victims of wood floor violence

once upon a time, there lived a kindly, sporty couple, deep in the woods. Gertrude (a world famous gymnast) and Akebono Bodenturnen (a world famous sumo wrestler) were two highly successful athletes who trained in the peace of the forest.

one day, Gertrude took a sip of her performance-enhancing drink that absolutely everyone in the sport drinks (aka 'the lance armstrong rationale'), then turned to Akebono, and said "we should have a child, for who shall look after our crippled bodies when we turn 40 and are too old to compete in our respective sports?" Akebono nodded his approval - he'd always wanted to have a son to raise in the ways of sumo.

and so they had a son, Hans. Hans was a fine boy, but he was a normal boy. this disappointed his parents, both of whom wanted a sports star like they were, to carry on the family sporting line. but as time went on, it was obvious Hans was only interested in one thing: pretzels.

he made pretzels from dawn to dusk, until even his fingers were in knots. eventually, he had to go out to the not-so-nearby towns selling his pretzels, as the house had become full of them; his parents just couldn't eat them fast enough, and, living deep in the woods, they had no neighbours.

one day, when Hans had gone to the very-far-away-village to sell his pretzels, Gertrude and Akebono had visitors.

Randy and Roland Stermudge were very nice, very mild-mannered wood-floor salesmen, as long as people bought the appropriate amount of wood flooring. on a routine sales trip, Randy spotted the Bodenturnen's cottage from the road, and decided that, although it appeared that the cottage was made entirely of wood, possibly, a potential client lived inside.

Randy knocked on the door. Gertrude and Akebono both answered. Randy and Roland introduced themselves, and explained that they were the best providers of wood flooring this side of the Black Forest. Akebono just shook his head. Gertrude wasn't interested either. "We just bought wood flooring last month. We couldn't possibly have it redone yet. But would you like a pretzel?"

well, Randy and Roland hated failure, and they hated pretzels. so when Gertrude closed the door, they retrieved their axes from the truck, and began chopping the nearest tree. it wasn't long before the huge tree fell on the Bodenturnen's lovely cottage.

screams could be heard from inside, but this didn't stop Randy and Roland "shoulda bought our wood flooring!" they shouted as they moved to the next tree and started chopping. again, the next tree fell on the cottage, crushing everything inside it: the extra pretzels, the recently installed wood flooring, the home-gym, and both the Bodenturnens. as they drove away, Randy and Roland laughed maniacally; such is the style of psychotic wood-floor salesmen.

when Hans returned, he saw the demolished cottage and fell to his knees sobbing. when he finished, he looked around and spotted the Stermudge twins' business card on the ground. he felt his blood boil. he stormed around to the back of the cottage, where his special pretzel-baking kitchen stood unspoiled by the tree-felling, and baked up a batch of his best pretzels - with poison - and grabbed his best gun (for what great pretzel-maker doesn't have a gun?).

Hans vowed to avenge his parents death-by-wood-flooring-salesmen in the most gruesome way possible - by poisoning *and* shooting them.

so if you see Hans, be sure not to buy his pretzels, particularly if you are in the wood-flooring industry. it could be your last snack.

NB
people who have been killed by wood flooring (either directly or indirectly. mostly indirectly) :
mother theresa
john wayne
elvis (although this was most likely in conjunction with something else)
JFK (it's a known fact that the shooter was on a wooden floor)
FDR (the fumes from wood flooring almost certainly caused his polio)
sonny bono (the tree he ran into would have *become* wood flooring)

a little bit of poison

once upon a time, there was a young girl named belinda. belinda was fond of dancing, dressing in pink,  and visiting her sick granny. granny wasn't really sick, she just really wanted sympathy visitors, so she "worked it".

she was young, but not so young that it was inappropriate for her to have full, pouty lips. but she wished they were fuller, and poutier. not that she like to pout. she was quite upbeat! in fact, she aerobicised several times a week. this made her quite sweaty.

her sweating was so profuse, that her friends often found themselves drowning in belinda-juice.

sadly, she suffered from cervical dystonia AND vaginismus (both involve spasms of the relevant muscles) (some peoplepay good money for that).

and, when the moon was full, she blinked uncontrollably. a lot. so much so that on those days, her life was one long disco.

still, she had a good life and couldn't really complain. her mother baked cookies a lot, which made up for these inconveniences.

one day, she was headed to her granny's house, to cheer her up with some relaxing disco music. she decided to go through the dodgy medical section of the forest. on the way, she came across a man named bo. last name: tox.

he seemed neither friendly nor upbeat. and during the course of their conversation, he could only make comments that were botox related.

belinda : "hello"

bo: "great word. did you know botox is a good word too?"

belinda: "okay... well, i have to go now."

bo: "that's so good. botox can help you go."

belinda: "you're weird."

bo: "funny, i was just going to say that botox can help with weirdness. go to my website for more information on botox."

belinda; "no. good day."

and so belinda carried on to her granny's in a way that somewhat mirrors the way some people with red hoods might make their way to their granny's house, only to be hassled by wolves. she hurried, as granny got quite anxious if her musical entertainment was delayed.

when she arrived, she was horrified to discover bo had already gotten there.

"granny! what big lips you have!"

"the better to kiss you with, my dear!"

"granny! what a big forehead you have!"

"the better to look happily surprised at you, my dear!"

bo was about to give granny one final injection in her cheeks when the door smashed open. it was none other than esther, the botox bounty hunter.

"oh no you don't, bo! your days of putting

BOTULINUM TOXIN

in people are over!"

"but esther! this woman could look younger for a short time until she starts to look horribly disfigured like a freak!"

"NO, BO! step away from the granny or i will poke you with my big sword, smack you with my giant hot dog  and kick you with my peg-leg."

but bo did not back away. he inched the needle towards granny.

esther hopped across the room, landing a wooden kick to bo's head. then she smacked him repeatedly with her giant hot dog until he was unconscious, which took awhile, but amused the heck out of belinda, who just sat and watched.

belinda hauled bo out into her 4x4, waiting outside.

"wow. that was really weird," said belinda. it was about to get weirder. there was a knock at the door. it was syco and the hoff!

"hello, we just wanted to add some comments about botox into this story," said the hoff. syco just scowled.

[not many people know this, but simon cowell invented the scowl, which is why it is called 'scowl'. absolute truth. in the 1940s, they used it as a defense against some of the wimpier germans. (according to official records, syco was born in 1959, but that is just a cover up.)]

"hm. yes. well, i know that botox can affect the ability to read emotion*, so i'm going to just to ask you  to leave before i throw my granny at you."

so the hoff and syco left to find other people to bask in their puffy-faced glory, and belinda and her granny had a nice afternoon filled with cookies and disco music.

unfortunately, belinda's granny's botox injection didn't sit well with her, and she died violently in the middle of the night. now she haunts people in the dodgy medical section of the forest.

the moral of this story is: do NOT put ads in my comment space, or there will be mildly horrific stories the subject of the ad in this blog. you won't like it.

* = again, i'm ashamed to say, wikipedia.

and now they are four

there is a lot of excitement today. meet amber and sunshine:

they are really, REALLY excited.
why?
well, aren't you?

the furnish-johns are now four in number!

yay!

amber just couldn't keep from cheering when she heard the news today. she doesn't watch much tv, so she kind of found out while she was on a donut-run. the donuts are near the magazines, so in order to satisfy her fix, she had to see Hello! magazine.

she stopped in her tracks and shouted loudly "GOOOOOO ELTON! (and David)!"

sunshine heard the cheer from the ice cream aisle, and ran over to join the fun.

they are not only huge elton john fans, but huge baby fans, too.

when they were done cheering, a tear came to amber's eye. a little tear of happiness...at the thought of what a lucky boy little elijah would be.

two loving fathers to look after his well-being...

...play baseball with him...(at 70 years of age, elton will still be fit enough to play ball-related sports)

...take him fishing...(septuagenarians LOVE getting up early and sitting out in the cold)

...maybe teach him how to camp...(oh yeah - old people LOVE sleepin' on the ground...again, in the cold. LOVE IT!)

...and of course buy him ANY and EVERY thing his heart desires. (shopping is fantastic at any age)

yes, this baby boy was really lucky.

meanwhile, sunshine reminisced back to her own childhood. her father had taught her how to tie a really good knot. she couldn't imagine what a splendid knot david and elton would teach little elijah to tie.

sunshine's daddy also taught her how to change her oil. only the best oil would be changed at the furnish-john household.

then...sunshine and amber looked at each other suddenly, simultaneously having the same realisation: that kid's 16th birthday party would kick the hiney out of every birthday party in the history of over-the-top parties.

somehow, some way, they just *HAD* to find a way to be there. maybe amber would write that hit song. sunshine decided to take acting lessons and get on a reality tv show.

NO!!! they resolved right then, right there, that they would become the BEST cheerleaders on the planet.

right after they had those donuts.

.................................

later that night, sunshine and amber did some web-surfing, let's say for a homework project. yeah, that's it. what did they find?

according to WIKIPEDIA*...

china has 65,504,000 orphans...

africa has 34,294,000 parentless children...

and latin america and the caribbean have 8,166,000 kids of alternative family status...

so. many. orphans. all jealous of little elijah and his brother zachary.

(*)=up until 11pm at night, i hate the thought of anyone using wikipedia as a source. however. it is after 11pm, and i don't care now.

intermittent fast days, which can be quite slow

fasting. intermittently. that is my new thing. well, it is the new thing i do.

today i started week 3,  and this is what i'm sitting here thinking about:

and this:

and this:

i fast twice a week, once on sunday, once on wednesday. on those days, i keep to 500 calories. that's oatmeal for brunch, and a hearty soup for dinner. i could have a weight watcher's meal or something, but i'm always really disappointed with those. they keep being finished too quickly. somehow.

but not that it's the third week, thankfully, food only occupies my mind as i'm trying to get to sleep. not, like the first day, wherein i thought about food THE ENTIRE DAY.

i'm also starting to look forward to the fasting days.

on friday, i went to my friend's house for the night. we ate pizza. i might have had a fourth piece... while also drinking. but i can do that now, and it's okay! i still drop a pound-or-so a week, and i feel great!

by the time fast day arrives, i'm ready to lay off the food for awhile.

i have traded seven days of torture for two!

however, even though it is getting easier each time i fast, i noticed tonight that EVERYONE on tv was eating. seriously. i watched CSI, they went to a cafe. and ate.

i watched a movie with lovely daughter. there was a lot of eating. really? you're catching bad guys and you need a food scene? ugh.

simpsons...crime dramas...EVEN THE SPORTY THING had food in it - some guy in the crowd eating a burger. HEY CAMERA GUY - WATCH THE GAME!

and then there were the commercials. most of THOSE were for food.

but actually, it didn't bother me that much. i just...noticed it.

and although right now i'm thinking of all the food i CAN eat tomorrow morning...

actually...

i'll probably just eat this:

but, y'know, a BIG bowl!!!

snow makes children stupid

i, zerilda, am shocked.
i am also stunned.

here i am, in the admittedly cold kingdom of united, and was, days ago, made aware of the impending snow. i prepared as much as i thought i should: i got some new gloves. at no point did i prepare for the eventuality of not getting to work, or that my children would be temporarily denied education.

i DIDN'T EVEN BUY A SHOVEL!
so imagine my surprise when i got 4 official school texts (2 for each child!) informing me that school would be closed. they arrived before my consciousness did, which is to say, before my alarm.

i got a little worried.

you see, where i'm from, it SNOWS!!!!! look:

enough snow to make samuel l jackson refer to it with m-f bombs:

a BUTT-LOAD of snow:

yes. i used to live with THAT. THAT's what closes schools where I'M from. we are hardy in america.
see this guy?

he has places to be! a little snow doesn't get in his way! so i took my worried self over to the window to assess the horrors that had befallen us here in britain.

THIS IS WHAT CLOSES SCHOOLS IN BRITAIN:

are you KIDDING ME? 

i went downstairs to watch the news. this was similar to their report (without the arrows...!) :

OH MY BOB!!!

how ever will they get where they're going on those NON-SNOWY roads?

and so it was that my children got a day of sitting around the house, watching tv, playing on the wii, and generally NOT being further educated. they're never IN school!

if MY school had cancelled classes every time we got a tiny smattering of snow, no one in my state would have gotten an education! we'd have never gone to school! we'd all be serving "fries with that!"

i suppose i should cut this country some slack. i grew up where it snowed a lot. i know how to cope. i can competently drive in snow. but i avoid it here, because the locals can't negotiate mildly snowy roads. you only have to say the *word* snow and a car, somewhere in britain, shoots off past breakdown lane...

so i went to work. without taking a shovel to my car. i might have put on the gloves.


and after saying "REALLY?!" repeatedly whilst smacking my forehead, i was told that schools are closed because snow is a health and safety issue.

WHAT?!
SNOW?!

SNOW IS WATER!!! 

i had no idea i grew up in a death trap!!! i feel like i should sue mother nature. i could have been someone great! instead, i was hindered by the snow. snow made me less healthy and less safe. but i'm a survivor!

thank god someone figured out that snow is so deadly, so that the only impact it would have on my children is to inhibit their education. WHEW!

or are they really hiding something more sinister...

american myths exposed #412: all americans love guns

i, zerilda, am highly used to being made to answer for all of the things that happen in america that people outside america think are terrible, or at the very least, bizarre. however, most recently, i am surrounded by people who have kicked it up a notch. and i say to them:

what's more ridiculous - the thing you're questioning or the fact that you think all americans are exactly the same?

one thing i love about this country is that although i have repeatedly busted my eyeball sockets from rolling my eyes so much as a reaction to "all americans yadda yadda yadda" statements, i get free healthcare, so sign me up for more eye-socket surgery! and bring on that free post-op morphine...

eye-rolling statements resulting in said surgery:

all americans eat oversize cheeseburgers

all americans love country music

that's gonna be covered in a different post...

all americans love their guns

it's really surprising to me that i have been lumped into such a category, considering i never even saw a real gun until i was 14. that's amazing, considering:

i'm from a large, rectangle-shaped, western state...

my father was in the military...

my mother's second husband was a policeman...

but no, what my coworkers expect is that i am a little disgruntled because i got my guns taken (read: pried) off me when i landed at heathrow. they eventually find out i'm from a big, rectangle, western state, which convinces them that they should lock up their pets in the fall because i'm a'comin' with ma' shotgun and i gots to get some dinner!

now, whereas it is true that i descend from a long line of highly competent gun-toters, most notably my mother,

who could hit the back side of a prairie dog (not a pet) from a distance of 90 paces,

i personally suffered great shame and disgrace as a non-gun-toting future liberal.

additionally, i didn't realize until i was 20 that our dog was named after a specific type of gun. i just thought 'ruger' was my mother not knowing how to spell 'roger', but it was okay because the dog didn't really look like a 'roger'.

a further irony of our household was that although my parents are both extremely good shots, we were not even allowed to say the word "gun" in our house. we could call the dog, "c'm'ere, ruger," but we could not say "gosh, i'd really like a ruger for christmas," without being sent to our rooms for a week. we couldn't even say "i'll be a son of a gun," as a surprised reaction to something.

i am probably the only person from my home state who has never been on a hunting trip. i always got slightly nervous during "school hunting break" because i thought that if the school *knew* i hadn't gone hunting like everyone else, i'd get detention.

when i arrived in the uk, i first went to belfast. if i, like "all the gun-toting-americans," would have been exposed to even the smallest gun, i wouldn't have consistently soiled my pants when i walked through the streets, which, at the time, were patrolled with land-rovers pointing guns from the top.

but hey ho, i'm american, so of course, in the eyes of most people around me, i support the NRA, and i must also only like a movie if there is a relatively large death count in it.

but the truth is, i did not personally touch a gun until i was 42... in WALES.

a quick google search gives me the statistic that 47% of american households have guns. wow. less than half. admittedly a lot, however, in order for "all americans to love guns," shouldn't all americans *own* guns? they don't all own guns, ergo, they don't all love them. in FACT, quite a lot of us are opponents of gun ownership.

but please! by all means! keep trying to convince me how we americans are stupid for not properly regulating guns. it's so much fun for me to listen to. and in the back of my head, i will simultaneously continue to ponder the ridiculousness of a country the size of britain trying to instruct a country the size of america in oh, anything. what works for a country of 243,600 km² will surely work for a country of 9,827,000 km², right?!

AND ANOTHER THING - mr. tarantino, aka "i'm a massive jerk who doesn't realize that i'm making so much insanely ridiculous money that i should be fricking patient during an interview with a guy representing the common movie patron...viewers who are *paying* (lots) to get into my movies," if you think you have a hard life because said interviewer wants to ask you a seemingly tedious question about your violent, gun-containing movie in the wake of a massive gun-related tragedy, please s/t/f/u, some of us have to answer for it every/stupid/day. i must go rest my eyes now, before another day of extensive eye-rolling begins.