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.

wow! a post! it's true!

i almost couldn't remember how to do this!

here's my explanation.

ie, "where the hell have i been," "why the hell haven't i been here," "who the hell do i think i am not being here?"

otherwise known as "the answers to dapoppins's questions"

well, first, there was that whole saving children from the inferno thing. i was a real hero that day.

then, of course, i was at a world peace conference. they listened to *none* of my ideas. particularly iran. they just would not listen to a thing i said. i said 'stop being so jerky.' they said 'no! die american!'*

after that it was off to convince a certain someone NOT to take their own life. mostly because i didn't want to listen to their songs over and over again until the end of time. well, we all know how *that* went.

after two items of failure, it was time to lay low for awhile. i needed to properly grieve.

i'll always remember farrah.

i'll always remember ed.

i'll always remember billy.

and the rest.

okay okay okay maybe i haven't been doing any of those things. if you want the 'where the hell have i been', here are the highlights:

first i had a book to do pictures for because i was presenting it to some children, allegedly, and then it turned out that only six children showed up.
i'm not bitter about that because HEY! all the pictures are done! but then i had to print the friggers off, after some photoshop touch-ups. i did an AMAZING job of getting two really polished packages off to agents. i know it was good because i got VERY FAST responses from them. both were no. one, though, said 'your ideas made me smile'.

yay. i am glad you smiled. hey, you know, your smiling would mean more if you could PUBLISH ME!!!

then there was a competition, the link of which will be available after i post this. results aren't available on that until next week. LONGEST.FORTNIGHT.EVER.

and in the meantime i have been playing softball because i missed it sooo sooo much. BUT the captain of the team went on holiday, so i said i would look after the team for him. this is something i don't think i ever want to do again without also having a very painful bikini wax just for fun.

sharkgirl was one of the main characters in a production of "the golden age of chocolate," otherwise known as 'the school's version of "charlie and the chocolate factory." i was EXTREMELY proud of her. i almost didn't notice my butt hurting from sitting in that chair for two hours. almost.

AAAANNND just because i thought somehow i had time for it, i agreed to do a website for my brother. i can do websites. static, functional websites. the one HE wants is done in FLASH!

ohmybobi'mtired!

and what did all that get me? a whole lot of pain.

just look at all my pains :



in particular, i have huge pains in my buttock-al region...



both sides! this cheek is mainly doin' sympathy pains. that i can do without!



so THAT pretty much sums up what's been going on.

oh wait...i also watched the whole first and second seasons of dexter, to prepare for the third. which i'm now two episodes behind on, because of aforementioned "stuff".

NEXT : i am soooo giving mother nature a good kick up the backside. she has been...what's the word? a beotch.

* = this is of course untrue. just had to make sure it was clear.

heavy objects i have been trapped beneath recently

a reader writes...

"Dearest Zerilda,

ZERILDA!!! i demand to know where you've been! i am sitting here, waiting for you to post. do you not respect *my* time? some blogger YOU are. i RUE the day i discovered your blog. furthermore, the drivel you left me with before you left was completely unacceptable, of a standard unbefitting a neanderthal, and made me a little bit sick on my happy meal. you'd better kick it up a notch, or i am going to stop sitting here.

TAKE NOTE!

Sincerely,
Your loving mother"

i was truly moved by this heart-warming letter, and my only response is, yes, you are right. you *were* sick on your happy meal. that is unfortunate.

but wait! it's not that i don't completely care about all that time spent waiting for me to entertain and/or amuse and/or distract you from your toenail-clipping duties.

it's TRULY that i have been gallivanting. to belfast!

i have had children on my own. for 10 days. which left me realizing how much i do not want them on my own for a longer period of time...

i have been creating! a presentation for a book reading! and that is where our tale of what-the-he11 have you been starts.

you see,

...there i was there i was there i was...

performing.

[and discovering i am NOT the only :
-female
-american
-comedienne
in cardiff!

oh yes...two of us were on the same lineup!]

when my good friend says "you should read your stories at the library..."

and i thought what a heck of an idea! but i'm at borders all the time. i would like to do it there. they OWE me for all those books i bought.

OWE

so i asked them. they were very happy to let me come in. i'll be doing it towards the end of may.

BUT... BUT... BUT...

as much as i like spinning stories for the kiddies...

illustrate...

...i do not

SO! plan b = clay rats! [story the first is about pie rats!]

i absolutely love love love super soft clay

who knew?

it turns out i am not clay-ically inclined, either:



on their own, they suck a bit! boy howdy is it awful!

but as a large GROUP OF RODENTS....



not too dang bad! it's the psychology of vision or something. your eye doesn't pay attention to crappy detail, it looks at the beautiful forest for the trees! unless you think they're still crappy, then that theory really falls flat...

and now, for the pies! i only have a few made. i need to make many Many MANY more -- this week!



i need
- berry pies
- banana pies
- cow pies

thank BOB for play-doh moulds!

and on hand for seasoning...

a gift from mielikki!!!

and these chicks are just waiting to see what i'm going to do with them...

...oh and i forgot to mention, i joined a softball team (home runs! pitching!)

...and got suckered intostarted taking tennis lessons after signing daughter up for same. (wow. after 20 years of not doing it, i really sucked the first session!)

i will endeavor to try-to-try to keep poking my nose into blogland in the meantime... i miss it...
so much...

oh AND my boy is four tomorrow. thank BOB he's a boy. the girl would be *put* *out* knowing i hadn't really prepared for it. . .

who needs sleep, really...?

stay tuned...you will see my gorgeous new shoes. I KNOW!!!

I KNOW!!!

Qrazy Question QXday

OH! The delay again!

Project Supertastic

is keeping me busy.

It is just plain magnificent.

But that is another post...

Anyway - let's get on with meeting the third inductee to OH! MY! BOB!



We were chillin' on the piano wondering : whoever would join us next?

The doorbell went. It was the elegant Fireblossom. She is also found here.



So we had a little chat!

Zerilda: sorry - i just got in, had to get myself a cuppa, and then get a biscuit
(sorry, i mean cookie)

Fireblossom: oh, I speak fluent UK

Zerilda: nice! so i could say car park to you!

car park!

and i could say mobile!
and i could say 'i'm going on holiday!'

Fireblossom: you could add a "u" to humour and glamour

Zerilda: and colour!

Fireblossom: I took the liberty of removing all the vowels from Bruce Willis's brain this afternoon

Zerilda: is he much different now?

Fireblossom: he sounds serbian

Zerilda: aaah. so no.

Fireblossom: not a whit

Zerilda: he's newly married, isn't he?

Fireblossom: i understand he married jacko in a private ceremony aboard a garbage scow under the Portuguese flag

Zerilda: wow. i didn't think either of them were Portuguese!

Fireblossom: well, they weren't BORN Portuguese. they had a devil baby which jacko promptly dangled overboard



Zerilda: well, you do one baby...gotta do them all...

Fireblossom: haha

Zerilda: okay so you have three wishes. you can't ask for more wishes. what are your wishes?

Fireblossom: For the television program "Cash Cab" to not merely drop off losing contestants, but to publicly vaporize them on the streets of new York

Zerilda: oh yeah that's a good one

Fireblossom: 2. For Oprah Winfrey to become fully aquatic...

Zerilda: as opposed to partially, which she is now...



Fireblossom: for all football leagues everywhere to be disbanded and replaced by open air shopping bazaars where men are baited and made to do tricks while being led on leashes

Zerilda: aaaaaah. now this i have to take issue with, only because i discovered that football serves the purpose of keeping men out of places i want to go for portions of a weekend.
and rugby.

Fireblossom: well this is true, but involuntary space travel accomplishes the same thing

Zerilda: what about just the jerks?

Fireblossom: yes. jerks only to the blue platform on level 5, please



Zerilda: YEAH! it's just that my son, i have grown accustomed to him... y'know

Fireblossom: oh, sons are exempt. I have one as well

Zerilda: fantastic. are you able to sing a particular song that would maim a person?

Fireblossom: ha! yes....

"Everything is Beautiful"

I can sing it either in trailer trash version or oriental pidgin
it includes the lyric 'there is none so blind as he who cannot see"
soo wise, i think

Zerilda: are you...really....also... trailer trash? or do you just sing it

Fireblossom: goodness no I am elegant. if i hear ee haw misic I begin to sag, and if there is yodeling in it, I become desperately ill within seconds

Zerilda: hee haw - how many people has THAT damaged? why were none of those people punished?

Fireblossom: it's tragic. they all become Toby keith and terrorize their communities

Zerilda: welcome to hell, here's your hee haw dvd. if ever there was a group of people needing to be shipped to their own planet, eh?

Fireblossom: someplace where it is far too cold to possibly play steel guitar

Zerilda: what was the last ritual you performed?

Fireblossom: I turned katie Couric into an invertebrate as part of a solstice celebration!

Zerilda: that is AWETASTIC! was it hard to do?

Fireblossom: no, but she kept screeching. she can no longer do latin dances

Zerilda: what - you mean

katie couric no longer tangos?

Fireblossom: I blame that lady from the weakest link

Zerilda: Anne Robinson

Fireblossom: yes

Zerilda: yeah - i can't decide who i dislike more, her or simon cowell.

Fireblossom: when i was in London, i saw that she was still at large

Zerilda: OH IF THEY HAD KIDS. what would that be like? surely their kid would be the subject of a quest

Fireblossom: they would be lovely.

Everyone knows that stuff skips a generation

Zerilda: true! i didn't think of that

Fireblossom: ;-)

Zerilda: it would be the loveliest kid on the planet! you couldn't get within five feet without being blessed or something!




Fireblossom:

my toaster whispered it to me

Zerilda: oh - bill cosby is it?

Fireblossom: yes Bill Cosby's spirit

Zerilda: did you know that i bought Phylicia Rashad-os at the grocery store today? they are like honey nut cheerios, but not as honey-oriented

Fireblossom: that bitch - she does hang up calls here at all hours. she tells me how many pounds she has lost

Zerilda: okay here's a quick-fire round:
who

Fireblossom: Horton

Zerilda: where

Fireblossom: in the air

Zerilda: what

Fireblossom: a big green truck in the sky

Zerilda: when

Fireblossom: 4pm time for tea

Zerilda: why

Fireblossom: why not?

Zerilda: excellent. okay here's the clue (the board game) version :
who killed who in the where with the what

Fireblossom: oOOOOoo!!!...
Ben Affleck was killed
with a fast moving passenger locomotive
in the study
the killer was....
Calista Flockhart...
driven mad by her marriage to Harrison Ford

Zerilda: wow. who knew calista had human strength? did you get a picture of it?

Fireblossom: I made a rock-umentary of it

Zerilda: sweeeet. okay last q, then i have to go to bed. it's a big'un
your door is, right now, being beaten down by anti-poetry campaigners. you have to grab a makeshift weapon NOW. what object do you grab, or do you just rush into your safe room, hoping they fall into the trap you made earlier?

Fireblossom: that's easy
I start discussing menstruation with my gf and the attackers, all male, disperse in seconds flat

Zerilda: i have really thoroughly enjoyed this, and wish i could do it longer! but 7 am is going to kick my butt in all kinds of new, innovative ways, so i'm taking my reluctant leave now. thank you for this honour!

The letter of glittery love

Dear Teacher,

I hope you can read this. I have decided to correspond to you in the medium of glitter and glue, using ONLY the glitter that has fallen off in my house from the art project you send home each week. I hope you have as much fun *doing* the projects as I have *picking* the glitter up off my floor. EVERY. DAY. It's a party in and of itself.

Anyway, I wanted to thank you for teaching me the futility of sending a spare pair of clothes every day, as you requested. I have enjoyed carrying the bag of spares as well as my son, who's trousers are completely rain-soaked (I hope that's rain. ..). I'm sure he's much better off stewing in the wet trousers than running around, say, nude. I am developing an impressive set of muscles, and have cancelled my now-unnecessary gym membership. I know what I'm going to do with *that* extra £15/month.

I do have one request, though. Would it be possible to be made privy to the official after-school-club time? OR, could we possibly get said club an accurate time-keeping device? My own watch is set to three minutes ahead of GMT, but when I showed up at 5:50pm on Tuesday, I was informed that I'd be charged for arriving 3 minutes past 6:00. They said they were going by their mobile phone clock, which, BOB KNOWS is a reasonable thing to do, but I just think possibly it should be set correctly. I will be happy to pay the late fee if I ever arrive *actually* late, by an official measurement. I believe a good rule of thumb in this Kingdom is 'if the Queen considers it late, it's late.'

Thank you, and happy glitter-picking-up. I know *I* always enjoy it...

Yours in craft,

Zerilda, The Superfluous Blogger,

mother of

Monkeyboy, the Prolific Glitter-er.