PEIBlogs.com: the definitive Prince Edward Island blogroll since 2004.: Comedy-Satire

The Annekenstein Monster - Comedic performer Rob "Annekenstein" MacDonald comments on just about everything. ^pop
(Added: 11-Jul-2004 Hits: 758 Rating: 6.88 Votes: 26) Rate It

Canada Rocks The Birth Of Christ!!!
So, it looks like the Confederation Centre has given up on trying to produce/create original artistic work. This Xmas they'll be presenting Canada Rocks, But For The Christmas Dollar. Here's the article from The Guardian As I've said elsewhere, previously:...
Rob Interviews Himself About Sketch22
I noticed Rob hasn't been posting here very much lately, and so I thought I'd touch base with him and see what the scoop is. Here's that interview: RM: So, you haven't been posting much here lately. What's the scoop?...
My Soul Escapes Through My Pee-Hole
Where I work, the fixtures in the bathrooms have automated sensors so that they flush by themselves when you move away from the toilets or urinals, and the faucets come on when you put your hands underneath the spout, etc....
So, I watched "King of Kong - Fistful of Quarters"...
I hadn't heard much about this documentary, other than it being a doc about a couple of guys who are good at playing Donkey Kong. Hearing that little bit about it, I went "meh" even though it was getting good...
Is Crying Just Laughing Slowed Down?
I may have already spoiled it. Below is a video of a baby laughing, but the sound is slowed down. I watched the first half of it, and couldn't help but laugh myself. Laughter is infectious, it seems, even at...

Glamor Girl Gone Bad - Funny blog from "Cool Girl".
(Added: 1-Dec-2004 Hits: 532 Rating: 8.80 Votes: 5) Rate It

White Trash watching White Trash
I will explain my white trashedness thus: I don't have cable.

Which is why I found myself watching this show called Moment of Truth on CTV last night (why, oh why, did I not watch Raisen in the Sun?)

Its a lie detector test. You take a bunch of lie detector questions live on television, in front of your friends and family, and if you tell the truth, you win money. But if you lie, you lose it all.

This chick gets up in the chair. She has gross platinum blond hair, even though she works in a hair salon.
Her police officer hubby of two years is watching in the wings. As are her two creepy, robot-like parents, and a couple of siblings.
She then commences to destroy her marriage, possibly her life, on national television by answering questions like: "Have you ever had sex with a man other than your husband"? truthfully.

The husband watched manfully, but he was creepy too.
They asked if she was in love with another man and she said "yes". Truth!
"Have you ever taken off your wedding ring in bars to pretend you aren't married?" Yes. Truth!
"Were you in love with another man on your wedding day?" Yes. Truth!

At this point, I was watching only due to the rubber-necker gene, which, as a white trash girl, I freely admit I possess.

The whole time, though, I kept thinking: "Why are you doing this, you little cow? Why are you doing this to your husband, you slut? To your family, you bitch?"

My husband was sleeping. Although I was horrified, I didn't wish to poke him awake lest he think all wives are like this.

My solution, that made me feel slightly better about the human race but is probably a lie, is this:
The husband of two years beats the crap out of her and she saw this as one way to get out of the marriage, cleanly, and finally, with $500,000 in her pocket.

Stupid Cow. She lost the last question which was: "Do you think you are a good person?"
She said "yes". The lie detector said "No."

Man, I need to get cable.
HGTV would come in handy when confronted with the human race.
The Kids
The kids are fine.

I can tell you, solemnly, there is no child in Canada who is treated with more love and over-protectiveness by his Daddy than Our Juno.

He was gotten because Mom saw a sign in the drugstore about a Yellow Lab who had 12 puppies, and would you like one?
So Mom mentioned it to Daddy, and Daddy said "NO!"

Then we went to view them, and Daddy saw Sweet Little Juno.
He took him home at 7 weeks, and installed him on the pillows above our heads in the bed, and from that moment on, loved him as a son.
And so he trimmed the little hairs around his little penis, and taught him hand commands, and adored him as a child. And took him as a nomad when we kicked them out of the house several times over.

Now, five years on, dad puts a heating pad on his bad leg and gives him theraputic massages and glucosamine and aspirin. And says things like: "Mind My Juno!" Because, sadly, poor Juno was run over twice by mistake and has a bad leg.

If you want to see true love, in its unadulterated form, I would advise you have a look at DNA Boy and Our Juno.

Then there is Buster.
Boo Boo. "The Baby" as we call him, because that's what he is. The Baby of the family.

He came to our house because of the death of the late, great, Clyde.
Clydie was the Best Dog in Canada. I can't talk about him much even now because I cry. Poor Clydie got murdered by a sand truck.
He was my soul-mate. I got him from the pound and he was a neurotic ball of nerves, an abused, spidery-legged, scaredy-catted, doberman-lab mix who was old but not house trained. I loved him on sight. Within two hours, he loved me too and trusted me completely. We had a non-verbal communication and he soothed my period cramps, by schooching his body up against my belly. We had a thing. It lasted but two years. And I let him get murdered by a sand truck. So we cannot speak of Clyde. But I know, when I die, My Clyde will be waiting for me in heaven.

Because Tessa was sad without Clydie, whom she loved, I felt I should get her another dog.

Hence: Boo Boo.
He was a fat, little, wiggling, Rottweiler/Lab mix. I got him so he could be Tessa's friend.
HAH!
She hates him. She did from the first moment she saw him.
When I first brought him home, I was single. DNA Boy had been kicked out with Juno and they were on some nomad adventure.
So of course I let the stupid fat wiggling little emotionally sensitive puppy think he was my husband.
He got to sleep in the bed. Beside me. On The Man's Side of the bed.
And I may have thrown the odd arm around him at night, and scratched his floppy baby ears, and maybe even rubbed his fat little tummy.
Ergo: he believed he was my husband.
I don't blame him for that. That's my fault.
But a warm puppy body is better than no body at all, right?

Now, he weighs 120 pounds.
He has somewhat come to terms with the very traumatic fact that he has been replaced in the bed by another man (and his dog), but he's not happy about it.
Although he kind of half likes DNA Boy, he does not love him, the way he loves his Mom.
He will subject DNA Boy to this kind of a funny sneer, with his lip curled up, as if to say:
"Hah! You think you're a better husband than me? I don't think so! You left her and I was THERE for her!"

But, when DNA Boy feeds him, he's very happy to accept it. And if there's a scratch to the belly involved, he will roll over and forget about the past..

He is still emotionally sensitive. He's not a bit keen on Juno, but they no longer fight.
He won't go outside. Especially not in the cold. He hates the cold. The doorstep is his best friend. He likes to sit on it and cry, after three point seven minutes of outsidedness. He's not a dog to run away or jump a fence.

Juno is allowed in the bed, but only when Dad is in the bed, but when Dad is at work, and its only Mum in the bed, then Boo Boo is in the bed and it's all: "Fuck Off Juno! Because I am Her Husband!"

The Baby often gets a burdock stuck on his bum, because I think he poops on a burdock bush, but is too mentally challenged to realize he's pooping on a burdock bush, again.
He does not like the feel of a burdock on his bum, and turns around in frantic circles, and crys loudly, and makes a general trauma of the moment.
But you can't pull the burdock off, because you would be touching his bum, and that is NOT RIGHT! Although he has never taken that course that kids take about bad touching.
He is a bit of a drama queen, but who can fault him for that?
He hates being separated from his Mommy.
He is slightly retarded, in the sense that he is four years old, yet still needs to be rocked by his mom.
I love him, but he's a freak. I know.

And there is Miss Tess.
She is the Master. The Mum of all the dogs in our family.
She was gotten at age three months, as a puppy, with Clydie, for The Boy, who thought she was cute. He wanted to name her "Tessa" which is far too girly for the lady we now call "The Missus".
She is a Border Collie/German Shephard Mix.
She is the most Regal, Queen-like dog in Canada.

I don't love her, so much as I respect her. And I do respect her.
Although I think she often looks at me with disdain.
In fact, I don't actually believe she likes me, not even a bit.

She loves DNA Boy, though, in a Regal-Like way. Not that she would ever show need, or anything, but she will allow him to cuddle her. She also likes Juno, who she got as a puppy, and trained for a short time. He is her boyfriend, in a weird kind of way.

She, true to her Border Collie nature, however, does not belong to me, or DNA Boy, or Juno, and certainly not to Buster.
She belongs to the land, which she has taken on as her own.
She has 1.5 acres, she knows every inch of it, and apparently she has made it her job to protect it..

Oddly, or perhaps not oddly, she does not protect anyone else's land, although we have no fence.
She knows where she belongs and thats admirable.
This year, she has killed a Racoon, a Muskrat, a Mink, and Gawd knows what else for the crime of trespassing on her land. Which is our 1.5 acres.

She does not kill people, however, or bite them, or menace them, and that's a good thing.

I have often told my husband if we sell this house, Our Tessa will have to go with it. Because she needs her territory.

He agrees.

But we know that we are with our kids to the end.
They annoy us to no end, they tie us down, they demand shit from us, they cost money, they are almost worse than having children because they don't grow up.

But we love them.
Who knows why? We just do.
No More Christmas
I realize Christmas for you crowd was three months ago.
But there is a good reason I am tardy in remininscing about this festive occassion.

You see, every year, beginning on or about November 1st, and lasting until approximately February 15th, I enter my annual suicidal depression.

It's genetic. And I have come to terms with it. I no longer fight it. I no longer deny it. I know how to treat it.

Anyhoo, this leads me to why this year, for the first time, I finally decided, once and for all, to refuse to celebrate Christmas.

This is far harder than it sounds. Not for me, mind you, but for others.

It is very easy for me to ignore it. In fact, it is a relief to ignore it.

No more do I have to pretend that I am happy and actually give a shit. No longer do I have to procrastinate about getting a Christmas tree until the last moment and then haul my sorry ass out of bed and pretend I am having FUN in the fucking woods freezing while I hack down some poor Charlie Brown spruce with a butcher knife because I don't have an axe (and that's a good thing, okay?).

And also, where are the Goddamned decorations that I threw in a closet last Christmas with the tree still attached?

This year I simply said: "I'm sorry. I don't celebrate that holiday".

And I didn't.

Well!

You'd think I had singly handedly abducted the Baby Jesus from his barn and forced him to do child labour in China.

"What do you mean you don't celebrate Christmas?" people would ask, in an offended sort of way.
"Have you joined some sort of new religion? Are you Jewish? Muslim?"

It was then I realized how incredibly difficult it must be to actually be Jewish, or Muslim, or Athiest, in this country.

Because the message of "Christmas" as the "Consumer Orgy Shoved Down Your Throat" deal is everywhere, pushed by virtually everyone. Shown 24 hours on television, shoved down your throat on every street, every radio station, and by every "Christian" person you know.

Once I opted out I was fine with it. More than fine. I was Happy, as far as a suicidally depressed person can be happy. Yet I couldn't help but think that other people felt sorry for me. Or believed I was insane (which I could be, I will admit). Do they feel sorry for Jewish, or Muslim people? I kind of think they do.

It certainly made people uncomfortable to have such a non-conformist non-Christmas celebrating person in their midst.

But mainly it seemed to hurt other people's feelings when I plainly and confidently told them I did not celebrate that holiday. (I might have added that I found Christmas hypocritical and nothing to do with good Christian values and more of a consumer fuck-fest, and if you didn't go to church or in any way celebrate God during the rest of the year, you might be a bit of a hypocrite, but that would just be my depression talking.) They seemed to think I was judging them.

Soon, I would hear things like: "Oh, we best not talk about Christmas! Glamour Girl doesn't believe in it."

To which I replied: "Hey, dudes, I certainly support YOUR support and belief and celebration of Christmas. It's just not something I celebrate. Don't sweat it. I'm not trying to ban it or anything."

Then, when there was a tray of cookies or some chocolates or a pot-luck dinner, or even a good movie on TV, I would of course eat the food and partake of the freebies and watch the movie. People would accusingly say: "Hey, you shouldn't have any of that! You don't I celebrate Christmas!"

I would reply: "No, I do not. But I am not averse to celebrating a free meal. And I LOVE chocolates. Isn't it yummy?"

Still, I could tell, they didn't know how to relate to me. And were completely uncomfortable with a non-Christmas celebrator.

The only real hurdle that counted, of course, was my family. Which consists of my husband, and my son.

Now, my husband loves a good turkey dinner (cooked by a wife, as opposed to himself, of course). My husband also loves a tree (put up and decorated by a wife, not himself, of course) and the smells of Christmas baking (baked by a wife, not himself, mind).

So when he raised a few, very mild, objections, I simply said: "Well, you can celebrate Christmas, go get the tree, put it up, decorate it, buy all the presents, make the dinner, and do the baking. I'll certainly open gifts and eat the dinner, if that's what you want."

That sort of shut him up.

My son is young enough to at least not want to try to admit to the world that his mother is crazy and non-conformist and refuses to celebrate Christmas.
But he also knows his ridiculous mum, and he figured "Ah, what the hell!"
Plus, he's in love and he has four fathers and his Christmas did not depend on me.

I simply told them the truth. As if they didn't already know the basic make-up of this person that they love, either by choice or by birth. And they got on board, in a good way.

Since it wasn't entirely fair to take away a Statutory Holiday from the husband and the son, we made a compromise. We would play poker on Christmas Eve - and I would cook my son's favorite meal (which is NOT turkey). On Christmas Day we would have lasagna and watch movies. No presents were allowed (although if someone wanted to buy me presents, I would accept them, which I did. Hey, I like presents as much as the next guy, okay?)

It was a nice two days. But it was just another nice two days in the year.
And it was liberating.
One Good Year
I have been a bona-fide, perfectly legal wife for one year and three days.

Friday was the anniversary of our elopement.

Funnily, we both find ourselves happily surprised at how easy it was.

The year, that is. The elopement? Another story.

When people congratulated me, I snorted and said: "Believe me, we've had far tougher years."

And we did, have far tougher years. Five of them, in fact.
Well, three month increments, I believe they were. With much gnashing of teeth and dumping of belongings in garbage bags and breaking up of the three-dog family with no visiting rights and threats of legal action and engagement ring hide and seek and long letters of recrimination and despair and telephone answer refusals and the like, followed by incredibly hot and steamy make-up sex and three weeks of bliss before it all started over again.

Nope, the last year has been a piece of cake.

There was only one little trauma which involved a night at the Holiday Island Motor Lodge. $59 a night special.

Can I tell you about the Holiday Island Motor Lodge?
Let's just say you will feel incredible, awful guilt, that you have actually left your husband for no reason whatsoever except stubborness and stupidity, because he looked at you the wrong way or something, and maybe said something harsh, but had to be punished, so you got out of the car in the middle of a rainstorm and started walking, and he, being stubborn, let you walk, and you, being also stubborn, kept walking, and now he has no idea where you are, because you won't take his calls, and then you're afraid he won't forgive you.
Plus, the power is out at home and the water doesn't work you find out later that he has to walk to the brook to get water for the dogs to drink - out of watering cans. Those are the dogs that you have left him to look after because you have left him in a fit of pique and won't take his calls. And as far as he knows you could be DEAD - and that would hurt his feelings - and will he ever forgive you?

Also, the soap (possibly the towels?) at the Holiday Island Motor Lodge will give you a skin rash.

And then when you do come back feeling like the Prodigal Wife or something, he won't talk to you AT ALL. . . for about five minutes. Then you make him laugh and he says: "Don't make me laugh now!" and he makes you laugh and you realize there is not one other person in the world who knows you and loves you like this person does. . .

However, the lesson is: you do NOT leave your husband! Ever! Unless he hits you. (My mother in law gave me that incredibly reasonable bit of advice when I finally showed up at her doorstep in tears because I wanted to go home but couldn't find my husband and she helped me scope him out and then said:
"What did he do to you? Nothing? You did it to him? (pause) Oh, honey, these things happen. We'll just keep it in the family and tell no one! Now let's go get him back!"

Other than that it was a lovely year.

But scary, at the same time.

Scary because, I don't do intimacy well - - at all. It freaks me out for some reason that only 10 years on a therapist's couch could figure out and who has the time for that? There's something about being "dependent" or "needing" someone else that has always made me feel weak. Maybe I should have been breast fed. Maybe my mother loved my sister more than me. Maybe, probably, I have emotional issues. Who knows?

What I have learned is something else though: unconditional love.
When you're loved unconditionally - for the person you actually ARE - you learn to love back. Unconditionally.

Which means with NO CONDITIONS.
That is a hard lesson to learn. Unconditional love means, no expectations, no demands. No requirement to have dinner on the table at 5. No need for clean carpets and pristine toilets.
Just love. Of the other person's soul.
I'm not that good at that. My husband is. Strangely, though, he seems only like that with me. Other people? Pffffffft.

I have learned several other things during the past year of marriage.

The most important thing is that I do love my husband, in spite of myself. I can't help but love him. Believe me, I've tried not to love him. Drama Queen that I am, I have done google searches on "What it Means When your Man Does Such and Such and Why You Should Be Outraged!"

Generally, it worked for a time, but I always miss him because he is my friend.

Alas, he is my best friend. My partner in crime, my sweetie. There is no other person I would rather be with. This is because he totally gets me. He makes me feel okay. He makes me laugh at least once a day - but I would say an average of 17 times per day.

The second thing is, he loves me. To quote Sally Field: he "really really does". So when I fall into a fit of hysterical tears, for some ridiculous reason, or maybe not so ridiculous reason, he just says: "'honey, tell me. Whatever it is, you can tell me! I'm your 'usband!!"

Or his other comforting ministration: "'Oney, what have you done? Tell me, what have you done? It's Okay."

And I believe him. I believe he will love me no matter what. When he says: what have you done?" I could, theoretically, say: "Well, dear, I've just robbed a bank." Or: "Um, I've just spent the mortgage on the VLT Machines". He wouldn't be thrilled. But he would love me, and I know that. And there is amazing comfort in that feeling.

But mainly, I just like being with him. I like to rub his head to put him to sleep. I like his little boyishness. I like how when I get a new obsession, like sculpture or art, he's right there with me, making me easels and purchasing the best Canadian Tire sculpture tools available. And then laughing about it three months later when we're admiring our unfinished beach wood sculpture.
I like cooking a chicken dinner and having him clucking about what a good chicken dinner that was. I like how he makes fun of me for being a horrible housewife and, on the Saturday he is not working, he looks at the clock at 4 p.m. (one hour before he normally gets off work) and tells the dogs: "It's time for mummy to get the vaccuum out and sit it in the living room so daddy will think she's been doing housework when he gets home."

I guess I just love him.

Who knew?

P.S. I would write more. But it's time to run the vaccuum over the carpet. He'll be home soon.
A Right Old Rant
Yes I am too old to be feeling pangs of teenage jealousy and hatred and a desire to scratch rival eyes out.

But what the HELL is wrong with that woman?

I am speaking, of course, of the ex-fiance.
Otherwise known as The Proper Cow.

So The Proper Cow was once engaged to be married to my own beloved husband.

This was 20 years ago, or thereabouts.

I don't care that at that time, they backpacked together throughout EUROPE for Gawd's sake!
Everyone knows I hate backpacking, or hiking, or even walking for that matter. And don't even get me started on sleeping in tents or anywhere other than a bed with sheets less than 500 thread count.

Anyway, the point is, they broke up. Many years ago.

So after they broke up they became, allegedly, "best friends".
Which I have no problem with. None. I swear. Believe me, this man of mine needs as many women in his life as possible because, at heart, he is really a five year old boy and the more mothers he has the better, is what I say.

So when he and I began dating, oh, nigh on six years ago now, she was in his life as his "best friend" or something equivalent. Or so he thought.

HA!

Enter me, the Love of His Life, or as he calls me "Her Indoors" (silent H on the Her).

So I was game to be her friend. Except she hated me on sight. Despised me.

Here are some of the things she did:

1. Phone my house looking for my boyfriend and leave a message on MY answering machine saying "HI DNA Boy! Its me Proper Cow! I'm having a party at my house RIGHT NOW and Can You come Over?"

2. Waiting in our Halifax hotel room for us to show up because he had STUPIDLY used her as a travel agent to book a cheap room. They being offended when I told him that I would not enter our hotel room until he got his ex-girlfriend out of there!

3. Crying when he told her he was engaged to me and saying "It's a terrible thing".

4. Visiting his fucking mother.

5. Visiting him during our many break-ups.

6. Phoning him constantly to try to get him to go out to play. Alone.

7. More. Much much more.

Anyway, it all came to a head when I told my stupid five year old boy that this woman was not actually his friend, but perhaps had a bit more going on.

When I pointed out that a true friend would wish her friend happiness, and stop trying to break up a relationship, and then gave him a little lesson regarding boundaries, and used a blackboard with easy to understand symbols, he realized what I was talking about and decided it was beneficial, for his sex life if nothing else, to cut her out of his life.

So he did.

The only time we ever see her now is Old Home Week. Because she comes home.

So it was no surprise that as I walked with my husband, holding hands, towards the Old Home Week entrance this week, three minutes after parking our car, a woman came up behind him and grabbed his ass.

We turned around. It was The Proper Cow.

She proceeded to look deeply into my husband's eyes and rattle on at length about all kinds of shit - everything except the fact that he was standing there, holding the hand of his BRAND NEW WIFE, and she had not seen him since his BRAND NEW MARRIAGE, and not only that, but she avoided any and all eye contact with said wife and basically cut her out of the equation.

Finally she left and I said to my husband: "Did she congratulate you on getting married?"

"No," he said. "Maybe she doesn't know"?

"Snort". I snorted. With an eye roll to add emphasis.

Later, she approached my husband again.
I just happened to be sitting beside him with my arm around him, but in her world, that was apparently invisible.

So she rattled on again and, God Love Him, he said: "Hey, did you know we got married?"

"Oh, yeah, Jeff told me," she mumbled. Uncomfortably.

That was all. No eye contact. No congratulations. No "hope you are happy". No nothing. Just move the converstation along.

"So how's your dog?" she asked.

"OUR dogs are fine." he said.

I tell you people, I believe I showed unbelievable restraint at not taking her eyes out.

Because I could take her. I swear I could.
And my husband agreed. Although he advised me not to.
In fact, he took me home to avoid such a scene.

Sketch-22 Blog - Sketch-22 is a PEI improv comedy troupe.
(Added: 16-May-2005 Hits: 390 Rating: 0 Votes: 0) Rate It

Trans Am?
Hey, remember that blog post last spring about looking for a Trans Am? We're still looking. If anyone has a lead on this, please let us know. Again, we'd prefer a mid-late 70s Firebird, black with a phoenix on the...
Season 5's first video shoot a wrap
With our first video in the can, it feels like Season 5 is officially underway. This photo was taken on March 25 at about 7:30 p.m. near Covehead Harbour. Despite the fact that we were on the north shore in...
Sketch-22 Season 5: Assignment: Miami Beach
Here we go again! Sketch-22 Season 5 is officially underway. Several writers' meetings have been held and I am happy to report the material is as strange, shocking and outrageous as ever. But is it funny? Well, we never really...
Rusty & Jerome pt.2
Jerome (Masenfer) Malone grew up on the streets. The streets of a middle class suburb outside of Fredricton. He began his directionless life of delinquency stealing apples and carrots from neighbours gardens. When he was old enough to ride a...
Rusty & Jerome
Rusty Higgins was a rapscallion from his early youth. Always getting into to trouble in his Neighbourhood in Bristol. When he was 13 he was finally caught by his parents making little bombs and promptly sent to reform camp which...

Truths and Half Truths - Author, playwright, actor, nationally-syndicated TV and radio commentator Nils Ling.
(Added: 9-Jul-2004 Hits: 566 Rating: 1.50 Votes: 2) Rate It

Tue., July 22nd, Justin Alfred Leonard Ling, May 2, 1923 - July 21, 2008
Justin Alfred Leonard Ling. age 85, won?t be shopping at Eaton?s tomorrow. As long as any of us can remember, that was Mom?s sly and gentle euphemism for the final curtain in life, and it seems fitting that we announce...
Sat., July 12th, This Is My Dad, In A Nutshell
Andrea and Barb, my sisters, were at the hospital visiting Dad. They'd just gotten the results back from a CAT scan and other tests: the cancer in his lungs was back full force, and now there's a growth or tumour...
Thu., July 10th, Dad, At The Last
A couple of weeks ago the whole family went to Winnipeg for my niece's wedding. It was a lovely event, held under a rainbow Pride Flag at her parents' cottage on Lake Winnipeg. At one point, I broke away from...

You Are Now At The Centre Of The Known Universe - A thoroughly fabulous peek inside the glamorous world of LCM, Centre of the Known Universe, featuring my identical twin 39 year-old mother, Mumsey - and our talented troupe of escaped criminals now rehabilitated into mimes, all helpfully named Marcel.
(Added: 28-Aug-2004 Hits: 454 Rating: 0 Votes: 0) Rate It

I'm Sure It's Lovely, Dear

Darlings,

A friend e-mailed me this aft with all manner of news. Well, actually it was mostly a stream of filth and baseless accusations, interspersed with moans of how hard it is to paint a few crummy rooms. I smiled lovingly and responded thusly…

Upon Hearing Of A Dear Friend’s Redecorating, by LCM

There once was a lady who painted

Though her tastes were more or less tainted

She slapped it all on

Then drank until dawn

An elegant story, now ain’t it?”

Smiling Lovingly, As I’m So Often Found Doing

LCM
Let's See If This Still Works...

Hello, darlings – just testing to see if could still post a blog entry from my Outlook.

Patting Wig, Looking Fabulous

LCM
Comebacks
Dear Princess Lira,

Thank you, sweetie, for you welcome back message. It's heartening to know that not everyone has forgotten about me. (smiling bravely through the tears) Come have a cocktail with me, darling - I feel a poem coming on...

On My Preference For The Sea, by LCM

Yes, I've been both there and here
Seen the usual and the queer
But nothing dares compare to this
Here in our unfetered bliss
I say to all, my friends and foe
If you ask, I'll tell you "Go"
I've held the world in both my hands
In the ports of stranger lands

I've spent my time with witty men
But In the end, I pity them
For at the docks, you'll find me beamin'
In the company of seamen

Tossing Head Back And Laughing In That Good Way I Have
LCM
Words And Such
Melanie, darling!

How fabulous of you to drop by and compliment me on my vividness. As a resident of Texas, you surely know the how-you-say of the English language. (patting wig, passing Melanie a cocktail) So anyhoo, sweetie, I think I should write a poem about words. I mean, they're a fabulous tool for any modern gadabout, along with the icy smile and withering glare. Let's see what I can come up with...

The Slower Wit, by LCM

I often say, I will admit
My words see me in deficit
When bright young things as you, my dear
Wearing such and so, come near
"Oh how pretty!" I'll profess
Gazing at your latest dress
"It couldn't be just off the racks"
"I've been to Macy's and to Sax"
"You've been sewing, true it rings"
"Who knew machines could do such things?"
But when you saunter off, impressed
I tell the others "What a mess."
"The salesman was an evil jester"
"To put a cow in polyester."

Patting Wig, Looking Fabulous
LCM
Are You Slanky, Darling?
Sweeties,

I recently wrote a poem for my slanky friend Cindy and then forgot to include a proper definition for the word.

Slanky means slinky. Except only in the extreme past tense. It's the sort of word you might use if you were to be standing next to the pyramids - or the Acropolis - or even Cher. It's a tremendously fabulous word, and I encourage you all to use it with wild, yet elegant abandon.

Helping The English Language Be More Relevant To Today's Caustic Bitch
LCM

PEIBlogs.com: the definitive Prince Edward Island blogroll since 2004.: Comedy-Satire

Links:

The Annekenstein Monster - Comedic performer Rob "Annekenstein" MacDonald comments on just about everything. ^pop
(Added: 11-Jul-2004 Hits: 758 Rating: 6.88 Votes: 26) Rate It

Glamor Girl Gone Bad - Funny blog from "Cool Girl".
(Added: 1-Dec-2004 Hits: 532 Rating: 8.80 Votes: 5) Rate It

Sketch-22 Blog - Sketch-22 is a PEI improv comedy troupe.
(Added: 16-May-2005 Hits: 390 Rating: 0 Votes: 0) Rate It

Truths and Half Truths - Author, playwright, actor, nationally-syndicated TV and radio commentator Nils Ling.
(Added: 9-Jul-2004 Hits: 566 Rating: 1.50 Votes: 2) Rate It

Search, Recommend

Weather, Tides, Travel

PEI Gov't IslandCam

Blogstream of selected recently-updated blogs:

News

Photo of the day from Eastern Kings

PEIBlogs.com: the definitive Prince Edward Island blogroll since 2004.: Comedy-Satire

Links:

The Annekenstein Monster - Comedic performer Rob "Annekenstein" MacDonald comments on just about everything. pop (Added: 11-Jul-2004 Hits: 758 Rating: 6.88 Votes: 26) Rate It

Glamor Girl Gone Bad - Funny blog from "Cool Girl". (Added: 1-Dec-2004 Hits: 532 Rating: 8.80 Votes: 5) Rate It

Sketch-22 Blog - Sketch-22 is a PEI improv comedy troupe. (Added: 16-May-2005 Hits: 390 Rating: 0 Votes: 0) Rate It

Truths and Half Truths - Author, playwright, actor, nationally-syndicated TV and radio commentator Nils Ling. (Added: 9-Jul-2004 Hits: 566 Rating: 1.50 Votes: 2) Rate It

Search, Recommend

Weather, Tides, Travel

PEI Gov't IslandCam

Blogstream of selected recently-updated blogs:

News

Photo of the day from Eastern Kings

The Annekenstein Monster - Comedic performer Rob "Annekenstein" MacDonald comments on just about everything. ^pop
(Added: 11-Jul-2004 Hits: 758 Rating: 6.88 Votes: 26) Rate It

Glamor Girl Gone Bad - Funny blog from "Cool Girl".
(Added: 1-Dec-2004 Hits: 532 Rating: 8.80 Votes: 5) Rate It

Sketch-22 Blog - Sketch-22 is a PEI improv comedy troupe.
(Added: 16-May-2005 Hits: 390 Rating: 0 Votes: 0) Rate It

Truths and Half Truths - Author, playwright, actor, nationally-syndicated TV and radio commentator Nils Ling.
(Added: 9-Jul-2004 Hits: 566 Rating: 1.50 Votes: 2) Rate It