April Fools Day Origin

mayet666 01 April, 2008 23:58 Satire Permalink Trackbacks (0)
We all know April Fools day exists and some of us even look forward to it with great relish each year, often spending quite some time and resources with their annual "prank.

But where does April Fools Day come from

What is it’s meaning and why do we have it.







Well that’s the problem. There is no documented history of where it began and April Fools day was celebrated on April 1 by many different culture of the world at that time.





Nice Movie.. Not



One theory which actually turned out to be an April Fools Joke in itself way back in 1983, stated it began with Constantine, who got rather pissed with one of his court Jesters and offered him thecrown and to run th Kingdom for a day and it therefore developed into an annual event where "tomfoolery" was the order of the day.


The trouble with this joke and the theory behind it, is that evidence shows April Fools Day was celebrated in some form way earlier in history than this. This joke was actually taken and derived from the December Saturnalia festival, where slaves and subjects were permitted to rule over their masters for a day.



Saturnalia

Many think it had to do with the change of seasons and the beginning of Spring. Many cultures including Hindu cultures celebrate a time of such "tomfoolery" around that date.




So there you have it.. No One Knows.. and Who cares.. its fun.. its a day to smile and to laugh at yourself... Its the day to let out your inner child..








Top Ten April Fools Jokes Of All Time

  In 1957 the respected BBC news show Panorama announced that thanks to a very mild winter and the virtual elimination of the dreaded spaghetti weevil, Swiss farmers were enjoying a bumper spaghetti crop. It accompanied this announcement with footage of Swiss peasants pulling strands of spaghetti down from trees. Huge numbers of viewers were taken in. Many called the BBC wanting to know how they could grow their own spaghetti tree. To this the BBC diplomatically replied that they should "place a sprig of spaghetti in a tin of tomato sauce and hope for the best."

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2: Sidd Finch
  In its April 1985 edition, Sports Illustrated published a story about a new rookie pitcher who planned to play for the Mets. His name was Sidd Finch, and he could reportedly throw a baseball at 168 mph with pinpoint accuracy. This was 65 mph faster than the previous record. Surprisingly, Sidd Finch had never even played the game before. Instead, he had mastered the "art of the pitch" in a Tibetan monastery under the guidance of the "great poet-saint Lama Milaraspa." Mets fans celebrated their teams’ amazing luck at having found such a gifted player, and Sports Illustrated was flooded with requests for more information. But in reality this legendary player only existed in the imagination of the author of the article, George Plimpton. 

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In 1962 there was only one tv channel in Sweden, and it broadcast in black and white. The station’s technical expert, Kjell Stensson, appeared on the news to announce that, thanks to a new technology, viewers could convert their existing sets to display color reception. All they had to do was pull a nylon stocking over their tv screen. Stensson proceeded to demonstrate the process. Thousands of people were taken in. Regular color broadcasts only commenced in Sweden on April 1, 1970.

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4: The Taco Liberty Bell
In 1996 the Taco Bell Corporation announced that it had bought the Liberty Bell and was renaming it the Taco Liberty Bell. Hundreds of outraged citizens called the National Historic Park in Philadelphia where the bell was housed to express their anger. Their nerves were only calmed when Taco Bell revealed, a few hours later, that it was all a practical joke. The best line of the day came when White House press secretary Mike McCurry was asked about the sale. Thinking on his feet, he responded that the Lincoln Memorial had also been sold. It would now be known as the Ford Lincoln Mercury Memorial.


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  In 1977 the British newspaper The Guardian published a special seven-page supplement devoted to San Serriffe, a small republic located in the Indian Ocean consisting of several semi-colon-shaped islands. A series of articles affectionately described the geography and culture of this obscure nation. Its two main islands were named Upper Caisse and Lower Caisse. Its capital was Bodoni, and its leader was General Pica. The Guardian’s phones rang all day as readers sought more information about the idyllic holiday spot. Few noticed that everything about the island was named after printer’s terminology. The success of this hoax is widely credited with launching the enthusiasm for April Foolery that gripped the British tabloids in subsequent decades.

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6: Nixon for President
In 1992 National Public Radio’s Talk of the Nation program announced that Richard Nixon, in a surprise move, was running for President again. His new campaign slogan was, "I didn’t do anything wrong, and I won’t do it again." Accompanying this announcement were audio clips of Nixon delivering his candidacy speech. Listeners responded viscerally to the announcement, flooding the show with calls expressing shock and outrage. Only during the second half of the show did the host John Hockenberry reveal that the announcement was a practical joke. Nixon’s voice was impersonated by comedian Rich Little.


-------------------------
7: Alabama Changes the Value of Pi
The April 1998 issue of the New Mexicans for Science and Reason newsletter contained an article claiming that the Alabama state legislature had voted to change the value of the mathematical constant pi from 3.14159 to the ’Biblical value’ of 3.0. Before long the article had made its way onto the internet, and then it rapidly made its way around the world, forwarded by people in their email. It only became apparent how far the article had spread when the Alabama legislature began receiving hundreds of calls from people protesting the legislation. The original article, which was intended as a parody of legislative attempts to circumscribe the teaching of evolution, was written by a physicist named Mark Boslough.

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In its April 1995 issue Discover Magazine announced that the highly respected wildlife biologist Dr. Aprile Pazzo had discovered a new species in Antarctica: the hotheaded naked ice borer. These fascinating creatures had bony plates on their heads that, fed by numerous blood vessels, could become burning hot, allowing the animals to bore through ice at high speeds. They used this ability to hunt penguins, melting the ice beneath the penguins and causing them to sink downwards into the resulting slush where the hotheads consumed them. After much research, Dr. Pazzo theorized that the hotheads might have been responsible for the mysterious disappearance of noted Antarctic explorer Philippe Poisson in 1837. "To the ice borers, he would have looked like a penguin," the article quoted her as saying. Discover received more mail in response to this article than they had received for any other article in their history.

-----------------------------


In 1998 Burger King published a full page advertisement in USA Today announcing the introduction of a new item to their menu: a "Left-Handed Whopper" specially designed for the 32 million left-handed Americans. According to the advertisement, the new whopper included the same ingredients as the original Whopper (lettuce, tomato, hamburger patty, etc.), but all the condiments were rotated 180 degrees for the benefit of their left-handed customers. The following day Burger King issued a follow-up release revealing that although the Left-Handed Whopper was a hoax, thousands of customers had gone into restaurants to request the new sandwich. Simultaneously, according to the press release, "many others requested their own ’right handed’ version."

=================

10: Planetary Alignment Decreases Gravity
In 1976 the British astronomer Patrick Moore announced on BBC Radio 2 that at 9:47 AM a once-in-a-lifetime astronomical event was going to occur that listeners could experience in their very own homes. The planet Pluto would pass behind Jupiter, temporarily causing a gravitational alignment that would counteract and lessen the Earth’s own gravity. Moore told his listeners that if they jumped in the air at the exact moment that this planetary alignment occurred, they would experience a strange floating sensation. When 9:47 AM arrived, BBC2 began to receive hundreds of phone calls from listeners claiming to have felt the sensation. One woman even reported that she and her eleven friends had risen from their chairs and floated around the room.


The Above Top Ten were taken from the list below.

Click The Link To Have  giggle

Top One Hundred April Fool’s Jokes Of All Time


I actually heard a classic this morning. One of the best I heard.

Thanks NYM

Someone stuck a goldfish in the office water cooler. I could just really imagine my kids waking up to that when they go to the cooler in the morning. So Much so .. I have plans.. devious plans.. *grins







Happy April Fools Day People







Myspace Easter

mayet666 23 March, 2008 15:44 General, Fiction, Poetry, Comedy, Satire, Myspace, Easter Permalink Trackbacks (0)
It is Easter time on Myspace
and frankly no one gives a phuck
the’re off watching all the drama
that is surrounding Nip/tuck

Rotten Rob is up in Alaska
living with the polar bears
he hosts the north pole bloggers meets
and shows off all his photoshopped wares

Caroline is down at the courthouse
lodging legal documents
she may not have many dollars
but she certainly has got some sense

Tommy Blaze is in the studio
recording his latest comedy show
I wish I could go to see him
But its way to far for me to go

Crabby is busy being deleted
or doing all the deleting himself
and then he sneaks back in again
like a commando switched on stealth

Sarah’s dippity in dots again
Allison is on the rum with Jude
all the guys are perving on
I think its very very rude

Deana’s boobies are off visiting
peoples pages all on their very own
you know things like this wouldn’t happen
if her big girl bra’s were all hand sown

Johnny Udaho is out talking
and he’s off visiting cat zen space
They are drinking top shelf scotch and ice
and getting very much off their face

Mrs Claytons shining the silver
for an easter party high tea
becareful of the gatecrashers
they all are wanting somethng for free

The Poodley one is off visiting
the posh poodle parlour vet
they’ll clip her nails and do her hair
she makes a very poodley pet

The beasty boy is singing
and jamming on his drum
I’m sure it makes his dick go hard
just sitting there on his bum

Christine is off somewhere with Michael
I think they are polishing up their ring
did you know that they will be married soon
I bet she will be wearing lots of bling

I haven’t seen much of Coco
or lovely Madame Quita too
Maybe they are off somewhere together
and bitten off more than they can chew

Ruby’s on the blog talk radio
talking hip with miss lala
Kit kat is handing out the chocolate
Clark is listening to the blog hoo ha

Alice is dreaming dreams of Blunderland
and all that it contains within
don’t worry about the nasty phone calls
the caller belongs inside a smelly bin

Aero and Becki fight over bacon
over on The Jolly Mullets blog
all that pornographic piggery
makes a woody bunny want a flog

Mikes playing jedi warriors
and fighting raging christian men
I think the lions side is winning
the war of words and the poisoned pen

Chaddie is out in Lisa’s closet
trying on all those pink heeled shoes
there is so many styles and colors
which ones are a boy to choose



Jabs is out in front of the mirror
practising all his radio show lines
Im sure the phones will be silent
He is bound to have a heap of time

Gabbi’s off somewhere with Casey
and Gina’s blogging as a man
I heard that Sandie changed as well
and she even stood up on the can

Munch is chasing all the ladies
and lamenting older football games
he is what you call a footy fan
he knows the players by first names

Angelheartz is counting numbers
for the top ten blogs of this myspace
you know that if you not included
your not that known around this place

Harriet is thinking that she’s hateful
but she has got a real cute bum
Marge is soaking in palmolive
and Nicoles is playing with her gun

Deonne’s is whistling in the willows
and trying on her come fuck me boots
you got to love those stilletto heels
they make her look trim around her glutes

Momma Rose is out in Texas
with her handsome young strapping lads
I wouldn’t want to be mean to her
With those sons to deal with all the cads

Doug is busy at the hairdressers
he is trying on many wigs
it makes his ego lionlike
and ready to go off hunting pigs




Captain Josie’s sailing pirate ships
with an Awsome young one alongside
One of them is Australian
the other a body to hot to hide

PQ’s off chasing rollercoasters
and all the good fun bits in life
the girl is all of beans and hormones
and she is often knee deep in strife
 
Barbara’s busy with the camera
when nip moves out of the way
she really loves that front angle
and will pose for it all day

Sly has been arrested
They thought she been up to smoking pot
godamn it was such a great party
its a crying shame it had to stop

Chell is off to visit London
and I’m sure she’ll see the queen
and although she knows she made of wax
she has fulfilled yet another dream



Kat is confusing me as always
there is two of them around here
so forgive me if I get fuddled
but from both of you i like to hear

Lorrie is out in the counting house
counting all those star search votes
Stone Bryson was the winner
he deserves to have a little gloat

Jersey Girl is the original fokstar
she is friends with Doctor Debutante
everytime they enter the blogwars
they always type in a much larger font

Doc Merrkin’s out on his motorbike
off visiting Rick in big new york
Wolfie is the gracious host
and shes cooking up roast pork



Stephanies doling out to lovestrucks
scattered all around the land
shes telling them all about life
and how boys are not so grand

Rav’s chasing ginger puddytats
from underneath his sheeted bed
but you can guarantee no pussy
on the one who gives him head

Nurse Ratchet is planning adventures
I think shes off to visit Kate
for meets and drunken parties
I’m sure they’ll end up lifelong mates

Kimberley is writing her name out
it is a really long for that you know
by the time you finish the first part
it’s not riding ass that is gonna blow

Basil is blogging naked
and cheating his way around
he is fooling all those women
the word is out in mypsace town

Trixi’s off playing Miss McBimbo
Though I heard she’s really smart
always surrounded by the drama
and protected by a big red heart



Elfies showing off that tummy
and those wonderful lady abs
all the women get so jealous
elfie’s sore from the backstabs

Shirtless John is chasing jessica
and working out in the muscles gym
I’m sure that they will be playing games
when those nightlights go down dim

Joko is playing his ukelele
and staying up all night
he knows that in the morning
his eyes won’t open without a fight

Winky’s sexing up the photographer
out in old Las vegas way
watch out for Valerie Vodka
for in that area she likes to play

Dawn’s screaming at the school system
they have really let her down
fiona’s smiling over in England
Katrina’s show is on downtown

Arris is over chasing rainbows
and blogging issues to be aware
she entered melias rack contest
and all agree she has a nice pair

Eric brooks is in the photoshop
banging away next door to oz
you never know what they will do next
but be sure it will reach top pos



Mantana is being a big dickhead
but there’s nothing new in that
I heard he’s really stupid
and hangs off silent nation’s fat

Damn girl is swearing at the heavens
and crying damn this silly world
don’t fret about the haters
in cyberspace that you have hurled

Rosewine is conjuring up some poetry
Jodi may just enter it once again
who will win the month of March
the waiting drives them all insane

Yvonne and Linda are chasing puppies
I think Mikey needs a bath you know
the one thing about those furballs
is the rate that they bloody grow

Token is out assassinating characters
I hear his got a big freaking gun
just don’t go on out goin postal
stick around we will have some fun

Bobby is recording all his past sins
with Lec and Luna hanging to his word
you know that when you get to know him
he really isn’t such a turd



Snickles gritzing up the boardwalk
and waltzing off with rotten rob
anthro’s in new york with susan
RFA and Mish are crying about a Sob

Trippers locked away in prison
I know that easter visits there
this bunny sends to you a playboy
a sweet eyed blonde with a double pair






 and Mayet is way downunder
writing all this shit you see
You know now that this ole bunny
is nothing without little ole me

I’m busy thinking all of my dittys
in the hope you will get a laugh
the last thing you want this easter
is for me to make you wanna barf

and then there is all the commentators
of this myspace world of ours
I hope you know that without you all
we might as well be out milking cows


This Easter is for all of you
there is too many of you to name
I hope your wishes all come true
and you live a life of fortune and fame

Now we are nearing to my ending
and if I have forgotten you
know within my little beating heart
I love you all I really do





So if you think this is silly
Frankly I don’t give a fuck
you don’t always have to read me
there’s the classic faux king Mr Buck

Growing Up In An Australian Dunny

mayet666 17 March, 2008 08:59 General, Comedy, Melancholy Memories, Non-Fiction, Satire, Australiana, Rose Garden Permalink Trackbacks (0)
Growing Up In An Outhouse




I grew up in a middle class family, in a middle class street in a middle class neighborhood. Most of our neighborhood at the time I was born back in the mid Sixties had had their toilet outside of the house. Australian outhouses were commonly and fashionably called "The Dunny". To get to the dunny in our case we would exit the back of the house, walk along the verandah and into the tiny room, which faced directly over into my next door neighbours backyard. Great for privacy, they knew everytime we went pee pee.



At the time we didn’t speak to our neighbours, our parent’s had falling out in a dispute over a bag of fruit, (pathetic) so my visits to the outhouse often bought ridicule from the three kids next door, who were all older than me. I was so embarrassed to step outside to go to my private business with what I felt was the eyes of the world watching me.



So I would peek out of the kitchen door first and check if the backyard was empty next door. If it was indeed empty, I would do a flying run out to the toilet and slam the door and literally hide in there. Sometimes though, this method didn’t work. My next door neighbor and later my best buddy and cohoot, would often hide down near her fence and as I did my flying run out the backyard she would spring up to the top of the fence like a jack in the box and yell out

HAHA Busted

Looking back now I can laugh but back then that public outting of my toilet habits was the source of many a night over the years spent begging and pleading with my parents for an upgrade to an "Inhouse".



This is not a dunny above but I got
Vertigo Looking at it so I had to include it.

The worse times growing up with an outhouse, were when the neighbours were having a great big party in their backyard, which they often did. Those times taught me immaculate bladder control. I would be too embarrassed to step outside because to be sure I would be greeted by howls of laughter as I vanished into the little room to do my business. My Overly active imagination would believe they could actually see through that door and actually watch me as well.

The really bad thing about the whole set up and especially when the neighbors were having yard parties was the risk that someone else would try and use the toilet while you were in there which would then expose you sitting on your throne with pants around the ankles, to about 50 Teenagers all drinking and having a merry time next door.
(I swear they used to have the parties just to watch our family travel back and forth to the loo all day)



Then we get to the seat itself. Did we have a simple plastic seat on our toilet? No we had to have one of those super duper heavy ancient Bakelite toilet seats. They were a pretty durable addition to the Australian "Dunny" back in the sixties and yet they didn’t last. They were replaced eventually and I know the only reason why. It was ONLY because those blasted bakelite toilet seats were so freezing cold in winter and I mean freezing. It would be agony to sit down on the seat and I would dream of a plastic seat daily in winter.



As I grew older I developed a knack of putting my hands face down on the cold seat at the front and sitting on my hands instead of the icy seat.





The room itself in the early days was very boring. I would sit there for hours (well it seemed so) and stare at the bland off white colored walls and the baby poop brown colored door. There was one tiny frosted slatted glass window, way up near the roof behind the commode itself and there was one frizzy oid toilet brush in a pale lemon faded bucket. Of course, being a slatted window meant the nice icy breeze blew right down those diagonal vents onto two already freezing cold exposed goosepimpled butt cheeks. The floor was cold cold smooth concrete without even a rug to keep the tootsies warm.

Not very inspiring.

I devised a plan one day when I was around 11 or 12. I decided that it was high time the Dunny had a paint job and makeover. So after getting permission off Dad we went down to the hardware shop and bought some paint to "give it all a new do". The paint I chose was pink, a pale pink for the walls and a deep dark Cerise pink for the doors. It was a full gloss paint to because I hated the feel of flat paint on walls.



That pink would have been wonderful in a large bathroom, but in our tiny outhouse it was a disaster. A technicolor disaster at that. I could promise anyone a headache if they even sat in the room for five minutes after the pain job. As I grew and came home drunk with a hangover the next morning, the toilet color would remind me never to ever drink again. To his credit Dad did wait till I left home to repaint the outhouse back to the dull staid off white it orginally was.




But the worse memory of the outhouse involves my notorious neighbours and a freezing cold winter on what we used to call in Australia "cracker night". It was held in June each year and this story was set in one of the last years before household fireworks were banned in Australia. I guess this ditty was one of the reasons why. In the big packs of fireworks, would be long thin cardboard tubes labelled "ball shooters". These were the most popular to the "deviants" around the neighborhood, who fired the ball shooters at everything but the sky. The other popular fireworks were throwdowns but that is another story





Well this one year one dark night I checked and the coast appeared to be clear so I raced out to the toilet. Just as I raced along, my neighbor put her head over the fence and aimed something at me. The next moment, zap, zap, zap. Bright colored balls of gunpwder were exploding all around me and on me. I screamed and tried to run faster with my ear and hair on fire. I closed the door once I got inside and cried and cried. My clothes were all burnt and I was terrified but there was still the return journey back to the house to worry about. I waited. I waited in that damned toilet for half an hour hoping my parents would realize I was missing and come and look for me. I waited and waited to no avail.



Finally I was getting colder and colder and my burns seemed to be burning more and more skin off so I decided to make a run for it back to the house. The return journey was even more difficult as I had to open the wire door as well as the wooden door at the back of the house. I sat there gathering courage and hoping that she had gone inside and forgotten that terrorizing me was her favorite passtime.

I peeked through the keyhole into the blackness outside. I don’t know to this day how that could have helped, light looking out a keyhole into darkness is not a successful venture at the best of times. It seemed silent and dark so i decided to "do it". I took a deep breath and threw open the door and started to run. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a shadow move on the other side of the fence and suddenly whack whack whack, Whack Whack ouch ouch, I was being attacked from all directions. I hadn’t realised that while I was safe on my commode, my neighbor had called her older borther and sister outside as reinforcements and they were all lined up along the fence aiming those dreaded ball shooters at their terrified target.. Me.

Of course the door wouldn’t work and I was in such a rush to open it I nearly went straight through it. Finally I was inside safely and my mother was standing there in front of me looking rather quizzically at all the smoke rising from my scorched clothes and sniffing the air which was now thick with the smell of burnt singed hair.



I looked at her and just shrugged, we were used to the neighbors by now and I just said to her .. MUM when I grow up.. I am never ever going to subject my kids to an outhouse.... and do you know something..... I never have......

The Manblog

mayet666 16 March, 2008 06:46 General, Poetry, Comedy, Satire, Myspace Permalink Trackbacks (0)
I wandered over to my friend Sandie’s blog today and found an absolutely hilarious blog about Sandie’s secret life as a man. Sandie was taking up a blogging challenge issued by Casey.

Sandie’s Secret Life as A Man



I love me some Sandie Candie
She makes it fun around here for sure
Everytime I read her blogs
I rolll around laughing on the floor

She is always Bright and Bubbly
and loyal to all those that she’s met
Sandie Candie Keeps on smiling
and spreading joy about the net

Her Blog Inspired me to think what I would do if I was a man for 24 hours.




So on behalf of a fabulous warmed hearted wonderful person, I wrote this blog.

If I was a man in this wild land
I most certainly would have some fun
I would grow some hairy manboobs
and show them off out in the sun
I would chat up all the ladies
leer and grope and squeeze their bum
I would swear and cuss and curse alot
and get rolling drunk from skolling rum





I would Scratch my balls



Ensuring I cocked one leg and screwed up one eye while attempting this.


Stand up to do a pee



shake him and leave yellow Pee dots on the seat



Leave the toilet seat up



Put the lid up after I pee and not replace the empty toilet roll





Bring mud on my boots into the house



and then take my boots off in the living room and leave them there.



Refuse to wash the dishes



and definitely don’t scrape my plate scraps into the bin.



Walk out and go to the pub when the kids are screaming



and have a quiet game of drunken darts



Have a "wank" or "pull my pud"



making sure I stick the centrefold pages of playboy together




Walk around with no shirt on all day



and flex my muscles in the mirror, sucking in my gut for the side view



Get a head job




and make her swallow


Go to the pub with the boys after work



and come in rolling drunk about 2 am



Stay up all night playing video games



and leave beercans and full ashtrays along with a sleeping buddy or two in the living room



Spend two hours on the toilet farting loudly and moaning




while reading the daily newspaper making sure I didn’t use the toilet brush afterwards





Sleep in of a morning and not get up to the kids



and tell the wife to keep them quiet I have a big night ahead





Have dinner waiting for me on the table when I walk in the door



and expect a cold beer sitting next to it




Surf for porn on the net all night



and hang pinups of a washed up Jenna Jamieson



Shave my whiskers



Then slather aftershave with pieces of toilet paper stuck onto my missed bits



Roll over after sex and start snoring



and make her sleep in the wet spot


pee on the tree



while whistling stread legged and looking up at the sky




Walk around with a hairy plumber crack



Ensuring I have a good old scratch every now and then




Wear a only a pair of boxers down to the corner shop to get the milk in the morning



Said Boxers must be black satin and display red devils on them


and finally I would spend the last few hours as a man in jail because I would just have to



Flash Someone


So now you know everything I would do in my life as a man for 24 hours.

So I ask you. If you were the opposite sex for 24 hours What wouldn’t you do.

I know I wouldn’t fix the car
or hammer nails in

What wouldn’t you do?

Would you take the opportunity to have sex with someone as the opposite sex?

Ode To The Dunny

mayet666 13 March, 2008 16:21 General, Poetry, Comedy, Melancholy Memories, Non-Fiction, Satire, Australiana Permalink Trackbacks (0)




I walk out the back in the dead of the night
To the little dark room with a dim overhead light
I hurry inside and then shut the door
and pick up my book that sits on the floor




I pull down my pants and with a great sigh
And a rip and a tear I then let it fly
I stare at my book but find I can't see
I feel my insides are being stung by a bee



I moan and I groan and I fart and I roar
I'm sure they can hear me right over next door
As I sit on my throne I look all around
And snort a bit more as I add to my mound



I never knew really I had eaten that much
I swear to god on the food I'll not touch
I beg and I plead as I pass out my inside
As waves of great pain take me on a rough ride




I then look around as I finish my job
And in high distress I let out a great sob
I peer at the wall to the hang of a nail
Where sits the bum roll I bought at a sale




My face falls as fast as my poop on the mound
Suddenly I yell out in a deafening sound
Oh no please not me and not at this time
I've run out of paper with my butt full of grime




I look madly around while I squeal out loud
As gas from my pile rises in an odorous cloud
I look at the floor and I see that its clean
Oh when will I awaken from this very bad dream



My head goes all foggy and it shakes in a daze
I glance down at my book in a jack daniels haze
It was an old classic a leather bound Peter Pan
But it wasn't much help right here in the can



I yell out for someone for anyone to help
But no one answers not even my dog's yelp
With a great sigh I grimace and hug my book tight
Bye bye my baby but I need help with my plight




I close my eyes tight and grab hold of the book
And tear out the pages right through captain Hook
I pucker my bum and give one last push
And screw up my face as I rub at my tush




waves of pain wash over and tears fall from my eyes
it's shredding the skin off from my delicate thighs
I cry and I moan and sweat runs from my brow
I honestly feel I have given birth to a cow



It's time to stand up and go face the world
With a look on my face like it's dinner I hurled
I zip myself up and push down the pain
I think it's enough to drive me insane



 I start to exit with a much smaller stride
my cheeks squeeze together in agony to hide
With all of that gone I don't feel such a blimp
I start to walk out with a bandy legged limp

 

 

The pain doesn't stop for hours on end
 it will be time before my bum's on the mend
So the moral of this one is simple you see
Make sure you've got paper before you go pee

 

 



Well Blow Me Down

mayet666 29 February, 2008 06:15 General, News, Current Events, Non-Fiction, Satire, Animals Permalink Trackbacks (0)


and Now for something completely different

 

As some of you know, I get up really early of a morning

 Before Sparrow Fart or "dawn" as it is politely known.

 

Of a morning during those precious quiet, peaceful, tranquil, serene, relaxing childless dark hours, I write. .....and read. I am an avid News and Current Affairs reader. I have this kind of ritual when I step into my office with my morning coffee. After refreshing myspace blog page I click along my shortcut bar in my browser to open up my daily websites. These include two Australian Newsfeeds, Two International, Environmental News Updates and Planet Ark, Latest Earthquakes Shakes Map, Global Volcano warnings, Pacific Weather satellite images and in the American Hurricane season that Includes the Carribean satellite maps to track any hurricanes. Then I open Perez Hilton. Then I go through and pick out articles that catch my eye and read the headlines. By the time I have finished with the updates on those sites I have satisfied my curiousity on just what the state of my world is for the day.


Australia is in Cyclone Season. When This was first posted there was three potential cyclones near Australia. The map updates automatically.  Out to sea off the coast is a depression forming nice and tightly. (The whote spot)

Quite often something I spot on one of those sites will be the subject of a Piece I will begin to write with it still fresh in my mind.

That was the case this morning.

My Amusement and dry sarcastic wit was sparked by an article in my National Newsfeed. I mean maybe it is just me but do you ever wonder why there is so much starvation and anger and war and pain in the world. There are so many IMPORTANT problems that need to be addressed and fixed and healed, not just patched with a bandaid.

Do you ever wonder if journalists and editors have too much times on their hands?
Do you ever think of the statement

"The dumbing down of the people"

 Sitting here I can see so many reasons why this following headline should not have been on my "top stories" feed on the major Australian Newspaper's website today. It reminds me of watching Sesame Street when I was a kid and Big Bird Singing

"One of these doesn't belong here."

and while I am on the subject of Sesame Street, did anyone ever really like that show as a kid?

 

I can also think of how better off I was before I so incredulously read this wayward headline and pondered the millions of dollars invested in placing this one particular article before me on my breakfast menu.

However somehow, somewhere, sometime, someone may... ….and I say may very loosely here, gain some type of benefit out of this article. Other than to shake one's head and to ponder as I have done, I really don't think it is going to help us much.

Of course I might be wrong and this particular article may hail a wonderous new thing.

So by now you will be probably wondering what the heck is this strange headline that I am sprouting about?

That's Ok…….. you can wonder

 

Because I wonder too

 

I really do scratch my head and amazement when I see headlines like this in my top ten News Feeds For International and National News

Well you did ask, so the least I can do is share my wonderous learning experience with you and the least I can do is to show you, to see if you too pick out my little "Wayward Article" that has given me hours of musings this morning

This is what I opened up on my top Newsfeed for the morning. These are the top 6 articles for World News and top 6 for Australian News.

 

The World and National Headlines.

 

 

Have you spotted my amusement yet?

 
 

Oh I know they get some pretty silly names for headlines sometimes, I'm used to that. I don't know about you but my eyes almost popped out of my head when I saw this headline sitting near the bottom of my top six world news features and I just HAD to click it and read it

 

Numeracy helps fish go shoal searching

Now WTF is that

Do you mean to tell me that some group of intellectual idiots somewhere thought it might be a great idea to spend millions of dollars to figure out whether fish can count or not?

 

Ok so that is just the headline but maybe the article itself is fascinating.

 Well here is a little Excerpt for you to ponder...

PYTHAGORAS may not be nervously twitching in his casket just yet, but the unique quality of humankind's mathematical abilities has taken yet another knock from the animal kingdom.
Fish are able to count to four, according to experiments that involved giving them the option of joining shoals of different sizes.

 ===============================

Ok so now we know that fish can count to 4 just because a clever little bunch of cookies took way too much laboratory LSD and decided that we just HAD to know that.

How does anyone figure that counting is a human ability?
Lets look at this logically.

I am a little kid, two years old. In front of me are my mum and dad and mummies friends that I don't know. I know there is four people there even if I don't know what the actual Number 4 is. I can go up to each of the people when asked and touch each one of them. And if I get scared, I run to my mummy and daddy but not my mummy's friends.

I am a baby. My mummy and daddy are in front of me. I know there is a mummy and a daddy there and they are not the same person because sometimes daddy is not here and then sometimes mummy isn't but Can I count to two?

I am a giraffe in the wild being stalked by a pride of lionesses. I know there is one to the front of me and one behind me and one at the side but can I count to three?

 

<p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal">So why don't they just say Fish have fucking eyes and can see objects with them.
 

 

I mean seriously .. Have you ever wondered How they pick out which one is their own particular  mum or dad or spouse. I mean it's not like they go oh look, theirs a short fat blonde with blue eyes.. thats my mum.. and that brunette over there, the six foot tall skinny one is your mum. They are fish.. they are identical for crumbs sake, so they have to be smart enough somehow to tell that this here is my shoal... and that there isn't.

Then the next paragraph made me spit my coffee rather messily over my keyboard. Wow. What can I say but WOW.

 

 

To establish whether the fish have a head for figures, the team based their study on the fact that females who are being harassed by a male will bolt for the largest nearby shoal for cover.

Yes folks, these are our scientists. Not much hope for the world. I have one thing to say to you people who wrote the report.  "My three year old daughter could have written that just by using logic".

 

Of course they will run to the bigger shoal for protection… I certainly wouldn't run to a vertically challenged little person to hide behind

but if there was a giant handy, well der...

If someone yells BOO at my baby girl I could bet my knickers she would run screaming to her big strong tall daddy and go right around me to get there. Big Is Safe.

I am afraid to explain to the Professors and noted Intellectual brainiacs who carried out this revered and revolutionary study that It is Instinct, logic and common sense in a world of shark eat fish. Nothing mathematic about it except for survival odds mayhaps.


Look at the magic above of all those fish swimming around in one direction. In almost perfect unision and speed they are circling the shark. Notice they don't breach their own wall, like they are swimming aorund an invisible barrier.
And yet we have this stupid article telling us that fish can count to four?

Then there is this little ditty thrown in.
"Whether fish have a head for figures"

I am sorry but I just lost it on that part.

 

I began imagining my annual trip to my accountants office to be have my taxation done by none other than John Dory and his wife and partner Silver Dory.

 

And I must say…. The one fact I did get out of this study that was beneficial to me.How I don't know yet but it seems like the sort of Useless information I like to retain and spring on people in peculiar situations.

Male Fish are horny bastards just like male humans and they like to chase pretty girls for a roll in the weed.

But really just as I was getting excited about University level brain activities of dumb fish who jump on my hook without much coaxing, I read this 

At larger numbers the difference between the shoals had to be bigger for the fish to make a meaningful choice. A ratio of 1:2 was high enough, such as the difference between eight and 16 fish in a shoal. But when the difference was smaller, such as 12 to 16, the fish did not show a preference.

I prefer to think that the fish know more about Geometry and shapes more than pure math. They certainly know the difference between big and little but I guess that helps to distinguish the difference between a BIG shark and a LITTLE clown fish for them way down in the deep. I mean it is a fatal choice isn't it.. and lets face it.. the dumb ones died out long ago…..
 

So there you have it…… Numerical Fishies… They will be starring on Numbers as the FBI's latest covert operatives next. 

Do you remember in ID4 When Jeff Goldblum's Screen dad Ira said

 "You don't actually think it costs 25,000 for a new white house toilet seat do you?"


 

And that really made me wonder. Do they really actually carry these studies or is it total widespread dumbing down.

 

"Well Mr. President, we really need 6 new IBM's secretly pointed at Russia so I think it's time for another Fish Study".

"Yes of course Madam Secretary, How does a 15 Million grant sound? Oh and we need to grab another one of those junior high school essays again Madam to use as the study report."

After perusing this article and reading about this Study I am honestly starting to think that Humanity needs more help than I ever dreamed it needed.

 The world really desperately needs a life coach

Priorities need to be explained in plain simple ABC English to these people and numerical fish studies aren't it.

 As my Glen said when  told him about it and we had a big laugh.................
"Geez mustn't be much happening in the world if they are that hard up for news"

So their hard up for news Stories "Filler Article" became my mornings satirical amusement that I just had to share with you.

Then again maybe I just have a warped sense of humor and a very left of centre view of the world.

Numercial Fish Article


Mayet's Quote of the day thanks to the lovely Linda

"To Shoal, or not to Shoal, THAT is the question!"



Linda's Profile

Sale Of The Century And Fear Of Flying

mayet666 21 February, 2008 18:15 General, Melancholy Memories, Non-Fiction, Satire Permalink Trackbacks (0)

 

The months past quickly and soon July turned into August. Finally the phone call came on a Monday morning. Taping was on Wednesday, would I be able to fly down? Umm well I will just take a moment and lock a box down in my mind before I answer that.

 

Oh Is the pope a catholic? Do Kangaroos poop in the bush? Will I fly down to Melbourne, to be chauffeured driven to the TV studios of the Largest TV network in the nation and then be pampered and spoilt in a dressing room with makeup and hair stylists, star spotting and dinner with a free appearance on TV where I could win some prizes thrown into the mix?  You Betcha Ass. Fear of Flying? What Fear?

 
Mikes Photography


"Oh Yes of course I will be there, what time does the flight leave"

 

Tuesday night I couldn't sleep a wink and I was very tired when I dragged my bones out of bed before dawn to travel up to Sydney Airport. I was terrified, I really hate flying. Oh it's not the flying itself I am scared of, give me wings any day and I will soar, a little lower than Icarus though. It is just that I don't know who is flying the plane and what he did last night. That goes for the mechanics too. Were they hungover and missed an all important bolt that holds the tail rudder in place? Besides I am a writer, the planes I think about crash. What sort of story begins and ends safely at an airport with no drama in between? Even Mine here doesn't.

 


 

My ticket was business class, to this day I don't know the difference between the "classes" and I guess that is why I wasn't so successful at school. All I know was that being seated squashed in the window seat, next to a fat fat man in way way too tight business suit was not the optimum way to travel. What is it with airlines, do they see I am so tiny and figure I can give three quarters of my seat up for Mr. 400 Pounds?

 

He was quite nice though and kept talking to me while the engines revved up and sweat began pouring out the palms of my hands. Maybe he sensed I was nervous, although that was not too difficult to guess with the stiff as a board, startled as a rabbit in the headlights stance I was taking myself as the plane itself was taking off. Of course he regaled me with stories of how he flies between the two cities every few days. He went on to explain in great detail to me all about the common woes of turbulence as I was watching the big monitor out of the corner of my eye flash through thousands of feet a second, climbing in altitude. "Most of the time you get some turbulence," he said, "Oh, it is not often that the plane actually drops a hundred or so feet but it does happen.

 Gulp!!

 By this time I had turned grey and I looked out my tiny window over the wing just outside to get away from the claustrophobic atmosphere of the plane. Uh Oh bigger mistake, the wing was shaking, I could see it vibrating and wobbling out there. My writer's imagination started to get away from me and I pictured the pop rivets working loose from the vibration, with the wing horrifically and catastrophically tearing away from the wind forces outside the plane. I never knew hands could sweat so much. I think at that point I turned green, I know I turned violently ill.

 I stood, turned to my overly friendly companion and looked at him regretfully, "Sorry, bathroom" I explained with a little shy smile.

 

Of course it took me five minutes to get passed him into the aisle. I should have just said Stay there! and then done a rabbit spring bolt into the aisle over his head but I managed to hold onto some sense of decorum in my mounting panic. I almost ran to the toilet and sat down, panting, trying to get my breath back and calm down the fear.

 Hey this was alright.

 I told myself that it could be a toilet anywhere that I was now seated in with a puddle of sweat pooling at my soggy feet. I looked around and nodded to myself, "Yes, this in fact, could be a train toilet and I am not really on a plane, I am on a train or a bus even and this is the tiny bus toilet". The sweat subsided and my breathing returned to normal slowly. I started to wonder just how long they gave you to go to the toilet in these things. I figured I had about fifteen minutes before anyone started to raise alarms so I set about getting myself quite acquainted with the tiny silver cubicle. I marveled at the curve and drop of the toilet bowl itself and how everything was designed for you to even have a shave in there if required. Finally I figured it was time to face the world again, or in this particular instance, the air outside my safe little haven. I sat on the seat for another minute or so composing myself and preparing myself. By now my hands had almost dried. I had never seen anything like it and I was amazed that stress and fear could do that to a person. I know now why they say never to trust a person with sweaty palms. I looked at my hands and imagined devious business dealings and sweaty palmed handshakes over transactions with millions of dollars of black market money. Ah it was all good, sometimes my writers imagination could completely get my mind off something else. What was I stressed about again? I stood up and walked out, confident I had overcome my fears as walked along the aisle towards my seat.

 
Uh Oh, I am in a plane.


 I cannot get away from it, there they are, those seats lined up exactly like in every writers nightmare novel and every disaster movie known to man. The double rows of seats at the side and the row of seats down the middle with a nice smiling cabin crew member standing at the other end, part way through the usual demonstration of what to do in an emergency or crash. She looked and smiled at me as I was walking towards her, in one hand she held the oxygen mask aloft and in the other she held a lifejacket as the video screen behind her demonstrated the flashing lights in the aisles. I went white, there was no other color left to go. My legs shook under me and my hands started pouring sweat faster than Niagara Falls pours water.

 

I wobbled to my row of seats and my overly friendly fat fat man with my eyes fixed on the life jacket waving around down the front in some kind of morbid fascination. Wasn't this a "Glass half empty," kinda thing. Why even mention crashing if this umm .. vehicle is as safe you proclaim. Sure enough the crew member was in fact now promoting the perfect historical safety record of the airline with an animated look of sheer bliss on her over painted face. By now my head was spinning and my face was changing colors faster than Michael Schumacher changes gears.

 

I began to squeeze past Mr. 400 pounds when I was silly enough to look up, straight out the little tiny window and straight onto a very wobbly vibrating plane wing. Uh Oh, Panic stations again. Too much, I really really want out of here. I turned and made a beeline back to the toilet. I somehow managed to compose my face as I tried to look like I had forgotten something in the tiny little silver cubicle.

 

After shutting myself inside and sitting once again on my tiny silver throne controlling my breathing and wiping my hands for a few minutes, I looked at my watch. Half an hour had gone past since we had taken off in Sydney. I quickly calculated the times and realized that there was only 35 minutes to go. If I spent another five minutes in the toilet, then went and sat down and focused on my book and book only, I might be able to do this.

.. 

I sighed and looked around again. I began talking myself up again. The sensible fairy sat on my shoulder and started chattering away. "Come on, after all you have done and all you have ever faced, you can't even get to Melbourne without a sweat? How many planes fly around every single day without accident. It is safer odds than traveling in a car" She was right but then there was the imp on the other shoulder that was saying something else. "Yes but in a car you can often walk away or avoid the collision but in a plane there is only one way and that is straight down." He was right too. Which part of me to believe?

 

Eventually I decided I more brave than I was scared so I gingerly stepped out again and walked steadily back to my seat, being careful to avoid eye contact with cabin crew, curious passengers and tiny windows.

 

Mr. 400 pounds looked quite contrite as I squeezed myself flatter than a thin based pizza in order to squash past him. "I say, I didn't turn you a bit off with those turbulence stories did I lovey"

 

I turned and looked at him with a grimacy smile, concentrating hard on his chubby red face in order to swallow my mounting fears down. As I answered him I reached behind me and pulled the tiny blind down over the window and my horrifically picturesque view of a wobbling vibrating wing.


 

"Oh no not at all. I think the take off made me a tad queasy."

 

I bent down and picked my book up and immediately glued myself in it. Only I couldn't glue. The plane decided that it was just the perfect time to encounter my morbidly obese friend's "Turbulence."  The plane started bumping up and down and then dropped slightly, leaving my stomach still on the ceiling. It landed back inside me with a thump and I gripped my book tighter than a vice as the pilot's voice came over the speaker system apologizing for the rough ride and explaining it would soon be over.

 

Ooh that sounded too ominous for my imaginative mind. I buried my face in my book and pretended to read as the plane bumped and wobbled along the journey south. It wasn't working, I had to overcome this. With a thud that made my neighbor jump in his seat (if that was possible) I tossed my book back down onto my bag. I sat back, gripping the armrests as I talked myself into overcoming the fear. Slowly I turned and peered out the window.

 

Not good not good it's wobbling out there. I forced myself to keep looking as I reasoned with myself and then I glanced down. I felt my mind drop the thirty or so thousand feet and shatter on the ground. I kept the mental hold and slowly my mind re melded as I took in the sights below. I was still scared but by now logic had beaten panic back into his corner.

I turned and started taking in my surroundings for the first time. As usual the other passengers fascinated me. The expressions on faces were so wooden and unmoving. It was more lack of expression in fact. Suddenly above my head in front the seat belts light flashed and the pilots voice came over the radio system. We will be landing in Melbourne Shortly and hope you had a good flight, yadda yadda, the voice droned on as I watched the altitude screen drop the numbers faster. Closer and closer to freedom I thought as I belted myself in and prepared myself for the landing.

 

I was so brave. As we were coming in to land I actually peeked out the window…….for a whole second until the orange panic button marked "not a good idea" flashed on in my mind. The Pessimistic Imp sat on my shoulder shattering away as he gleefully reminded me that most accidents happen on lift off and touch down but soon enough the sensible fairy came out racing out with gloves on and with a whopper of a right hook, King Hit the Imp and KO'ed him in one. Touchdown. Safety, We had arrived in Melbourne.

 

As we taxied to the terminal I gathered my bag together and started slapping myself and berating myself for being such a fool. I wasn't too pleased with myself as I walked slowly up the tunnel, trying to regain my land legs and sensibilities while thanking my lucky stars that I had made it this far. Walking out into the terminal I was stunned to see a group of men in smart business suits with cards held up in front of them, calling out names. Oh seeing the men didn't stun me, I had seen them before. What stunned me was the second man along who looked very dapper in a funeral like black suit was holding up a card with my very own name on it. Just for me.

 


I walked up to him and pointed at the card. He asked if I was Margaret and I said yes and He asked me to step over behind me to stand with two other people who were sheepishly waiting behind him looking just as lost as I was.

 

Mr. Chauffeur ushered the three of us out of the terminal into the hazy sunlight. In front of us was a huge shining black limousine. He opened the doors and told us to hop in and he explained her would be back shortly when he has picked some bagged up.

 

The three of us looked around at our surroundings and then into each others eyes. We all laughed at the same time.

Wow, star treatment.

 

And so it began but you will have to wait for the third and final Installment of Sale of The Century to find out just what happened at the studios

 

So Tell Me

Do You Like Flying?
What is Your Fear?
Have You Overcome Fears?
What is your worst fear experience?

and remember.. I would love to know and I love long comments.. *grins


 

and a short note. The finalists of the February 2008 Poetry Contest are now up. If ohaven't done so, drop over to Rose's Blog and have your vote on which of the finalists you think is the best poem. Fantastic quality poetry.

 

2008 Poetry Contest - Feb Finals

 

 


The Great Emu Takedown

mayet666 16 February, 2008 22:15 General, Comedy, Melancholy Memories, Non-Fiction, Satire, Australiana Permalink Trackbacks (0)

The warm spring afternoon breeze wafted gently around, blowing the strands of my long messy auburn hair around my face. I ignored it. I was sitting up in the Figtree engrossed in my latest Alistair MacLean novel and I didn't move an inch, until finally the sound of my mother calling me in for dinner pierced through my foggy consciousness. I slowly dragged myself back from the Russian Submarine encounter I had been reading about and looked around me for the first time in what seemed to be hours.

 We lived in a standard three bedroom house with a single garage in a city suburb. There were houses each side of us and behind as well as across the road. Our own property had sturdy side fences and gates that were always shut, keeping the front and back yards separate. The yard was lined with some trees near the back fence and right up in the corner, where I could almost imagine I was in another world, was my Figtree.

 I grudgingly climbed down the tree and walked down the yard into the kitchen and sat at the table, facing out towards the back yard, my lamb chops and vegetables already set out in front of me. The back door had been left open to allow the breeze to freshen up the house, which was thick with the aroma of mum's cooking. Mum and dad came and sat down opposite me and Cathy was sitting near the wall facing the stove. All was quiet as we began to eat our food.

 Dad believed in eating and no talking at the dinner table. So mealtimes were always quiet and boring as far as I was concerned and I would pick at my food, staring out the back door, longing for it all to be over so I could go back outside and explore some more.

 I tackled my chops with my knife fork and looked outside as I chewed my food and contemplated life. Then the most amazing odd and bizarre event happened.


 


An Emu ran along my backyard in front of my swing set.

 

I blinked and shook my head and looked again. It was still there. My mind struggled to grasp what my eyes had seen. No way. Emus are wild, this is a city and this is a locked gated backyard. The sensible fairy jumped on my shoulder chattering away, denying what my eyes had seen.

 "Umm dad" I said, "An Emu just ran across our backyard".

 Dad looked up at me with a frown on his face, oblivious to the scene unfolding behind his back.

 "Will you just eat up and be quiet". He said.

 I didn't blame him, I was the one that had seen the Emu and I wasn't sure whether I believed it either.

"No dad, turn around, there is really an Emu in the backyard".

Mum raised her eyebrows and glared at me, as if I was making up stories and went to silence me again but curiosity and the dumbstruck look on my face caused Dad to turn and peer out the back door into the late afternoon sunlight.

 
There staring back at him, not six metres away was a huge rag tag, exhausted looked scared Emu. It just stood there, staring and panting, with it's huge eyes blinking warily at us. Dad and I both started to stand up and all of a sudden two men ran across the backyard towards the Emu, who of course bolted towards the side fence. Hot on their heels followed a fat out of breath, grey haired police sergeant with a young eager eyed rookie constable tagging by his side.

 


By this time mum had poked her head around the door to see what the commotion was and then promptly screamed when she saw the hive of activity in the yard. More people began wandering in the side gate and spilling into my backyard. I ran to the front window and was amazed to see police cars, fire engines and about fifty cars pulled up outside in my suburban street. People came piling out of the cars and out of the houses around us and they all streamed on into our backyard, where the Emu was by now backing into the corner with a terrified look on its face.

 My next door neighbor Kylie, who was a close friend of Cathy's and Mine, stood at the side gate greeting the people streaming into now opened side gate with her usual classic dry humor.

 "welcome, come right in ladies and gentlemen, make yourself at home. Cup of tea and cookies while you are here?" I don't think they quite appreciated her dry sarcasm. They stared at her blankly and keep on streaming in.

 In the kitchen our meals were left uneaten on the neatly laid table, Mum and dad had moved over to the kitchen window to get a better view of the proceedings and Cathy had long since disappeared into her bedroom, probably hiding under the bed by now, as far away as she could get from the Emu. She hated them. I grabbed my old camera and walked out the back, deafening myself to mum and dad's half hearted attempts to call me back in.

 I called out to Kylie over near the side fence as I walked out. 'Doesn't seem to be working, try charging them a dollar each admission".

 By now our backyard was absolutely trampled and distinctly overgrown with police, fire officers and hundreds of sightseers everywhere. All of those sightseers had one mission, to see the apprehension, arrest and takedown of one sore sad sorry assed Emu.

 The two police lined up the Emu in their sites around the clothesline, that still had mum's towels wafting around in the breeze and they charged. The Emu stepped sideways and hopped off to the far corner of the yard as the police landed in a heap with half the towels torn off the line and scattered around them on the ground.

 I had a big smile on my face at the whole event. It was surreal, one minute I was sitting eating my dinner in peace and quiet and now the next, there was more action than on an Indiana Jones Movie Set.

 The police got up from the ground and with added determination from the embarrassment of being outsmarted by a bird who can't even fly, set off towards the Emu who stood shaking with his head darting around for an exit.

I watched the Emu and saw his next move as he did. The police moved towards him and I grinned as he turned and quickly jumped over the wooden fence that separated our yard from our neighbors.

 Next to the fence with a gap of only about a meter was the neighbor, Mrs. Morgan's garage. It was old hat for me to jump on top of the fence and shimmy along a bit until the roof was in easy reach and I would climb on their garage roof. Mrs. Morgan and her unmarried daughter were quite accustomed to me poking my head over the other side of their garage and saying hello to them down below in their garden.

 So here was the Emu, stuck in the gap between the neighbors garage and the side fence, with only his head visible to everyone in my backyard, his beady big eye peering at us all rather angrily by this point.

 The police jumped in front of the garage and started moving up the gap towards the Emu, thinking they had him trapped when I called out to them. They stopped moving and I quickly explained that if he turned and backed up the other way towards the back corner he could easily escape up the back neighbors yard to the next street and traffic chaos.

 

I ran to the corner and jumped to the top of the fence and squeezed through the gap. It was too small for an adult to even contemplate and I grinned as I thought of the fat sergeant trying to attempt it.

 
The Emu turned his attention to me as I started waving at it. The two police officers stood out of sight at the front of the garage and the crowd lined up on the fence like they were watching the latest play at a football match. And that is exactly how it played out

 

The Emu made a kid of chortling sound and turned tail to me and made his run toward the front of the shed. The two policemen made the grab for him, the fat sergeant was just way to slow and ended up grabbing dust but the younger officer managed to get hold of one leg as the Emu ran passed faster than the road runner with the Coyote up his ass.

 

It didn't seem to deter the Emus progress, he kicked out and kept running down the yard towards the street, dragging the police officer with him.

 


In sight was his exit to freedom but just as he lined up his final dash, a group of fire fighters ran in the front gate and piled on the Emu in a rugby tackle and scrum that the great Australian legend Wally Lewis would have been proud of.

The poor Emu struggled hard and got a few good kicks into the guys holding him but eventually the young officer reached down to his belt and after a minute or so managed to get his handcuffs around the Emus legs.

 One of the fire Officers then threw a sack over the Emus head and they continued to truss him up with some rope. A couple of fire Officers were almost sitting on him to hold him still and the Sergeant by this time had back his police paddy wagon up to the driveway and opened the rear.

 I heard Kylie yell out behind me "Did you read him his rights" and there was a snicker amongst the crowd which had now split, with my back fence still lined with people and even more spilling out in the street around the fire truck and police van.

 The police picked up the Emu, by this stage I had got some beaut photos with my old camera and I was right beside the Emu as they walked him down and tossed him in the back of the wagon.

 

The crowd slowly drifted away, the sounds of doors slamming and motors starting up replaced the crowd excitement of the Great Emu Takedown. My back yard was soon left empty again, with only the masses of footprints and torn up turf to signal that anything so odd had ever taken place.

 That was when the curiosity that was my afternoon was explained. A few miles from where I lived on the escarpment, was a tiny native animal park. One of the Emus had made a giant bid for freedom and escaped to travel through peak hour outskirt city traffic, and four suburbs to my place.

 The police and emergency services had hundreds of calls out to it, two minor accidents had occurred from motorists trying to avoid it, a helicopter had been called out to respond, traffic had been stopped on two major routes and the poor Emu ended up a bit like the pied piper of Hamlin with a stream of cars and vehicles following him in lineup formation throughout his various wanderings, detours and sidetracks and quite a few miles of humanity and concrete hell.

 And he ended up in my backyard. To this day I look back at that mild spring afternoon, I can still picture myself sitting at that table, feeling the breeze on my face and I can still remember the shock registering as that Emu ran across in front of my eyes. Nothing more bizarre could have taken place at that moment in time than did occur.

 I stood speaking to Kylie for a moment before going back inside. She was laughing as much as I was and showed me the four dollars that some stupid idiot had given her when she stood at the gate jokingly calling out for $1 per person admission to my backyard. This cracked me up even further and we both shook our heads we left the now quiet yard to go in our respective houses.

I walked inside and sat back at the table. Cathy appeared from her hidey hole in the bedroom and sat down. Dad was already seated and mum placed our reheated food in front of us rather shakily. We ate in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. There was nothing to say. What could you say, though I kept one eye out in the backyard at all times after that day. You never know what is going to wander in the side gate.




*footnote. The pictures are just for show. They are not mine. I took pictures of the Emu but haven't seen that album in years. i will ask mum about it and whether she still has the paper clippings. I took the film to the local paper and they were published the next day. Hilarious.

oh yeah.. and it's true.. all of it.. it happened exactly how it is set out here.. hope you enjoyed it as much I did when it happened

The Perils And Pitfalls Of Waxing

mayet666 10 February, 2008 22:23 General, Comedy, Melancholy Memories, Non-Fiction, Satire Permalink Trackbacks (0)

The Day I lost My Virginity – A waxy tale of the first time.

 

Do you ever get sick of shaving, day in and day out, month after month year after year?

 

Yeah me too

 

I was sick of it. Sick of shaving.

 

I was sick of shaving rashes that looked like you had been sliding around on gravel

 

I was sick of blunt razors that seemed to take half your skin off with one foul swipe.

 

I was sick of spikey re-growth

 

And I was sick of it looking like I hadn't shaved for a month just two days after shaving.

 

So I started looking around for alternatives.

 

I tried a few options one of which was burning the hairs off with a cigarette lighter.

 

Now that was all well and good for toe hair. Yes I admit it, I get three fuzzy blonde hairs on my big toe.

 

But there are parts of my body which I wish to be hairless that are, how should we say.. much too delicate to take a cigarette lighter anywhere near.

 

I really don't fancy burning my armpits.

 

Next.

 

I tried hair removal creams.

 

That didn't work. I was allergic to them, all of them. I came up with huge red lumps which Helen Keller could have used as classic Braille examples to demonstrate and it was so itchy that I could have taken a hair brush to it and rubbed away furiously.

 

I was running out of options fast.

 

So I decided to step off the abyss. It was time to venture where fools step and angels fear to tread.

 

It was time to think about waxing.

 

So far I had avoided even thinking about wax. To be perfectly honest slathering wax on my bits and then savagely tearing off agonizing strips of hair and my skin, just didn't appeal to me. But drastic times call for drastic measures. I'm not one to be bothered much by pain, hell I have six kids. Surely waxing couldn't be too bad.

 

So off I wandered to the local priceline pharmacy to get me some wax.

 

I walked in and looked around and of course I had no clue so I had to walk up to the snotty blonde makeup assistant with the college degree and ask her where the waxes were. Without even looking up from her deep inspection of her fingernails, she vapidly wafted her her other arm in the general direction of one of the aisles.

 

So off I set. Well I soon found the waxes, hundreds of them, all sizes and descriptions. I never knew there was so many types of wax, it seemed there was a wax for all occasions.

 

In no time at all I was sitting, mid aisle surrounded by a semi circle of various wax boxes as I examined each one

 

Soft wax, hard wax, coloured wax, organic wax, super duper wax, sex wax .. ok that one wasn't there but I always get a laugh out of Keanu Reeves and Sex wax surfboard wax in Point Break.

 

I was lost in a sea of wax and I had no clue. I wanted an all over wax. One I could use on my legs, my toes, under my arms and my bits.

 

Yes I wanted to wax my bits.

 

99% of the waxes specifically stated "not to be used on bits" so my pile soon dwindled to about 30 waxes to choose from and I was even more lost than when I had first stepped foot in the door.

 

I peered up to the end of the aisle where I could see bimbo still examining her fingernails.. hmm maybe she was really a wax doll from Madame Trassaurds and not human after all.

 

I sighed and got up from the floor, lined about 20 waxes up on a shelf, leaving the rest still on the floor and walked up to her once again.

 

I waited until she had finished examining her pinky fingernail and said

 

"Umm excuse me I am lost. I am looking at waxes and do not know which one is suitable for what I want it for".

 

"She looked me up and down, screwed up her nose and grimaced. "I suppose you want a leg wax do you".

 

Well you all know me by now and I didn't take to well to the condescending tone so I answered her rather sweetly back with a chessy smile.

 

"No I need a box and bits wax please".

 

I was satisfied to see her composure drop along with her mouth for a moment before she turned on her heels and stomped up the aisle towards my wax pile. She stopped with her hands on her hips and without even glancing at my carefully lined up selections, swept them aside in one foul swoop, reached up to the top shelf and picked up the largest and most expensive wax on the shelf.

 

She placed it in my hands, "This is the only wax for THAT" and with THAT she turned tail again, marched off back to her counter and before I could even look down at the product in my hands was busily occupied examining those fingernails yet again.

 

I sighed and shrugged, oh well, try anything once.

 

I looked at my pile of waxes, lying discarded on the floor and grinned.

 

"Oh dear I hope she doesn't break those precious nails putting them all back neatly on the shelf" I thought, as I walked up to the payment counter with my precious package of gold …. I mean wax under my arm, along with the 25 dollars to pay for it..

 

I arrived home and waited for the opportune time to start my big wax on, wax off event. After dinner I settled the kids down for a movie in the lounge and snuck off to the kitchen to heat the wax up in the microwave and then troddled off to the bedroom to prepare.

 

I stripped off naked and sat down on a towel with my little pot of wax in front of me and read the directions. Opening the lid I was assaulted by the rather strong aroma of orchids, which would have been much more pleasant in half quantity scent only. I looked down and thought immediately of purple bubble gum as I stirred the mass in the pot.

 

Ok this seemed pretty easy, I thought. So easing myself into the whole wax experience, I started off by smothering my legs in the warm purple goo. I grimaced as I tore the wax off and looked down to see the result.

 

WOW

 

As smooth as a baby's bottom.

 

 

It was amazing and I soon figured that it wasn't THAT painful if you closed your eyes really really tight, counted to three and on the count of two ripped it off with great speed and force.

 


The wax was so stringy, it was much worse than trying to get fairy floss cotton candy on a stick at a fair. There was strings of wax and gloops all over. In my hair, between my toes, on my fingers, under my fingernails…. Ah haa that was why bimbo was so fascinated with her fingernails.. she waxed last night…

 

 

 

It wasn't long before I had a little pile of discard purple globs with spikey brown hairs stuck in them at one end of my towel. By the time I finished my now stunning legs, the wax had started to cool dramatically so I put my kimono on and went to reheat it in the microwave.

 

 

I can be blonde at times

 

 

After returning to the bedroom, I stripped off the kimono, stirred the now soft wax, lifted my leg and placed it on my recliner and smeared a great gloop of waxdown the side of my bits.

 

 

EEEEEEEEEEEE YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOW

 

 

Hot Hot Hot.. Burning burning. Hot Hot HOOOOOOT

 

I had reheated the wax according to the direction forgetting completely that there was now only half the wax that was in the jar in the first place. Overkill.. can you say boiling wax….

 

Tears poured out of my eyes as I screamed and started hobbling madly around the room bandy legged and by this time all waxed together.

 

Ouch Ouch Ouch Hot Hot Hot.

 

Of course the commotion I made was enough to wake the dead, so my husband and kids came running into the bedroom at full speed to see what was killing their mum only to find a naked woman hopping around on her toes with purple wax globules dripping off her bits, screeching and jerking around worse than an Indian at a pow wow dance.

 

They laughed.

 

And laughed. I was in so much pain and they sat there and laughed at me.

 

And then they laughed some more as they exited the bedroom and returned to their movie…….

 

still laughing.

 

I could hear them still chuckling as I peeled the now set wax off my bits and padded my now red bits with a soft fluffy towel which promptly stuck to me, leaving bits of fluff ground in with wax that I would be removing for weeks to come..

 

I did end up completing my "wax job" and by the time I had finished and admired my now smooth skin I was already marveling about Murphy joining me on my first waxing.

 

He is there for all the great events of my life after all. A true baptism of fire.

 

 

and before I leave you, hopefully smiling for the day I just want to show you one of my pics of my daughter Shay.. I love Eyes and my kids are my best subject..

 

 

 

as a footnote and inresponse of the comments. I wax all the time now. Wouldn't swap it for the world but there is one trick that I didn't know back then that could have saved me.

 

Before waxing gently rub in a layer of talcum powder in the area you are going to wax. This stops the wax sticking to the skin and leaving it red, sore and irritated. It also stops the messy bits of wax that stay behind and clog the pores for weeks afterwards.

This little bit of info is gold. You have no idea of the difference that will make. To all those who tried and were unsuccessful and red and sore.. try it with the talc trick.. It will work

 

There is also great products available as wipes or sprays to spray on afterwards to stop the hair growing back ingrown which it is prone to do.

 

and yes that is the brand and actual jar used. It really is the best, however I have learned to also take two extra flat bladed butter knives with me to negotiate the wax mess with the stick.

 

Waxing rocks. I wouldn't go anywhere else now.

 


 



Cult Of The Bitches

mayet666 05 February, 2008 06:38 General, Comedy, Non-Fiction, Satire Permalink Trackbacks (0)



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and Yay.. It was pointed out to me that this blog reached number one in Goals Plans and Hopes

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So it is descision time for little old me.

Yup it's that definition thing again which I haven't solved yet.

Where do I fit.

What cult do I join.

How do I define Myself

Just lately I have noticed a new cult - fad - trend spring up around the Internet and spilling over into reality land.


Just what is this new cult you ask.. It is

"the cult of the bitches".


 

Well the first cult I had to take a loook at of course is the cult of the bitches.

Do I define myself as a bitch

Do I call myself a bitch

Am I a bitch.

 


I was getting all excited at this point and started making some plans for my admission to Bitch-hood






How do i join Bitch hood?

Does it cost much to be a bitch?

Is there an annual fee for the Bitch hood?

Are there bitch razing rites?

Is there a list of bitch tasks I have to accomplish?

How long do I have to have been a certified bitch for?

Do I have to state my bitchness in a 2000 word application essay?

Do I have to submit a list of bitch acts I have ever carried out?

How is bitchiness scored?


 

 

Well before I even think about applying I best wander off to get the exact definition of "bitch" so that I can work out if I at least stand a chance of being admitted to this new found Bitch Hood craze.

So hi ho hi ho its off to dictionary.com we go ....

to figure out just what a bitch is to see if I fit..

The cult of the bitches.






BUT WAIT



Isn't this a bitch?





Now I am Puzzled






Let's see the definition of Bitch then...


bitch          - Show Spelled Pronunciation[bich] Pronunciation Key
–noun
1.    a female dog.
2.    a female of canines generally.
3.    Slang.
a.    a malicious, unpleasant, selfish person, esp. a woman.
b.    a lewd woman.


A bitch is a dog........OMG  a slobbering, smelling, flea ridden dog that barks, bites and leaves their smelly shit around everywhere..... I'm not liking this bitch idea by this point.......

Best I go find another definition 

oops I'm liking this less and less

bitch         (b--ch)  Pronunciation Key  
n.   
1.    A female canine animal, especially a dog.
2.    Offensive
a.    A woman considered to be spiteful or overbearing.
b.    A lewd woman.
c.    weak or contemptible.


Ok what is this lewd


 

What is this lewdness that is a definition of a "bitch".

Best I go back to dictionary.com



lewd          - Show Spelled Pronunciation[lood] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–adjective -er, -est.
1.    inclined to, characterized by, or inciting to lust or lechery; lascivious.
2.    obscene or indecent, as language or songs; salacious.
3.    Obsolete.
a.    low, ignorant, or vulgar.
b.    base, vile, or wicked, esp. of a person.
c.    bad, worthless, or poor, esp. of a thing.

 Ok so now finally after 41 years of life I know what a bitch is -  So


 I would be guessing we get different degrees of bitchiness after all we have

 
Mongrel bitches
Bitches in heat
Rabid bitches
Stupid bitches
Dirty bitches
Skanky Bitches
Feral Bitches
Smelly Bitches
Filthy Bitches
Manky Bitches


oh the list goes on .. and on..


 



Holy Bitchfests Batman






So Am I a Bitch

Can I be a card carrying member of the Bitch Hood..

NO



After careful consideration I regret to inform the world that I cannot fill the position of bitch. I am sorry I am just not a dog. I am afraid I don't fit the criteria of  being lewd, base, vulgar, bad, worthless, obsolete, indecent, salacious, lascivious, weak, spiteful offensive or overbearing  and I certainly don't rut around in the gutter.



and peoples.. as much as I would like to be able to lick my own pussy....


Sadly I just can't reach.


Ok it's time for me to wander off back to the dictionary. Maybe I am a woman. If I am not a bitch I might just be a woman

But


What is a Woman

 

How do we define a Woman


A Woman

 

 

A woman is soft and curvaceous. Warm and giving. Hot and sensual.


;


A woman is a nurturer and fiercely protective of those she loves.
A woman is a lioness and a kitten.  
A woman is a mother, a partner, a lover, a wife, a daughter, a gran, aunt, cousin,  & a niece.

A woman is kind
A woman is Firm
A Woman is  friend
A woman Cares


A woman can accomplish success in whatever she turns her hand to.
A woman is full of passion and ecstasy.
A woman is sleek and sexual.  
A woman listens and helps others.



A woman is strong.
A woman is capable.
A woman is smart and intelligent.
A woman can multi task and think quickly and react with speed.
A woman is powerful with resilience and endless amounts of stored reserves.
A woman never gives up and keeps on going onwards and upwards.




A woman feels deeply, emotionally and can express those emotions.
A woman helps and is helped.
A woman aids and a woman supports.
A woman desires and is desired.
A woman wants and is wanted.


A woman is who SHE wants to be
A woman does what SHE wants in life.



A Woman supports the dreams and hopes of those around her.
A woman walks tall with pride and yet is humbled by the universes magic.
A woman knows her assets and realizes she has flaws.
A woman accepts herself, flaws and all.
A woman enjoys life and enjoys others.
A woman is enjoyed by others.

A Woman Sees
A Woman Feels and Touches
A Woman Scents
A Woman Speaks
A Woman Listens


 

A woman is warm, compassionate, curious with an unquenchable thirst for life.
A woman is a delight.
A woman feels pain but still carries on.
A woman gets knocked down but still stands back up time and time again.


A woman hurts, a woman bleeds but a woman heals herself and others.
A woman knows how to give and a woman knows how to take.
A woman is knowedgeable.
A woman remembers.
A woman forgives and forgets.
A woman is staunch.
A woman respects and is respected.



A woman is nice but knows when to stand her ground.
A woman stands up for what she believes in.
A woman defends her family and friends.
A woman knows when to create and when to destroy


A woman is artistic and creative and intuitive.
A woman uses logic and reasoning.
A woman is spiritual.
A woman cares and is cared for. .

 


A woman is fresh as spring, burns like fire, as cold as ice and floats like the wind.



 A woman loves and is loved.

A woman is many Scents

A woman is many Colors

A woman is cuddly



A woman creates new life from within.
A woman accepts others for their uniqueness.
A woman defends her friends and holds friendship in high regard.

A woman Achieves

A woman is the lunar tides

Woman is Water  Woman is Earth

A woman burns and yet soothes
A woman changes withe the wind and the sea
A woman is thunder and lightning
A woman is a flowing river of life
A Woman Smolders
A woman is a diamond
A woman is all
A woman is nun

A woman is a pearl



A woman has many facets

 

A woman is proud to be a woman

A Woman is Endless Spirit. A woman is Me Mayet



You bitches can keep your shit in the kennel where it belongs




You see in this world

There are real men
There are real women

and then there are bitches...

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