Friday, 16 November 2012

A broken boob , Corey Hart and planning a wedding. Back to bed, say I.

 I'm a 40 yrs old teeney bopper.
Aaaand I'm getting married...again.

Yaaaay..oh, wait are you one of those religions who don't own a mirror?
'Cause lady, you is old.

As we all know, a wedding is all about who looks the best and who gives the best gifts.
Just like a marriage is all about who out lasts the other and gets the other's stuff.
(I started putting little red stickers on his stuff the minute I said 'what eva'" when he proposed.)

Unh unh unh...don't give me any of that romance and love crap.
If I want romance I'll get it where any normal girl does.
In the Fire Swamp amongst the Rodents of Unusual Size.
11 1/2 points for the person who doesn't know what movie that is from.

The frenchmen and I have been together for 16 years and raised two kids.
Romance for us is a day when I get his name straight or remember his birthday.
(You would think I would remember his birthday then wouldn't you?  Now myself, I have a birthday week and hell hath no fury if the world doesn't correspond with that.)
I'm sorry what were we talking about?
Oh, yes getting married.

Since a lot of the people who were at my first wedding will be at my second naturally they will be comparing how I looked then compared to no-..

"No, no Moi, they'll just be filled with love and well wishes and won't even noti-"
"Excuse me?"
"Really, most people go to weddings and they'd be hard pressed to tell you any details about what the bride even wor-"
" 7 "
"7 missing crystals on the left side of the dress and two minute spots of red clay on the right side of her 9 1/2 foot train. Plus she must have had extra deodorant on because some transferred to her dads tux when he walked her down the isle"
"By the way, is that part of the design of your shirt that you have two spots of deodorant on it and a missing button or should I not be pointing that out?
"...never mind Moi, go back to your story."
"Thank you"


Since the whole wedding day revolves around me and how I look I decided that certain lady parts needed to be spruced up a bit.

Just reread that last sentence and realized I sounded like I might be wearing a crotchless wedding dress...which we all know is reserved for the fourth wedding.
Hey, wedding dress wow factors get harder to achieve the more we wear them so a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do.

I decided to go to a personal trainer for just one day a week.
Being the competitive person I am I lied about how fit I am.
He used a lot of odd terms that I didn't understand like isotonic, fartlek training (*giggle* sorry!) and over training.
I being the brilliant person that I tell you all I am, just nodded along and did what ever he said.
He started telling me about a chest exercise involving lifting barbells when his phone rang.

"Go ahead Moi, start those chest exercises. I'll be done of this call in a minute."
"Alrighty then"
I stared at the barbell, then stared at my chest, shrugged and got to work.
" Yeah, dude, I totally powered out 25 reps of 275...JAZUSHCHRIST! IGOTTAGOMAN!
"What? You said it was an exercise for my chest so I just assumed..."
"How did you even get them to fold over like th- you know what, I don't really want to know?"

Needless to say I broke my boob.
Trainer boy tried to use fancy terms like pulled tendons, ligaments and mindless moron but to put it simply I broke my boob for a wedding dress.
It sounds kind of odd when I say it so with me being an 80's girl maybe I should put it into song.
See, I was born in the 70's but aside from wishing I was a boy for a year so I could ride Black Beauty('cause I'm guessing I thought the wee willy wanker had special powers for steering back then) I don't remember much about that decade.
The 80's though is burned into my memory.
Every breath I took went into squealing Stings name when he sang that famous song.

Young self -Mom, isn't that song romantic?
Mother to self- I think we will have to go over the whole psycho /stalker scenario again.
Self- Okay, but first I promised that man in the black van that I'd help him find his lost puppy.

When Morton Harkett from Aha, was trying to beat his way out of that cartoon stanza, my heart was in my throat aka my vajayjay, like the rest of you girls with our wind defying bangs.

What are you doing up there?
Just watching some videos, mom!
You're been looking at them for four hours now.
Mmmhmm...yup, you betcha yaaaa..ooooh yaaa.
(Coincidentally I started smoking at the same time)

And I got many a bruised forehead from wearing my sunglasses at night, ♪so I can, so I caaaan ♪, look as cool as Mr. Corey Hart.
"Beside that fact that I Corey, am awesomely cool for wearing my sunglasses at night, my willy wonka is this big!"

I tried to think what 80's iconic song would best fit my painful chesticle saga.
Of course Mr. Hart with his lovely pout (which I take as him saying 'Aww, poor Moi's chesticles")
was the winner. I may have changed a word or two but the tune is the same.

♪ I broke my boob last night, so I can, so I caaan, fit into a wedding dress I don't really want.
Iiiit's deceiving me.
Got my fat rolls tucked inside my v-ooops,
Iiiit's deceiving me.
I turn tothe mirror and saaaay♪

♪I can't masquerade as a bridal maid, oh-no
I'm forty yrs old
And my cherry hasn't been saved, oh- no
I don't remember
But it's been a while since I got laid, oh-no.♪

Okay, okay I am going to have to stop here as I'm supposed to be writing a short story for an anthology my writing group is doing.
Some other writers are doing poems or short stories, while as usual I'm asking the gaggle of writers if 'crotchless' is spelled properly.
I'm starting to think maybe something is wrong with the frenchmen for wanting to marry me.

Saturday, 3 November 2012

♪ I just wrote this, you think I'm craaaazy, but don't call my number 'cause I'm way too laaazy'♪

It's Fall now which means my writing group is starting up again. We take the summer off because surfing the net/Facebook/ not watching  cat videos and writing for 7 minutes a day is  damn exhausting. 
So no more fooling around, getting butt in gear here on the 'Gentle Island'.

Blog interruption 

Can I just say that is the lamest slogan for a vacation spot ever.

 Let's go on vacation!

Wife- Where do you want to go?

Husband- How about Vegas, Sin City!

W-Or New Orleans, The Big Easy!

H-California, Surf City, USA sounds like fun too.

W- Wait, I got the perfect place.

H- Where?!

W- PEI, the Gentle Island.

H- AWESOME! A gentle vacation! Let's go, oh did you pack my hand cream and my fancy loofah, honey? (said no husband ever)

Honey, these loofahs are great!
What's that?'re not supposed to use them for ...but it really feels good on my... you use it where?
Ok, yeah you're going to have to buy a new one then.

Back to irregularly scheduled blog.  

The writer's group meets once a month at the Queen St. Commons. (We also have the Queen St. Fancy but we aren't... you know. )

There was just four of us today but they are an amazing foursome.

The Writer/ The Actor/ The Businesswoman - as in she pays her mortgage with her earnings kind of writer. As in you could stick a memory stick in her ear while she sleeps and probably have about three different series started. (along with a little wax, hello!)

"Hey Moi(Mistress of Immodesty), let's get together to talk global warming and it's effect on goats."

"Okilydokily! What's a good day for you? I'm free..."

"Ummm, the rest of 2012 is pretty filled up for me. I have 4 books coming out, two screenplays, in a music video about goats and  teaching a writing course at a school along with a couple of seminars on self publishing and world domination, so how's about mid spring 2013?"

"...anyda...or next spring should be fine too. Let me just check my calender and get back to you."

The Publisher/ The Animal Whisperer/The Candy Sushi maker - the girl who decides that she likes a book and it should be published. Then why doesn't she just become a publisher, set up a company and do that? Oh, okay she did just that.
(Note: I like toast and peanut butter but the PB is on the top shelf and I'd have to stretch to get it so   ..meh. Since toast isn't the same without PB I'll just get back in bed and complain for an hour about how hungry I am....yeah, The Publisher and I are like two peas in a pod aren't we. Makin' an effort! Gettin' 'er done!)

"Hey Moi!"

"Wuuuuz up?"

"Did you get that short story done for the writer's group anthology?"

"Hell no! Haven't even come up with an idea yet? You?"

"Noooo, same boat you're in. It's hard ya know...."

"I know, isn't ...."

"...when you have to complete two other short stories already started, beta read a bunch of other authors books plus have a book launch to organize for my award winning author AND  make candy sushi. On the plus side I taught the injured parrot some geometry and the one legged snake is now kicking butt on the pogo stick."

", yeeeaahhhhh....sigh."

The Lawyer/Writer/Magic Pony - from the little bit I understand she resolves crises, comes up with amazingly original book ideas  all while floating around as a magic pony. Okay, one of those seems odd. 
Fact checking commences...Bing! Finished.
Turns out she does resolve crises in a lawyer way. Check!
Her book sounds amazeballs, (which means awesome, mom) Check!
AND she is a Magic Pony except she doesn't float, silly me, she FLY'S is all. At least according to her roller derby teammates who help her fly around the rink at craziness speeds.

"Hey Moi!"

"Hey Toi!" (One third of foreign language dictionary is now been used up)

"That was an interesting book launch the other ni...hold on, looks like a crises going on over there. Back in one second."

"No problemo. I can entertain myself. Dooobedooo  ♪I never met you, and this is craaazy, Matt Bomer ,here's my number, don't care if you're gay. It's hard to look right, aaaat you baaaby, but here's my numb...♪" (I have to come up with a second verse to that before I send it to Matt. I haven't noticed any official looking mail arriving yet, so I'll just keep sending him those lette...)

Moi, can I have your address so I can send you a letter back?
Thank you...Sargeant, you can now mail that restraining letter.

"I'm back, sorry that took so long but..."

"You were only gone for 3 minutes.."

"...I had to set up a crises intervention back at the office, plus finish a conference call, send my book to my editor and do a video as Magic Pony for junior high girls to keep them focused on  their inner  strength. So what did you do while I was gone?"

"Oh, geez, where to start? First I...oh, phone's buzzing. Never stops, got to go chat soon.

I'm looking around the table at them all as they busily type up their book, screenplay,sushi recipe, crises management skills and am amazed that I'm at the same table as them.
I wonder what they think when they look at me?

"Wish she would stop staring at us."
"I thought we were supposed to have the door locked with the lights off when she came a knocking?"
"I wonder if we can add our names to Matt Bomer's restraining order?"