Tag Archives: humor


If it means quaint, odd, strange, queer, eccentric, outlandish, bizarre, whimsical, then that is me. Oh, I have my own unique brand of droll self-mockery also. I laugh when I feel uneasy, I laugh when I see something terrible or read about hardship and misery. I laugh when I don’t feel good and I laugh when I’m sad. I have a very dry sense of humor and I am pretty ironic. You can say I am a droll little girl.



“Be daring, be different, be impractical, be anything that will assert integrity of purpose and imaginative vision against the play-it-safers, the creatures of the commonplace, the slaves of the ordinary.”

— Cecil Beaton from Berlin Parasites

It takes a lot of small things to create a big pile or a widespread. Take for example a beach, a bouquet, a festival, a mass protest, a chaos, a war. A fight doesn’t happen just like that. It often starts with/from accumulation of small things that become one big thing like dislike, irritation, too much or too little of something. Divorce doesn’t happen overnight unless of course, you are a celebrity, then everything is possible. Suicide, murder, cheating, quitting, being rich, obesity and global warming, those are also products of small loose particles which seem to be harmless at first glance but become a matter of importance when gathered together over a period of time. Stress (which on its own is also a substance of… fill in the blank) lack of sleep and proper nutrition, isolation, no motivation, stimulation, and inspiration can lead to… you can fill in the blank again. You can even type my name in it if you wish. You have my permission to do so. Getting sidetrack again. Anyway, I can go on and on naming examples of what I think grit is all about but I know people don’t care much about long articles. Especially Daily Prompt assignments so, I will leave it here and proceed on looking for something to fill my stomach so hopefully my brain will function normally and perhaps I can find a decent sleep tonight. Happy Tuesday everyone. 


True Love

I thought Transformers will always be my favourite film and Optimus Prime will always be my ultimate crush and for the longest time it remained true, till I saw the thriller of Big Hero 6 and behold this inflatable white robot that resembles a snowman/big marshmallow; right there in the cinema amidst popcorn munching crowd I fell in love on the spot, head over heels.

The fact that he is somewhat naïve only strengthens the feelings I have for this Healthcare Companion. Goodbye Optimus Prime. I never meant for it to happen but c’est la vie. Not every day a girl get the chance of meeting a man who is somewhat naïve, opportunity of a lifetime, grab it with both hands.

Given his guileless, calm caring nature and the fact that you can deflate and deactivate him with this simple phrase:  “I am satisfied with my care” make him a desirable wife material if he happened to be a female. I think it’s every man’s ultimate dream, being able to send their wives inactive from time to time. Don’t you think so?

Anyhow, the thing that made me fall in love with this bot is the scene where almost deflated he rest on the stairs landing stroking the cat on his lap saying: “Hairy baby… Hairy baby.” In my twisted brain I remembered it as: “Hairy thing… Hairy ball.” Don’t ask me where I get that because I don’t know. I already said I have a deranged mind, have I?

Three of my favourite quotes from Baymax are:

“My hands are equipped with defibrillators. Clear!”

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your pain?”

“Does it hurt when I touch it?”

Imagine that… Does it hurt when I touch it… I long to say these words (and a lot more) to someone…

Bottom line is… who would not fall in love with this huggable plus-sized inflatable deuteragonist with no distinguish features? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder they say. And if your perception can go beyond the shell of appearance into the essence, then it must be true love.

Or not?


Wet patch

I placed a comment on an article somewhere (I did not include the link because I have an inkling that the author does not want to be dragged to this sort of discussion. The person is yet to castigate me for messing up the comment section) about what part of a daily life which is awkward or boring we tend to forget while writing and I said:

“This reminds me of the love scenes in most films. They don’t show that one has to run into the bathroom in fear of dirtying the bed, or sofa or top of the washing machine, etc. Really, anyone can testify to this if at least one can afford to be honest in public that nobody in their right mind stays in bed after the deed because it is simply gross! All that running juices and sticky mess… itching and all that jazz… I simply cannot.”

Someone replied to my comment and said yes indeed bodily fluids are often ignored except in comedic situations and proceeded to tell me about a certain song of Lily Allen mentioning a wet patch in the middle of the bed. I checked out the lyrics and planning to forward it to somebody (yes I’m naughty) but the actual song I didn’t hear yet.

I’m wondering why they don’t show the reality of making love in books, movies or in TV series. Perhaps it doesn’t go hand in hand with romance? Ruins the fantasy? Not Disney enough? Redundant? Tell me… 

I’m not saying include the running to the bathroom to wash in every bed scene but once in a while will be good for a reality check. It will help us not to idolize and compare ours to what we read in books and see in films. It reminds me of fairy tales stories which media are feeding to young girls from the crib, giving them distorted ideas about relationships and life in general.  If you’re beautiful you will be okay. How about ugly ones, like me? No Prince on a white horse in shining armor? Not fair.

How about you people… do you rather see or not see those awkward moments? And I am not talking wet patch in the middle of the bed alone but all the necessities of being alive like wanting to go the toilet urgently while watching The Hobbit in the cinema, scratching, cramps, belching and allowing gasses from your stomach to come out through your…  you get it.

Or you prefer to keep it nice and sweet as not to ruin the mood thinking the reality is bad enough as it is please give us something to fantasize about even though we know the painful truth.

For my part, they can show anything, as long as it is done tastefully…



Happy New Year!

Here’s to the future we can’t predict,
and here’s to all that we will meet.
I can’t say where I’m going,
but I know it’ll be something great
because it’s the kind future
that holds our dreams.

Here’s to the future that awaits us,
and here’s to the past that will follow us.
I can’t say I won’t make just as many mistakes,
or that I’ll learn from all my old ones,
but I know I’ll be better for it
because eventually I’ll get it.

Here’s to the future that we’ll finally grab,
and here’s to all the hell we got while chasing it.
I can’t say I didn’t break,
but I’m alive and kicking today
because I kept going when I wanted to cry,
’cause hope pulled me forward.

And here’s to those who see a bleak future,
and here’s to those fools who accepted it.
I can’t say anything to reach them,
but I cross my fingers and hope
that they’ll see something worth chasing
because any journey is better with company…  

~ not mine


Mirror, mirror on the wall…

… do I have to dye my fur???

Lately, I noticed that white hairs starting to appear more and more on my head and somewhere else; more somewhere else than on my head. I saw that up there, common place is around my face; down there it’s usually around the… lips.

It’s so embarrassing when you’re doing… it. Especially when someone wants the lights on per se and… uhm… wants to eat. If I cannot find an excuse to dim the light, I usually ask if the person in question could please remove the eyeglasses hoping he’s farsighted.

Another trick is to urge him to look at me while doing it pretending the deed excites me but if the truth is to be told, it’s the other way around I think.  Ahhh… what a woman would do for peace.

Anyway, I never dyed my hair (except that one time in Spain when I had so many sangria and ended up with ten red tresses all around my face I looked like unchancy princess of darkness) and I don’t want to start doing it now. I’m a low maintenance girl. Go to the coiffure once a year; never wear nail polish, perfume, sun block or high heels. Make up is a big no – no unless I really, really have to. And my skin is so sensitive I easily get allergy I don’t even use deodorant for heaven’s sake!

But I worry about my tresses… having younger looking face but when you drop the knickers… it shows my true age. It’s like believing someone you go to bed is a real blond and finds out the next morning that either she is a brunette or a red head. How embarrassing is that?

And since we’re at it… is there anyone here who knows a good remedy for persistent dandruff? (I said dandruff not yeast) I tried almost everything to no avail. Help!!!   


perfect companion

I have a weapon in every room. No, not a gun (though I prefer to have one but…)

In the master bedroom, I have an axe which I bought accidentally without even knowing I did. I mentioned it already before, being in a DIY shop and admiring this beautiful little axe and testing the weight in my hand. In my memory, I put it back; but when I checked out I found that the cute axe was among my purchased. I didn’t return it. Not even crossed my mind to do so.

In the guest room I have this gorgeous ice pick. It feels good in the hand and looks so… harmless. I keep it in the laundry basket. The axe is hidden between my clothes. In the other bedroom there is a hammer, sleek and thin and all steel. It got a slim neck and easy handle of perforated rubber material for a good grip.

Kitchen… also a hammer but in different style, square head and really, heavy.

I know the place by itself is an arsenal, I don’t have to secure it one might say, but I feel better that way. Besides, anyone would know about the knives; but I’m the only one who know about the hammer (grin)

Next to the TV is a real axe, almost as tall as me. I found it in the shed when we bought the house. Must be for chopping wood, but I like it so much I wanted to hang it on the wall; but I can’t do it without damaging too much the already damaged wall, so on the floor it remains.

Why on earth I have these things? Same reason why I am locking doors of whatever room I’m in, I don’t want to be surprised defenceless. I remember buying two; no three massive bronze cats with extra long necks (for easy grip) from auction and putting them on my night stand simply because I thought it will come in handy. And I even hate cats!

And of course all that beautiful fireplace accessories! Poker and all! Handy.

All my candle holders are bought with the same purpose in mind. I can be anywhere in the house and I will be able to depend myself (ha ha) I remember the look on everyone’s face when I decided to put grills inside the French windows of the garage.

But they don’t see what I see. I can understand why they have to put locks and bolts and that entire security thing on doors but will leave the garage at the mercy of anyone who wants to come in. That window there take up the entire top half of the whole place, and it’s not even double glazed! Amazing!  It’s like saying: come in, come in.

What my-reason-for-living-in-Europe thinks about it…? I don’t really know. As far as I can see, it doesn’t bother him at all. He said he sleeps better when I’m in the room (God knows what that means) and I sleep better when nobody is around. I cannot even stand a smell of another individual on sheets and pillow cases. I want the room to smell fresh forever and its damn difficult if someone is insisting to sleep in it…



silver lining

Why there are days that nothing seems to connect? That you feel like being trapped between two walls and they are slowly closing in and breathing is too painful? That no matter what you do, reality is very far, far away and you float hovering above going nowhere seeing everything gray from morning till evening and your head is like an over stretched balloon with a few bricks inside about to burst at any moment with or without provocation then suddenly you will find yourself plummeting under water and you realized you cannot swim which is good because it’s nice to stay there at the bottom where no one could find you and you don’t have to do something you don’t want to do or talk to people and say things you don’t mean but keep saying anyway because that’s what they expect from you?

I can picture a cartoonify version of myself going from frame to frame, a dark cloud following me hanging above my head and once in a while it releases some water and I just sit there with a gloomy face letting the persistent cloud rain on me feeling indifferent being oblivious of the world around because I lost my groove and I cannot find it back and all I can do is walk and walk and walk…


The Good Life

“I have developed an acute sense of dark humour as a defense mechanism. Without it, I would be driven mad and become terminally depressed by the endless encounter with human evil and perversity.”

This morning (what morning is to me) clad in my pyjamas I went to pick bram berries at the bottom of the garden. Reaching the gate that separated my land to the next property I saw that the pile of bricks which I loosely stapled the other day next to a cyclone wire fence had tumbled down and some of them were leaning against the chain link barrier, and I thought: the goats were at it again.

Normally, there was a piece of corrugated metal roofing behind the fence to keep the animals reaching my plants. They tend to eat everything that grows higher than the barricade. That morning the metal plate was nowhere to be seen.

Approaching nearer I saw that there were two elderly gentlemen standing by the gate behind the wires, so I pivoted for so many obvious reasons; one of them is I don’t like morning people… or mornings… or people. But it was too late, they have seen me already.

The conversation went like this:

“Hey, miss… come here!” One of them commanded. I don’t care much about being treated that way but for the sake of peace I walked back and asked:

“What it is?”

“Don’t be so stupid. You did this!” He said pointing at the fallen bricks.

“You have done this on purpose. I’ve seen you do it! Yes I did!” And he begun jumping up and down excitedly.

To his partner he said: “Call the police at this very moment. I am a witness. I will give a signed statement to back up your claim.”

I was flabbergasted (which happens rarely) and I said to the guy: “Why should I or anybody do such nonsense?”

Before the madman could give an answer, his companion sent him to the other side of the property without really saying anything except inclining his head to that direction.    

Then the good guy started straightening the bricks, putting them one by one through the hole in the cyclone wires to my side of the fence, telling me stories about keeping goats may seem romantic but it is a lot of work because the damn animals are very hard to contain. He told me he found two of his chickens between my compost heaps and greenhouse the other day. He didn’t realize they could go over so he put them away he said. I think that is his way of apologizing for what happened and acknowledging his part of the problem.

His psychotic friend came back and helped him erect a new fence to keep away his romantic herd from feasting on my plants without further comments. I said goodbye to them and wish them a wonderful day ahead. Half way through my garden, the flood gate of heaven had opened and let mighty torrents of rain fell over our little corner of paradise. Buckets after buckets spilling over as if there is no tomorrow. I sought refuge in my gazebos.

From a distance, I heard outburst of colourful words, followed by string of profanities, more swearing from both gentlemen then howl of pain; seemed one of them had dropped something on someone or somebody fell on something.

I smiled. Sometimes Karma doesn’t get stuck in the traffic and comes sooner than expected.  


Nerves? What nerves?

What events I get nervous about…

My wedding… let me think… the first was forced so, there were no nerves involved there. I remember looking out the window thinking to myself that I can get out of there, if I want I can just walk out and be gone leaving everything behind. But of course it did not happen that way.  Too much at stake. My father threatened to disown and throw me out if I will not do what they wanted me to do. That marriage lasted for twenty years.

The second one… well… it’s my own choice but not for love. Never for love. I will never marry someone I am in love with (not that the opportunity presented itself already) I find it a very dangerous thing to do. One might say living with somebody one is not in love with = unhappy. Not true. Who says being in love (or loving somebody) is a synonym for happiness? For what I saw/read/heard (listen to most songs) it is mostly the opposite. (Un)luckily, I never had the chance yet to experience the dilemma of choosing for like I said before, I am yet to fall. Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked again. Back to the topic.

My second wedding, I let the groom decide about everything. From food to cake to wine to colour to venue to gown, everything! I thought: okay, I’ve been there done that, it was the first and the only church wedding he was going to have so, I granted him all his wishes. Again, no nerves involved. At least, not from my part.

Exams… I believe that if one listens attentively in class, one doesn’t have to be nervous about exams. Exams are just recollection of things one has already learned. If one had paid attention when teachers were doing what they’re supposed to be doing, when examine time arrived, one bound to remember things especially when there are questions present to nudge ones memory to life. So, just be prepared and tackle it one question at a time. There is no reason to be nervous.

Same with presentation, major or not (I know, I know… some of you will say: easier said than done and speak for yourself but I am speaking for myself and I am also aware that situations vary from person to person. But remember we’re talking about personal experiences here and I am relating mine, not someone else’s) if one is prepared to the outmost of ones capabilities and one is really convinced that there is nothing more one can do; all I can say is: more than your best you cannot possibly offer. So, be calm get out there, believe in yourself and if something goes wrong, just wing it.   Because there will always be a time that something will go wrong, and if you start thinking about it just before the presentation itself, your nerves will be your downfall.

I used to be a part of a theater group before. So, I know what I’m talking about.

Family gatherings are totally different matter. That’s when/where I normally get nervous about (I know for most, it is the opposite; they are family after all) and I need at least three weeks (if not longer) to recuperate afterwards. The reasons why? I don’t know for sure. You know already that I hate noises and crowds, but being in the middle of people who talk next to each other about mundane things which in reality no one is truly interested in but everyone is pretending they are, is too much for me. Why gather when any fool with half sense can clearly see that everyone wishes to be anywhere but there. They can’t even talk straight to each other. Sometimes, animosity is so thick one can cut/slice it with the knife and served it together with hors d’oeuvres. I am nervous attending such events before and after.

For the rest, I’m miss perfectly calm herself. When it comes to preparing for big days that is…



Reply To Daily Prompt: Big Day Ahead