02 Dec
Pelican Cluck Bubble Pop
All those ever considered becoming invisible say “Aye”.
What it is that it is, to be so, is what I am right now. Invisibubble. Reminds me of Hubba Bubba chewing gum, classic strawberry flavour. Or Grape. I once had an Apple Cider flavour which I didn’t want to consume because it tasted so good. So I kept it for years, until it was stale and rock hard, “saving it”. Eventually I flung it at a pelican and didn’t see the bird move again. Ungraceful savages. Granted, I did hit it in the head with an audible “cluck”. Whoever had the idea to drag the remnants of a penguins geriatric oil rag and couple it with a cellulite filled plastic bag? Called it a Pelican. O.o Blegh.
Which brings me full circle to “The Family”. AHOY! We have postponed travels to justify leeching off the government, to the government. Also, because we said we’d be in Broken Hill for Christmas. Notably, we aren’t there yet, because we’re spending time with The Family. Nathan’s Mother loves pelicans. She clucks at them more than she clucks at Blair. The maternal cluck. Never has another persons attempt of genuine empathy made me want to physically vomit, as much as The Mother’s Cluck. (There is a previous entry on this from some time ago.. but I’m too damn lazy to link it here.)
I have some Baileys and Bailey’s Cabernet out there.. wonder if 4pm is too early to start on it.. I mean, it IS a Sunday. No one is allowed alcohol except The Matriarch. She has yet to arrive. (That being Blair’s Great British Grandmother-mightier-than-thou) She audibly complains that she hasn’t cuddled the baby yet. You can’t even hold your glass up and you want to cuddle the what? Ho ho ho… no. Jumping Jahoovers! TO THE INVISIBUBBLE!
SWOOSH!
COMMENCE COUNT DOWN SEQUENCE! fivefourthreetwooneINVISABLE.
“Of COURSE she can have Ice Cream dear.. Salty? Well she isn’t here now is she.. when she gets back we’ll just have to let the ignoramous know how good it is for five month old babies.. yes we will.. we will.. Darling will you stop fondling the baby and let us crowd around closer? Thats the way, completely overwhelm her, thats how they break their spirit in the military.”
Of course the invisibubble is not of my making. It is my metaphorical nook when I arrive here. They shove me in when I arrive. It’s easier for them to cope that way. But it’s difficult to ignore someone in the midst of being castrated for harming my child. Tis a fragile thing.. this bubble. It does not hold me well.
Fuckers.
I made use of the vocabulary today.. ‘Complacent.’ Which is rather apt.. considering.
-Salty Pea
Filed Under: General
11 Jul
Blog
This is a blog for Mat.
Helloes
I am a bubble.. Goodbyeeeeeeeee
-Salty Pea
Filed Under: General
19 Jun
Trickle Ticking Virginia’s Secret.
They forcast sleet. In your fantastical land where a Swiss Watch are smelt from honey butter metal keeps time no better than my humble sand filled hour-glass. I watch you trickle, ticking by. Tocking, clocking, hair red-streaked sun shattered squished epithelial metropolism. Melted and re-smelted. I wonder what the Angel of Death would return as? Hari Krishna. Maybe a sloth, I have much pondering to do.
I bought the mini series “Angels In America” on dvd. Set in the mid 80’s it is primarily strung together with a bare storyline like an amature porn of monologues overfilled with philosophy. I like it. It also has a hot effeminate african-american homosexual character, with glitter. It’s also ironically, founded on some of my current curiosities; Philosophy in general, Mormons and angel wings from the Victoria’s Secret lingerie catalogue. Also, there are angels with eight vaginas who copulate all day. (Hentai, anyone?) In any sense, the abrupt characters are worth the watching, and the profanities spewing from Al Pacino are juxtaposedly amusing and confronting. I laugh. I think it’s healthy, isn’t it?
I’ve been wondering too, why my butt is always cold. I once believed it was insulation. But I now wonder, walrus-i have phenomenal levels of fat insulation.. as do whales.. and whales are warm blooded. If I were to pet a walrus, would they be cold to touch? Are their butts cold, too? Perhaps it’s poor circulation. Maybe if I smack it…. do walrus-i smack themselves? I think were I to try it, coupled with laughing at swearing homosexuals orgasming with angels, I’d soon be committed. Ho-ho Hee-hee……I think it best remain cold and insulated. Yes.
-Salty Pea
Filed Under: Religion, Philosophy, personal, Rant, Poetry
20 May
Shakespeare Hates Your Emo Poems
Yes, yes he does.
“Are you emo? Hang with us here!” I was wondering if that was supposed to be figurative, or a literal “hang” as to dangle from one’s neck until dead. When I saw this link (whilst feeding my ebay addiction) Am I Emo? Why the hell not, ‘click’. The link didn’t seem to work and I pout like an anime lolita for all of half a second. Considering that emo try hards refuse to be “labelled” as emo and would probably unleash their well manicured, pointy fingernails if you tacked on the “try hard” within audible range. I wasn’t surprised that no-one had signed up to join and the address had most likely shuffled off this mortal coil in despair. The lesson? Dont rely on emo’s. Either that or, it actually was ment to be taken literally.
Emo reminds me of Elmo and that just screws up the entire image of try hard stripey tight wearing over accessorised teenies transported from the eighties. When Richard Hunt presented Elmo for the first time, the producers agreed that the character laughed too much. (Who’s laughing now hu? With the multi million dollars in mechadise sales?) Elmo is way too over stimulating. I wouldn’t be surprised if kids haven’t noticed he has a personality. They sit there stunned into a stupor we interperate as them actually enjoying all that giggling. Actually, its sort of provocative and sexually ambiguous now that I think about it. Who loves his crayon more than Elmo?
Other underthought and similar advertisiments on the internet are those for IMVU. “Chat in 3D! Be a STAR!” Isn’t the real world already in 3D, and free? I admit, I signed up, provoked by the allure of fame, you know. Someone might notice Emo me and I can pretend that they love and want to save me and although secretly flattered and smitten, I’ll abuse them as though I don’t care and would rather hang by the neck until dead. Because for Emo’s that’s some appealing and erotic fantasy.. mmm… hanging.. drool. Like all role play games and online anything, you get the opportunity to be something you’re not, do things you wouldn’t normally and can’t usually get away with, such as being a troll and killing the beautiful people, rofl. Not surprisingly, all eight of the character images are attractive and unattainably thin 15 year old teenies, oh and one is a leprosy white zombie goth. Which makes me wonder if every single person on there is actually a fat old guy from Brazil. Possibly living in the same apartment block next door to eachother. I endeavored to be the most screwed up gorgous looking emo bitch I could. TAKE THAT psudo-emo whores! Muar ha!
Speaking of communal living. I’ve been catching up with an old friend, Amanda. It’s been some years but not much has changed. Nathan says since we started catching up again I’m notably “crude and raunchy”. I think it’s for the best, ha!
-Salty Pea
Filed Under: personal, Blah, Rant, random, General
08 May
Kenzie and Life With Babies
When you have a baby and they say “Don’t expect to sleep again.” They’re wrong. Expect to sleep, lightly, awaking at every infinitesimal sound and leaping out of bed to check the baby with the attempted stealth of a drunk ninja. Expect if you co-sleep, to be whacked in the chest, head, boob and face at random intervals by the sleeping babe. Expect also in this scenario, to forfeit the entire queensize bed and retreat to a poor excuse, slither of matress edge in effort to escape the whacking. Expect a sore neck as your head lulls intermittently during Mornings With Kerrie Ann, Songs of Praise and song clips on RAGE still under the late night lenient censor. (Yay for softcore porn.) Expect the eerie Harry Potter dream with zombies and nudity to merge rather convincingly with conscious land. Just don’t expect to be awake, for anything.
Want a date with the first dog? No worries: Kenzie, the competition.
-Salty Pea
