Photo meme

I was tagged for another meme by the deliciously Sassy Miss P.  While I don’t usually do memes, I was intrigued by this one.  Besides, I’m hoping I can ingratiate myself to her and make her forget what other things she’s been demanding of me.*

So – – –

What you have to do:

1. Access the folder / location on your hard drive where you store your photos.
2. Go to the 6th folder, and pick out the 6th picture in that folder.
3. Now post it on your blog with an explanation of the story behind it.
4. Finally tag 6 other people to do the same.**

SC and DF

Well, to answer the 3rd part of this meme, it’s pretty obvious what’s going on.  This is drunken debauchery at a local bar.  No, it’s not the best picture I took that night.  It just happened to be the one that was sixth in the folder.  But anyway – –  A few of my friends and I get together weekly to drink beer, commiserate about life, and just act a little silly (not that alcohol is a prerequisite for the latter).  This weekly fun has been the source of a post and may in the future be fodder for more.  There are a core group of us, typically four, with a few who’re becoming more regular participants.  Others have floated in and out (usually out, after seeing our antics).  Just as Miss P did, i’m adding another from the series, showing the early damage for the four of us…with more beers left to be drunk(en) that evening…

Rachal

Yes, the photo tag is correct.  That’s how she spells her name.  A side effect (benefit?) of our weekly outings is that we get to know the different servers quite well – – Erica (yum!), Jared, Rachal (more yum!), Rocky, Barry, Corey to name but a few… Now, it’s not quite like the TV show “Cheers” where the entire place hollers out our name when we come in (“Norm!”), but it does feel good to be recognized.***

And, just as Saucy Miss P would have declined to participate if the meme demanded the fifth folder, I would have declined if it involved my third folder [wicked grin].

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

*  And, yes Miss P, I know this pitiful attempt to distract your attention from those has about a zero chance of working.

**  While I will do the occasional meme, I demure from tagging others to do so.  Not to say you can’t or shouldn’t.  If this intrigued you, by all means join in!  It’s good for a quick post idea and, in this case, quite fun.  Randomness intrigues me…

***…as the drunken, well-tipping customers that we are…

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Song Lyric Thursday

I’ve not played along with Song Lyric Thursdays, though have enjoyed reading such on, for example, Rob’s and Uncle Keith’s blogs.  Neither do I automatically do all memes or tags, though will get tickled by the occasional one that I will play along. 

But, after a recent night out and given the season and all, I feel compelled to join in for this Song Lyric Thursday.

Invited by my good theater friend, DK, to another benefit, I got to see the Rubi Girls again.  Having seen them at Masquerage, I was expecting a similar show.  What I didn’t know was that, because of all the other stuff going on, they had to severely limit the time and content of the show at Masquerage. 

This. Was. A. Hoot.

They performed for almost 3 hours straight.  They don’t just lip-synch to women’s songs, but rather play act as well.  Results are intended to be, and are, great fun.  One song in particular had tears of laughter rolling down my face.

So, in honor of the holiday season, may I present my first offering to Song Lyric Thursday.  The song this is satirizing is titled Santa Baby and has been sung seductively by the likes of Marilyn Monroe, Madonna, and the Pussycat Dolls.  Someone decided it was time to do a parody.  It is not remotely politically correct on numerous levels, but that was intended as part of this mockery, so consider that before feeling offended  – – –

Santa’s Baby

(Jackie Beat)

 

Santa’s baby, is growing here inside of me now.
Like wow!
I’m gonna be the mother of, Santa’s baby.
He put it in me Christmas Eve night!

Santa’s baby, is growing here inside of my gut.
This slut.
Got drunk and now she’s pregnant with, Santa’s baby.
A bastard child, but at least it’s white!

“What? We can’t say that? Oh, well, we’ll cut it out!”

Oh, when I heard that: “Ho, ho, ho!”.
I spread my legs beneath the mistletoe.
Then, Santa had his way with me.
Even though I was screaming: “No, no no!”.

Hey, wait a minute.
Santa raped me!
He took advantage of a young girl!
The world, has got to know the ugly truth.
How, Santa raped me, even though I tried to put up a fight.

“And, don’t you for second say I was asking for it, because I was wearing a mini-skirt and a tube top!”

Santa’s baby, will make it hard to ever erase.
That face, all fat and jolly, sweatin’ on me!
Santa’s baby is gonna wreck my life at my thighs!
Too late.

Santa’s baby, is growing like a cancer. I fear, right here!
It’s gonna look just like him.
Somebody take me. And get this baby outta my sight!

“Do you have 50 bucks I could borrow? No?”

I got excited, I couldn’t wait.
The moment my monthly curse was late.
Now, it’s a gift I’ll never regret.
It’s worse than late fruit cake, ’cause it’s date rape!

Santa’s baby, he came down the chimney.
Then, came in me.
I’d make a lousy single mom, so.
Santa’s baby, is gonna get aborted tonight!
But, thanks to the conservative right.
I’ve got to say I was raped that night.

Thank you!

 

 

 

 

Black and White

As promised, i’ve pictures of my costume and face paint from Masquerage 2008.  I’ve also included another couple pictures just for fun.  My very fun date, DK, is also included.  As the evening wore on, the makeup wore off.  But, with enough libation, we didn’t give a rat’s ass.

he/she was taller than me

i look like a demented Joker

      

random people, random colors

          

l.e.d.s in the hair

 

a studded banana hammock?

 

big bird on drugs?

More?

Crissum

…and that’s the word of the day.

GnuKid spent one whole semester at university as a biology major. But I never ran into this one… I guess if I’d actually made it to a zoology class, I may have learned this word.

Yep, crissum is a zoological term and it is defined as the feathers or area surrounding a bird’s cloacal opening.

We’ll get back to “crissum” in a moment.

Guess we have two words of the day as I had to look up the definition of “cloacal”. The easy definition is that it is the bird’s hoo-hoo. But that’s too simplistic… be glad you’re not a bird. The biology of a bird is such that – brace yourself – its genital AND intestinal AND urinary tracts all converge and come out of… or into as the case may be… one opening—the cloaca.

If I may editorialize at this point… Ewww.

Reminds me of the joke about the design of women – – –

A bunch of engineers are sitting around at a party, discussing the nature of the God, and who designed women.

The mechanical engineer states that God must also be a mechanical engineer because “if you look at all the pulleys and levers that drive the body, how the tendons and muscles and bones all work together, well, it’s just amazing.”

The chemical engineer says that no, God has to be a chemical engineer because “if you look at all the chemical processes that drive the body, how the hormones and the brain and the glands and everything else all interact, well, it’s just astounding.”

The electrical engineer says that no, God has to be an electrical engineer because “if you look at the circuitry of the body, how the thousands upon millions of nerve cells transmit signals from one part to another, well, it boggles the mind.”

The civil engineer speaks up last of all and says, no, God is definitely a civil engineer, because “only a civil engineer would run a sewer next to a playground. “

[pa-dum-dump]

But anyway…

What caught my eye about ‘crissum’ is the derivation. From the Latin, crissare, which means—

…to move the buttocks during intercourse…

Hmmm… Ummm… The ancient Romans needed a name for that? Okay.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll just sit here and wallow in some great mental imagery of feminine crissare until it’s time to write another post…

Blog Counseling

I have lots on my mind.

Sure, the laughter, humor, wry observation. But also some other stuff, too.

Angst. Fears. Worries. Issues.

And here in the blog world I have an excellent venue to vent those same things. So why do I hesitate? Why do I fuss about whether to go “public” or not? I’m sure there are many of you out there that have wrestled with this same question.

The case for staying “private”, meaning I share only with myself—

— Private allows you to say any damn thing you want… IF your medium of choice is secure (e.g., 128-bit encrypted and password locked files)

— I can fully vent what’s on my mind… in my gut… without fear of rejection or derision

The downside to “private”—

— The only feedback mechanism is myself… but, since I’m already jaded and biased by being in those life situations which give rise the angst, fears, issues, et al, of what value is my own feedback on my own thoughts? Other than time (and, to a major extent, attitude), there is no validation process. Nor is there a refutation process. Both processes are needed. I need feedback of whether I’m a raving lunatic who’s going off into space or whether I’m just a tortured soul who’s really heading in ‘more or less’ the right direction, but need help getting there.

The case for going “public”—

— Public allows that external validation or refutation.

— Public allows me to access insights and opinions (yours) that would otherwise be unavailable to me. I’m guessing many of those, whether I want to hear them or not, would be of value to my resolution process.

The case against going “public”—

— Other than raw numbers of comments, there is no assurance of the validity of those commenting on you. Yes, I would tend to believe 10 people all agreeing on a certain thing; but tend to discount a split vote… even 70/30.

— People I don’t want to know my secrets could find this site. I do realize I’ve put enough clues out there that anyone who knows me can determine who GnuKid really is. And ‘Family Secrets’ are aired. I’ve not said anything contentious… yet. But if ‘discovery’ of the GnuKid happens, I face the wrath of family. [ed. Note: And is it ‘bad’ that I can share things with the blog, yet not with family members who should have my full confidence?… {heavy sigh}]

— And, a true unknown, would I end up losing my internet friendships/readership because I’d gone ‘emo twit boy’ on them and scared them away from visiting my blog? While a blog should be for the writer’s benefit, let’s be honest… we need to feel the love from others.

Yes, there are mid-ground options… seeing a ‘real’ counselor for example. But for the money paid to access those ‘professionals’ (said tongue-in-cheek, having run into a few who weren’t that capable) does not always justify the results achieved. Especially when it seems the only service offered by some of them is the trite phrase, “…and how do you feel about that?” Hell, any of you would gladly do that in the comments block for free.

So, I’m getting to the point where my hesitation needs to be beaten senseless; the need to bare my soul exceeding the need to remain private; and to rely on my nascent internet friendships to help me guide myself to a happier life.

…and off we go… I’ll see how brave I am in the future… or how much Scotch I’ve downed… as to opening up here…