My Delirium

I come to you today with nothing in mind (Like that’s different from any other time you say and I say SHUT UP).  This blog post is more of a experiment of mine to see what might happen if I were to approach my blog without any preperation or previously thought out idea of what I might like to talk about.  So here we are. 
 
Welcome.
 
 
Yesterday was Family Day.  The family and I went to Buffalo.  We went shopping which is something I kind of detest unless I find myself on that rare occurence of wanting to actually go shopping.  It happens one to two times a year.  I’m more of a window shopper.  Wow, this is going well.
 
Ok.  Got it.  Off to the right of me I can see the iron and ironing board and this has upped by blood pressure quite noticeably.  Why do people iron their clothes and THEN hang them up or put them away in their dressers.  What is the point?  When you go to retreive the clothes over the next few weeks you’re likely to just iron it again so why the fudgecicle popsicles (mmmm) do people iron them the first time.  I’m pretty sure this chore can be traced back to the late 1920s and early 1930s around the time of the Great Depression.  Men had no work and were stuck home all day which was something that they weren’t used to, I mean c’mon that’s the woman’s job.  Sure there was that brief honeymoon stage of ‘oh being home all day with the person I love is great and as long as we are together things will be ok’.  But that mentality is quickly shot, and tensions start to thicken.  The men are getting suffocated by their wife’s presence and women are getting anxious cause with their boo at home all day they be getting no satisfaction from the milk man.  All around things are not well.  At this point the man is looking for anything that will keep the old ball and chain busy for a little while to keep his sanity, the woman is looking for some way to burn off some serious steam.  STEAM!  presto.  By mutual agreement the stupid and pointless habit of ironing clothes and then putting them away is born. 
 
Now I say years have passed and why are people not shedding this horrible reminder of the bad times.  I mean seriously, with the advances of technology, the need for the milkman have been squandered and replaced by battery powered toys available worldwide.  In conclusion, invest in some rechargeable batteries and just hang up your clothes straight from the dryer.  Then if they still need to be ironed.  Iron them one time and one time only, right before you are about to wear them.
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My Delirium

Never Again

I’ve had this piece of paper on my desk for a few weeks now and every
time I’ve gone to throw it out I have stopped myself.  For one reason
and one reason only.  I wanted to include it in a blog post before I
banished its very existence and sent it to the slaughterhouse to be
recycled and never seen again.  Now to get to school everyday the first
half of my route usually consists of walking through the heart of the
business sector.  This particular day there were 2 girls standing at
one of the intersections handing out flyers and curiousity got the
better of me because it was frakin’ cold and I wondered what was so
good that the flyer girls were remaining steadfast at their post. 
Here’s what it said:

RECESSION PROOF YOUR SELF – MASSAGERING !  !
FRESH MEAT OFF THE BOAT, BEIJING MASSAGERING
CHINESE COLLEGE EDUCATED LADIES – NO SLIME
TAKE THE TIME TO THINK ABOUT SITUATIONS WHILE
LYING DOWN ON A RELAXING MASSAGE TABLE.
NORMAL MASSAGE ONLY – NO DIRTY SEXUAL SERVICES
SHOWER OR SITE…LAST CALL: 9:30 PM ON SCHOOL NIGHTS
VERY CLEAN, PROFESSIONALLY POLITE
ADULTS NOW WILL GET THE STUDENTS AND SENIORS
DISCOUNT TOO! HALF HOUR REJUVENATION SESSION-
        ONLY $ 39.99 GOOD OLD FASHIONED STYLE
(ADDRESS
HERE, *sidenote the street name was misspelled, something that can
happen to the best of us however when the street is called Yonge St
it’s kind of a biggie)
DOORS ARE ALWAYS OPEN FOR YOU, JUST WALK IN
FOR A WORKING CLASS MASSAGE – (PHONE#)
NO CHEATING…..AND….NO SHORT CUTS
SOFT, MEDIUM, HARD!, or PUNISHMENT STYLE MASSAGE

Okay
so there are many, MANY, awesome parts in this flyer.  Some of the
obvious include "massagering" (it’s totally a verb, just like walkering
and eatering), others are "no slime" (which just made me think oh Uh Oh
and got me all nostalgic, that was a great show eh?  I always wanted to
be on that show) and "no dirty sexual services" and as the flyer is all
in capitals that just makes it seem like they are extra shouting that
part.  Lastly, "punishment style massage".  Oh my.  I think my safe
word would be ‘PleaseStop’.  Simple, rational and polite.  But my
favourite thing, above all is when it says "last call: 9:30 on school
nights".  Now either the fresh meat off the boat chinese college
educated are continuing their education here, in which case bless their
little massagering hearts.  Or they really are as fresh as their ad
claims and are still mentally in school mode, as they haven’t made
the transition to business days.

This has nothing to do with the ad but tonight I saw The Uninvited. 
I’d seen the trailer a few times and it didn’t look Ah-Mazing but it
didn’t look all that bad.  It was bad.  Very, very, very bad.  And not
in a good, punishment style massage type of way.  It was just pure
punishment.  And I was never informed that i would need a safe word so
I couldn’t stop it.  On the plus side the acting was alright and the
scenery was nice.  But that’s the point right there, in a horror movie
I shouldn’t have the time to bask and take in the beautiful scenery, I
should be trying to keep my eyes open and not piss my pants.  Or more
realistically I should be giggling and laughing my ass off, as that’s
my reflexive reaction to horror films I like. *shrugs* Some people
scream, I laugh.  We all have our ways.

Never Again

Good Morning, Baby

While in India I was lucky enough to visit Manali (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manali,_Himachal_Pradesh) for two whole days.  While there were many awesome things about Manali, more specifically I would like to discuss our sleeping arrangements.  We stayed at a hotel called The Honeymoon Suites.  I shared a room with my mom and younger brother.  Now mamma didn’t raise no fool, I understand what the accustomed ritual was for people staying in this particular establishment but I tried to keep my mind occupied with other thoughts.  However when we walked into the room my inner Nancy Drew detective skills peaked and these facts were burned into my mind, eyes and soul.  Firstly, the retro shag carpeting.  Secondly, the lone used candle with matchbox and plug in air freshener by the bed.  Thirdly, and admittedly the most damaging, the mirror above the bed.  Fourthly, the mirror ABOVE the bed.
 
Ew.
 
Now we were all tired and in need of a good sleep so I did what anyone would do, sent up a lil prayer to God asking her to protect me.  Re-checked the lock on my chastity belt (air tight, baby!).  Tried as hard as I could to push the visual of those dateline investigative reports of where they take a black light to hotel bed sheets and all the baby making jizz becomes wonderfully visible.  Tres CSI. 
 
Anyways that was a memorable night to say the least and one that I am thankful to have survived as still a Ms.
Good Morning, Baby

The End’s Not Near

Just a heads up.  This summer I was lucky enough to meet up with with all the person that read this blog in the past.  The person convinced me to restart my blog and after weeks of consideration I’ve decided…sure.
 
I’m thinking the first few will be about my summer trip to India.  Stay tuned.  Or don’t.  You are behind the driver’s wheel in the vehicle that is your life.  Own it. 
The End’s Not Near