30 June 2013
680
R. Linda:
With the smoke from the fires coupled with the intense western heat wave, our delicate Scottish Weasil decided to get out of Dodge. Yes, he did. So off he went to the south of Ireland, to Dingle to be exact.
If you are familiar with Dingle, you'd know there are a few islands off the picturesque coast, that if one has a boat, one can sail out to any one of them and spend a day picnicking, or bird watching or whatever pleases one's fancy. Well, that's what Weasil decided to do. He took himself down to the peninsula and by thunder, he ran into an old girlfriend! Yes, he did and never one to not reminisce over past adventures he invited her and her boyfriend (yes there was a boyfriend) to an eating establishment where they spent most of the afternoon (and a lot of money) making plans for the next day to go crabbing.
Yes, it was stated that the boyfriend of the ex-girlfriend, knew of an uninhabited (and small) island where they could spend the day crabbing, and then as the sun set they could eat the crabs and drink some more wine. Wine being the key here, they'd take some brews and a few bottles of vino and as the urge took them, they pop a can or cork and voila! instant refreshment for a day of digging or trolling, whatever one does to catch crabs. For some reason, I picture Weasil running after the poor things up and down the beach with a stick. And I was almost right, it wasn't a stick it was a Sharpie. But I digress, more on THAT later.
So here be where it gets a little scary if not a whole lot of sketchy. The boyfriend be a bit of a nature boy, and the girlfriend (because the boyfriend be that way) has adopted the code as well . . . these two like to shed their clothing and go about in the all-together, in order to get the full-bodied suntan! I tell ya. Now Weasil, not being shy himself (you remember the JW's at me door and the flashing them wearing me wife's bathrobe?), decided THAT was a great idea. They were far enough from shore they wouldn't be seen really and why not? And as the Weasil explained, "Me an da boyfriendie wuz da epitome a socialist beefcake on da beach." I betcha! Then it got stupid with the reference to DINGLE and I'll let your imagination take you THERE if you dare.
The two of them were more into what the other had or lacked, which made me think the lone female on the island was totally unexciting. They were shouting at each other over the roar of the surf, such idiot phrases as, "I got your peninsula right here, babe," and "Too much of a good thing can be wonderful," (that said to a gesture to his you know what), and not to be outdone the other one responded, "What beautiful jewels are gracing the beach!" YUP, it went that way most of the afternoon, the sun had them, the wind had them, and the wine had them . . . at least that was the excuse.
Well, after a day of crabbing, and fishing, our naked trio decided to make a fire and "go piggy" (that means lighting a fire with a magnifying glass - SIGH). And so, this project took a good long time, especially since the sun was drifting down toward the horizon and the sunbeams were getting weak. None of them had thought to bring matches, BUT one of them had a magnifying glass which boggles the intelligent mind as to WHY. But one doesn't ask, because when it comes to Weasil and friends, one won't like the answer.
Somehow, they got the fire going as one of them, probably the ex-girlfriend was complaining things would have gone faster if they had some coconut husks (and here I was thinking matches). I'd like to know where in Dingle one finds coconuts husks! That wasn't the only strange going on, the boyfriend (being the self-made naturalist he touted himself to be) had brought Sharpie pens so that as they caught the crabs, they could mark the shells and the logic to this was, to eat the first ones caught so they wouldn't go bad (it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that what you caught that day, a few hours before, wouldn't be any fresher than the last crab you caught just a few minutes ago. I tell ya, listening to this was enough for me to want to tear me hair out and run screaming from the house).
But this dumb method of illogical reasoning didn't work the way it was supposed to. Because the ex-girlfriend, instead of numbering her crab's shells, wrote a name for each. There was Sally Crab, Annie Crab, Donnie Crab, and me personal fav, WILSON and on it went in no particular alphabetical order. But maybe Weasil took the crab cake when he numbered ALL his crabs with a 1. And because he got Weasil lazy, he didn't put them all in a bucket so there are (he says) a lot of crabs wandering the island with the number 1 on their backs. He said as it was, he couldn't tell them apart. ???????? Is it me or is there something very wrong with this picture?
The boyfriend was a little ticked at this . . . well wouldn't you be? This started a bit of trash-talking back and forth until Weasil, acting the only one with half a brain said, "It don't matter, da fire iz up, let's crack sum shells and git on wit it!" Getting on with it proved a bit hairy as Weasil found himself literally occasioning blood in the water! Yup, he blindly put his hand in one of the crab buckets without looking and got himself hooked by angry crab bodies who, as he thought, could "smell da fire."
Right, they could! Ugh.
The ex-girlfriend had a thought, she was wondering if PETA would cite the three of them for psychological damage done to all those numbered crabs sporting the same number that were running around loose. Wouldn't that confuse them? UH HUH. In me opinion it was time to vote HER off the island.
While the crabs were either being boiled or in a fire pit cooking, the three were lying on the sand enjoying the last rays of the sun, sipping wine and watching the waves break on the shore and something else caught their attention. Nothing was said at first, because no one wanted to be the first to say anything, because that person thought they were the only one experiencing the odd sensation or seeing what they thought they were seeing, but weren't really sure they were.
Do you know what sand fleas are? OH YEAH, also called sand flies, these critters love to suck blood and leave large patches of redness where they have fed. Well, guess what islanders, YUP you guessed it, all three were being bitten and sand fleas have no preference where they bite, but moist places are the best and YES you guessed where I be telling you because as Weasil said, he thought he felt itchy on his privates and then saw things in his pubic hair. I know this is gross, but let this be a lesson to any other naked survivalists out there that think this island thing a good time, it comes with its downside it does. Not only THAT but all three of them had got a rather bad wind and sunburn. Yes, they did. No one bargained for that part of the fun. Nope, nope, noppers as the Weasil would say.
Well, I don't know how the crab bake was in anyway enjoyable, because all three noticed the others were starting to squirm (and see things jumping about their lower bodies), and in a group exodus they (all three) jumped into the surf as if that would rid them of their invaders. By the time they got out of the water, they were shivering with cold. Not caring if dinner was on the crispy side, they got dressed (probably the first intelligent thing they did all day!) and by the time they got back to the fire, the crabs were crispy critters and not edible. What a waste of crabmanity!
Of course, there was a "discussion" on this of who should have stayed behind to watch dinner, of who had more sand fleas than the other person, and whose wiseacre idea it was to go around in the nude in the first place, AND who's bright idea it was to do this in the second place when there was a load of eating establishments in Dingle where they could have feasted on fresh crab that somebody else caught! I tell ya, what dolts.
Dinner burnt, and the sun was almost gone they put out the fire, got their things and sailed back to shore, not talking to each other. Nope, not a word. Weasil couldn't talk for the other two, but he took himself to a hotel and then had the fun time of finding a room nowhere. It was the season and tourists were everywhere and there he was, "sunnyburnt, in needies of a shower, and a good meal!" And nothing available. Someone took pity on the boyo and recommended a B and B about 40 Kilometres out of town. There he took himself, only to find the last room available was no bigger than a jail cell, the shower had nothing but cold water and dinner was over.
In the course of a sleepless night, the boyo got up to a healthy farm breakfast, a recharged mobile phone, and booked a flight from Shannon to Bristol, rented a car at airport once on British soil, and drove south to Glastonbury.
Since his "holiday" was turning out to be the holiday from hell, the next best thing was to avail himself of Glastonbury and the Glastonbury festival. Thanks to his wealthy father, a front-row view of the Rolling Stones belting out their hits was all his. This be all fine and good and would have been something to write home and brag about, but no, Weas took it one step further. His dad lives in Glastonbury and being "an old hippy" (those are the Weasil's words, not mine) the "old man" (also Weasil's words) goes to the age-old festival every year to "get down." Having seen pictures of his "old man" I somehow can't imagine that. It's almost obscene.
Now I have heard about Weasil's father, and I would not describe the man in any of those words. Okay, granted he has long hair he wears tied back in a ponytail or flowing as the mood hits him, but he be an intellectual who is in the publishing business in London. Or he was, not sure if he be retired but anyway, he has a rather large home that backs up to Glastonbury Abbey and if you know the area, you know how exclusive THAT is. Weasil would have you believe the "old man" lives in a tent smoking weed all day. I tell ya!
Now Weasil was invited to stay and wait out the fires and heat dying down in Steamboat, Colorado. But no, the Weasil who we know just by the fact he spends as little time with his wife and kiddos, was not about to spend time with the "old hippy." He took himself to the festival avoiding the man that provided the fantastic perk of seeing the Stones up close and personal, but he did not factor into account that the "old hippy" would be standing right next to him. Think about it, WHY would the man get Weasil the greatest view in the world and not himself too? I think the surf, sun and sand fleas had got the best of our Weasil.
Imagine his surprise as the Stones came rocking out with Jumpin' Jack Flash, to find his very own father, that old hippy, standing next to him! How embarrassing for the young Weasil to be seen with his FATHER! Well, he made the best of it he did, he rocked out himself and forgot all about the old man, yes he did. Mick even nodded at the old hippy something he didn't do with the young whippersnapper, WHICH was not lost to our Weasil (who mindlessly let "WTF" fly out of his astounded cake hole). I said, "HOW did THAT feel?" Yup, must have stung, but I be sure Jagger has no clue who Weasil is, but probably does know who daddy is. Ye-ah Mick!
I be more than convinced the Weasil has no scruples, is spoilt, is brain impaired when it suits him, suffers from an overconsumption of sugar and caffeine, and is generally irresponsible. He had the nerve to complain he spent the concert with "the old timer." And in his words, he "couldn't git no satisfaction!"
I be sorry but I couldn't help meself, I said, "So how does it feel to be dissed by Jagger and your father, the old timer, gets a nod and YOU somehow DON'T?"
The Weas sighed heavily and said in his Weasil philosophical voice, "Paint it black Gabbie, jus paint it black."
YUP.
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
With the smoke from the fires coupled with the intense western heat wave, our delicate Scottish Weasil decided to get out of Dodge. Yes, he did. So off he went to the south of Ireland, to Dingle to be exact.
If you are familiar with Dingle, you'd know there are a few islands off the picturesque coast, that if one has a boat, one can sail out to any one of them and spend a day picnicking, or bird watching or whatever pleases one's fancy. Well, that's what Weasil decided to do. He took himself down to the peninsula and by thunder, he ran into an old girlfriend! Yes, he did and never one to not reminisce over past adventures he invited her and her boyfriend (yes there was a boyfriend) to an eating establishment where they spent most of the afternoon (and a lot of money) making plans for the next day to go crabbing.
Yes, it was stated that the boyfriend of the ex-girlfriend, knew of an uninhabited (and small) island where they could spend the day crabbing, and then as the sun set they could eat the crabs and drink some more wine. Wine being the key here, they'd take some brews and a few bottles of vino and as the urge took them, they pop a can or cork and voila! instant refreshment for a day of digging or trolling, whatever one does to catch crabs. For some reason, I picture Weasil running after the poor things up and down the beach with a stick. And I was almost right, it wasn't a stick it was a Sharpie. But I digress, more on THAT later.
So here be where it gets a little scary if not a whole lot of sketchy. The boyfriend be a bit of a nature boy, and the girlfriend (because the boyfriend be that way) has adopted the code as well . . . these two like to shed their clothing and go about in the all-together, in order to get the full-bodied suntan! I tell ya. Now Weasil, not being shy himself (you remember the JW's at me door and the flashing them wearing me wife's bathrobe?), decided THAT was a great idea. They were far enough from shore they wouldn't be seen really and why not? And as the Weasil explained, "Me an da boyfriendie wuz da epitome a socialist beefcake on da beach." I betcha! Then it got stupid with the reference to DINGLE and I'll let your imagination take you THERE if you dare.
The two of them were more into what the other had or lacked, which made me think the lone female on the island was totally unexciting. They were shouting at each other over the roar of the surf, such idiot phrases as, "I got your peninsula right here, babe," and "Too much of a good thing can be wonderful," (that said to a gesture to his you know what), and not to be outdone the other one responded, "What beautiful jewels are gracing the beach!" YUP, it went that way most of the afternoon, the sun had them, the wind had them, and the wine had them . . . at least that was the excuse.
Well, after a day of crabbing, and fishing, our naked trio decided to make a fire and "go piggy" (that means lighting a fire with a magnifying glass - SIGH). And so, this project took a good long time, especially since the sun was drifting down toward the horizon and the sunbeams were getting weak. None of them had thought to bring matches, BUT one of them had a magnifying glass which boggles the intelligent mind as to WHY. But one doesn't ask, because when it comes to Weasil and friends, one won't like the answer.
Somehow, they got the fire going as one of them, probably the ex-girlfriend was complaining things would have gone faster if they had some coconut husks (and here I was thinking matches). I'd like to know where in Dingle one finds coconuts husks! That wasn't the only strange going on, the boyfriend (being the self-made naturalist he touted himself to be) had brought Sharpie pens so that as they caught the crabs, they could mark the shells and the logic to this was, to eat the first ones caught so they wouldn't go bad (it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that what you caught that day, a few hours before, wouldn't be any fresher than the last crab you caught just a few minutes ago. I tell ya, listening to this was enough for me to want to tear me hair out and run screaming from the house).
But this dumb method of illogical reasoning didn't work the way it was supposed to. Because the ex-girlfriend, instead of numbering her crab's shells, wrote a name for each. There was Sally Crab, Annie Crab, Donnie Crab, and me personal fav, WILSON and on it went in no particular alphabetical order. But maybe Weasil took the crab cake when he numbered ALL his crabs with a 1. And because he got Weasil lazy, he didn't put them all in a bucket so there are (he says) a lot of crabs wandering the island with the number 1 on their backs. He said as it was, he couldn't tell them apart. ???????? Is it me or is there something very wrong with this picture?
The boyfriend was a little ticked at this . . . well wouldn't you be? This started a bit of trash-talking back and forth until Weasil, acting the only one with half a brain said, "It don't matter, da fire iz up, let's crack sum shells and git on wit it!" Getting on with it proved a bit hairy as Weasil found himself literally occasioning blood in the water! Yup, he blindly put his hand in one of the crab buckets without looking and got himself hooked by angry crab bodies who, as he thought, could "smell da fire."
Right, they could! Ugh.
The ex-girlfriend had a thought, she was wondering if PETA would cite the three of them for psychological damage done to all those numbered crabs sporting the same number that were running around loose. Wouldn't that confuse them? UH HUH. In me opinion it was time to vote HER off the island.
While the crabs were either being boiled or in a fire pit cooking, the three were lying on the sand enjoying the last rays of the sun, sipping wine and watching the waves break on the shore and something else caught their attention. Nothing was said at first, because no one wanted to be the first to say anything, because that person thought they were the only one experiencing the odd sensation or seeing what they thought they were seeing, but weren't really sure they were.
Do you know what sand fleas are? OH YEAH, also called sand flies, these critters love to suck blood and leave large patches of redness where they have fed. Well, guess what islanders, YUP you guessed it, all three were being bitten and sand fleas have no preference where they bite, but moist places are the best and YES you guessed where I be telling you because as Weasil said, he thought he felt itchy on his privates and then saw things in his pubic hair. I know this is gross, but let this be a lesson to any other naked survivalists out there that think this island thing a good time, it comes with its downside it does. Not only THAT but all three of them had got a rather bad wind and sunburn. Yes, they did. No one bargained for that part of the fun. Nope, nope, noppers as the Weasil would say.
Well, I don't know how the crab bake was in anyway enjoyable, because all three noticed the others were starting to squirm (and see things jumping about their lower bodies), and in a group exodus they (all three) jumped into the surf as if that would rid them of their invaders. By the time they got out of the water, they were shivering with cold. Not caring if dinner was on the crispy side, they got dressed (probably the first intelligent thing they did all day!) and by the time they got back to the fire, the crabs were crispy critters and not edible. What a waste of crabmanity!
Of course, there was a "discussion" on this of who should have stayed behind to watch dinner, of who had more sand fleas than the other person, and whose wiseacre idea it was to go around in the nude in the first place, AND who's bright idea it was to do this in the second place when there was a load of eating establishments in Dingle where they could have feasted on fresh crab that somebody else caught! I tell ya, what dolts.
Dinner burnt, and the sun was almost gone they put out the fire, got their things and sailed back to shore, not talking to each other. Nope, not a word. Weasil couldn't talk for the other two, but he took himself to a hotel and then had the fun time of finding a room nowhere. It was the season and tourists were everywhere and there he was, "sunnyburnt, in needies of a shower, and a good meal!" And nothing available. Someone took pity on the boyo and recommended a B and B about 40 Kilometres out of town. There he took himself, only to find the last room available was no bigger than a jail cell, the shower had nothing but cold water and dinner was over.
In the course of a sleepless night, the boyo got up to a healthy farm breakfast, a recharged mobile phone, and booked a flight from Shannon to Bristol, rented a car at airport once on British soil, and drove south to Glastonbury.
Since his "holiday" was turning out to be the holiday from hell, the next best thing was to avail himself of Glastonbury and the Glastonbury festival. Thanks to his wealthy father, a front-row view of the Rolling Stones belting out their hits was all his. This be all fine and good and would have been something to write home and brag about, but no, Weas took it one step further. His dad lives in Glastonbury and being "an old hippy" (those are the Weasil's words, not mine) the "old man" (also Weasil's words) goes to the age-old festival every year to "get down." Having seen pictures of his "old man" I somehow can't imagine that. It's almost obscene.
Now I have heard about Weasil's father, and I would not describe the man in any of those words. Okay, granted he has long hair he wears tied back in a ponytail or flowing as the mood hits him, but he be an intellectual who is in the publishing business in London. Or he was, not sure if he be retired but anyway, he has a rather large home that backs up to Glastonbury Abbey and if you know the area, you know how exclusive THAT is. Weasil would have you believe the "old man" lives in a tent smoking weed all day. I tell ya!
Now Weasil was invited to stay and wait out the fires and heat dying down in Steamboat, Colorado. But no, the Weasil who we know just by the fact he spends as little time with his wife and kiddos, was not about to spend time with the "old hippy." He took himself to the festival avoiding the man that provided the fantastic perk of seeing the Stones up close and personal, but he did not factor into account that the "old hippy" would be standing right next to him. Think about it, WHY would the man get Weasil the greatest view in the world and not himself too? I think the surf, sun and sand fleas had got the best of our Weasil.
Imagine his surprise as the Stones came rocking out with Jumpin' Jack Flash, to find his very own father, that old hippy, standing next to him! How embarrassing for the young Weasil to be seen with his FATHER! Well, he made the best of it he did, he rocked out himself and forgot all about the old man, yes he did. Mick even nodded at the old hippy something he didn't do with the young whippersnapper, WHICH was not lost to our Weasil (who mindlessly let "WTF" fly out of his astounded cake hole). I said, "HOW did THAT feel?" Yup, must have stung, but I be sure Jagger has no clue who Weasil is, but probably does know who daddy is. Ye-ah Mick!
I be more than convinced the Weasil has no scruples, is spoilt, is brain impaired when it suits him, suffers from an overconsumption of sugar and caffeine, and is generally irresponsible. He had the nerve to complain he spent the concert with "the old timer." And in his words, he "couldn't git no satisfaction!"
I be sorry but I couldn't help meself, I said, "So how does it feel to be dissed by Jagger and your father, the old timer, gets a nod and YOU somehow DON'T?"
The Weas sighed heavily and said in his Weasil philosophical voice, "Paint it black Gabbie, jus paint it black."
YUP.
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
