05 May 2013
666
R. Linda:
Saturday, yesterday, at about 3:30 in the afternoon I heard a car pull up me non-existent driveway. I went to the door and who was on me doorstep but the Weasil. Yes, he lives!
"I thought you died of trichinosis," I said greeting the young whippersnapper, who I might say looked a little green around the grills because he talked himself into thinking he has trichinosis.
"Gabbie, I feelies meself in decline I duz." He said darkening me threshold.
"Come on through Weas," I said with a cheery smile and a sweep of me hand, "I be almost finished digging that hole for your bad self in me backyard."
"Really?" The idiot said brightly.
"No," I said slamming the door closed and following him to the back window where he was looking out.
"Ya kin plant me rightie aboutie dere." He said pointing to the only bit of lawn I have.
"So what REALLY brings you to me neck of the woods?" I said sitting meself down ignoring that remark.
He heaved a great sigh and sat his arse down opposite me, looking at this that was stacked on me couch:
He gestured at the sombreros and said softly, "My lastie Cinco de Mayo par-tay."
Oh great! I hadn't expected THAT.
"Smells like a Mexican cantina in here." He said sniffing the air.
And it did, earlier I had helped Tonya make the chilli, the salsa, and the chicken fajitas. I did the chopping and cooking of meat, and she did the seasoning. When one is pregnant there are a whole lot of excuses NOT to be in the kitchen. Cooking meat makes her nauseous, chopping peppers makes her eyes water, onions -- the same thing, so what's left but to shake some salt and pepper and taste! Yup.
Having most of the food complete (I make the flan today and I chop the veggies for the fajitas, and the last thing I do is put everything on to heat and hang the piñata -- yay me) we moved on to decorating, but not much, because we need the table clear to do that. However, the wife decided to go to the party store and get a few more things and here I was having just put shortbread in the oven. That smell hadn't wafted out yet, but when it did, the Weasil was all for sampling it. Yes, I made shortbread, it be me first attempt ever. No, I have not gone over to the Scottish side, I have a few people who do not like flan IF YOU CAN BELIEVE THAT and so I was being nice thus the chocie shortbread. YES, IT IS CHOCOLATE.
Weasil asked me where the family was and I told him. I also made the mistake of telling him we hadn't really planned much of the party because I was busy cooking and Tonya spent a lot of time lying down because the salt and peppering just wore her poor self out. Yup, it did. Anyway, Weasil ran with the party ideas and as a result of me listening to those "ideas" me eyes are now permanently bugging out of me head.
He took the sombreros and laid them out and all I got was a photo op. Here see for yourself, and you will realise I be expecting TOO MANY people.
Oi. I stacked the hats and told him to settle down it wasn't good for his trichinosis. But he was filled to the trichinosis brim with ideas.
"We kin startie wit a low-rider parade!" He said getting up and moving around. "I kin lower yer car and my 'stang and we can go pick peeps up and bounce up da driveway (dat ain't dere) blastin' da mary ochi tunnies."
"No, we are not lowering MY car. YOU can lower YOURS, but no." I said sitting there horrified. For one thing, I'd have no axle or bumpers left because the "driveway that ain't dere" is full of ruts and bumps and if you don't drive real slow, you can bottom out. So lowering me car was NOT an option.
"Welly den we kin hava Bernie Madoff look-a-like contest, mos of da women round here could give dat sum stiff competition."
Oh my.
"Gabbie, duz ya hava pinnie otta yet, cuz if not we kin make one looks like Ann Coulter and we kin stick pieces a paper like ya find in a fortune cookie, only dey will have Annie's infamous sayin's on dem."
"No, I have a piñata, it's a parrot, and it has candy in it already." I cut him off.
"Okie dokie den we can have prizes fer whoever whips da parrot's arse da bestie."
"Candy is the prize," I said scratching me head, which was me feeling around for a clump of hair to start pulling out.
"Nah ha, yas gotter do bettah den dat!"
"Okay like what? It be awfully late in the game." I said biting and I knew I shouldn't have, but I did in spite of meself.
"We kin give a gift certificate fer a Brazilian bikini wax wit a tubligation!"
"WHAT?" I jumped up in horror.
"Not goodlie?" He asked like I was crazy.
I was frothing at the mouth by then, here I was with this crazy person in me house, thinking he was dying of trichinosis and was here for his LAST "par-tay." I looked around for something to finish him off with, but there was only a spoon. That was it a spoon! Where is the hammer when you need it? I picked up that spoon and I hit him on the head with it, and it had no effect on him, no none because it was freaking PLASTIC!
"I dun know wot yer doin' but here's another idea, howz about we git a bunch of Chihuahuas and have blindfolded Chihuahua Cinco de Mayo dog races?"
OH MY GOD! WHO IS HE? I stood there holding that ineffectual spoon looking at him speechless.
"We could also advert yer par-tay and charge admission."
"No, no we can't and no we won't," I said hoping me voice sounded threatening.
"Welly try dissy 'ere on fer size den, howz bout you providies da parkin', da foodies, da drinkies, and I'll providie da jumper cables an da bottle rockets all fer free!"
I swallowed wrong and started choking. But I got me voice back after he pounded me on me back and I was hollering and had a fit of sorts and he told me I could yell and shout all I wanted because me neighbours would have me arrested and I could do all that from the police station and not to worry he'd run the par-tay on me behalf of being too overcome with his impending demise. At least I think that's what he said, I was choking and couldn't really hear all that crap coming out of his mouth with any clarity.
You see what I have to put up with? Is it any wonder I am the way I am? That I am slightly sane is amazing in spite of the Weasil ideas, the Weasil visits, the Weasil situations I find meself in. I have been not punked, I have been WEASILED.
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Saturday, yesterday, at about 3:30 in the afternoon I heard a car pull up me non-existent driveway. I went to the door and who was on me doorstep but the Weasil. Yes, he lives!
"I thought you died of trichinosis," I said greeting the young whippersnapper, who I might say looked a little green around the grills because he talked himself into thinking he has trichinosis.
"Gabbie, I feelies meself in decline I duz." He said darkening me threshold.
"Come on through Weas," I said with a cheery smile and a sweep of me hand, "I be almost finished digging that hole for your bad self in me backyard."
"Really?" The idiot said brightly.
"No," I said slamming the door closed and following him to the back window where he was looking out.
"Ya kin plant me rightie aboutie dere." He said pointing to the only bit of lawn I have.
"So what REALLY brings you to me neck of the woods?" I said sitting meself down ignoring that remark.
He heaved a great sigh and sat his arse down opposite me, looking at this that was stacked on me couch:
 |
| Ready to par-tay! |
Oh great! I hadn't expected THAT.
"Smells like a Mexican cantina in here." He said sniffing the air.
And it did, earlier I had helped Tonya make the chilli, the salsa, and the chicken fajitas. I did the chopping and cooking of meat, and she did the seasoning. When one is pregnant there are a whole lot of excuses NOT to be in the kitchen. Cooking meat makes her nauseous, chopping peppers makes her eyes water, onions -- the same thing, so what's left but to shake some salt and pepper and taste! Yup.
Having most of the food complete (I make the flan today and I chop the veggies for the fajitas, and the last thing I do is put everything on to heat and hang the piñata -- yay me) we moved on to decorating, but not much, because we need the table clear to do that. However, the wife decided to go to the party store and get a few more things and here I was having just put shortbread in the oven. That smell hadn't wafted out yet, but when it did, the Weasil was all for sampling it. Yes, I made shortbread, it be me first attempt ever. No, I have not gone over to the Scottish side, I have a few people who do not like flan IF YOU CAN BELIEVE THAT and so I was being nice thus the chocie shortbread. YES, IT IS CHOCOLATE.
Weasil asked me where the family was and I told him. I also made the mistake of telling him we hadn't really planned much of the party because I was busy cooking and Tonya spent a lot of time lying down because the salt and peppering just wore her poor self out. Yup, it did. Anyway, Weasil ran with the party ideas and as a result of me listening to those "ideas" me eyes are now permanently bugging out of me head.
He took the sombreros and laid them out and all I got was a photo op. Here see for yourself, and you will realise I be expecting TOO MANY people.
| Too many sombreros, too many par-tay guests. Once he had laid the sombreros out in artistic fashion I asked him where people were going to sit. He told me hopefully they'd all be wearing the hats and plenty of room left on the couch until he realised the breath of the sombrero brims, "Well," he said, "ya jus can't kiss anyone iffen yer wearin' one a dese." |
Oi. I stacked the hats and told him to settle down it wasn't good for his trichinosis. But he was filled to the trichinosis brim with ideas.
"We kin startie wit a low-rider parade!" He said getting up and moving around. "I kin lower yer car and my 'stang and we can go pick peeps up and bounce up da driveway (dat ain't dere) blastin' da mary ochi tunnies."
"No, we are not lowering MY car. YOU can lower YOURS, but no." I said sitting there horrified. For one thing, I'd have no axle or bumpers left because the "driveway that ain't dere" is full of ruts and bumps and if you don't drive real slow, you can bottom out. So lowering me car was NOT an option.
"Welly den we kin hava Bernie Madoff look-a-like contest, mos of da women round here could give dat sum stiff competition."
Oh my.
"Gabbie, duz ya hava pinnie otta yet, cuz if not we kin make one looks like Ann Coulter and we kin stick pieces a paper like ya find in a fortune cookie, only dey will have Annie's infamous sayin's on dem."
"No, I have a piñata, it's a parrot, and it has candy in it already." I cut him off.
"Okie dokie den we can have prizes fer whoever whips da parrot's arse da bestie."
"Candy is the prize," I said scratching me head, which was me feeling around for a clump of hair to start pulling out.
"Nah ha, yas gotter do bettah den dat!"
"Okay like what? It be awfully late in the game." I said biting and I knew I shouldn't have, but I did in spite of meself.
"We kin give a gift certificate fer a Brazilian bikini wax wit a tubligation!"
"WHAT?" I jumped up in horror.
"Not goodlie?" He asked like I was crazy.
I was frothing at the mouth by then, here I was with this crazy person in me house, thinking he was dying of trichinosis and was here for his LAST "par-tay." I looked around for something to finish him off with, but there was only a spoon. That was it a spoon! Where is the hammer when you need it? I picked up that spoon and I hit him on the head with it, and it had no effect on him, no none because it was freaking PLASTIC!
"I dun know wot yer doin' but here's another idea, howz about we git a bunch of Chihuahuas and have blindfolded Chihuahua Cinco de Mayo dog races?"
OH MY GOD! WHO IS HE? I stood there holding that ineffectual spoon looking at him speechless.
"We could also advert yer par-tay and charge admission."
"No, no we can't and no we won't," I said hoping me voice sounded threatening.
"Welly try dissy 'ere on fer size den, howz bout you providies da parkin', da foodies, da drinkies, and I'll providie da jumper cables an da bottle rockets all fer free!"
I swallowed wrong and started choking. But I got me voice back after he pounded me on me back and I was hollering and had a fit of sorts and he told me I could yell and shout all I wanted because me neighbours would have me arrested and I could do all that from the police station and not to worry he'd run the par-tay on me behalf of being too overcome with his impending demise. At least I think that's what he said, I was choking and couldn't really hear all that crap coming out of his mouth with any clarity.
You see what I have to put up with? Is it any wonder I am the way I am? That I am slightly sane is amazing in spite of the Weasil ideas, the Weasil visits, the Weasil situations I find meself in. I have been not punked, I have been WEASILED.
Gabe
Copyright © 2013 All rights reserved
