sticks and stones

"what's the worst thing you could be called?"

[the sample group comprised of educators, social workers, and a photo journalist, all advancing into the third decade].

'kiddo'. found particularly patronizing when used by co-workers. perhaps it's the daddy issues, but i took no umbrage when "53 year old beer gut" used this term at the track while running "800's" (that means something that could potentially require AED equipment).

'honey', 'sweetie' and anything that can be located on the 'little debbie' shelf at the supermarket. again, any colleague that opts for this aggregate of saccharine nouns requires an immediate ostracism from chit chat about the most recent celebrity b-lister flashing her wax job upon exiting a limo. significant others- other people's significant others- should come thoughtfully equipped with sick bags for dispensing to those of us within earshot of their effuse exchange.

"i don't care about 'bitch' or 'C U Next Tuesday'." i suppose if it's coming from a peroxide blonde, sporting a ramen noodle perm, wielding one of jerry springer's chairs, then i doubt that it would be enough of a slur to stir me from a repeat episode of 'the real housewives of atlanta'.

'fat'.

and suddenly we are in the kind of tacit agreement that the US commander in chief's, circa. 1970, have wanted to happen on their watch, between israel and palestine.

is it a bird, is it a plane...?

there are some things that you just never expect to see; iran's president lighting the hannukah menorah for joseph lieberman; a delta airlines hostess who is genuinely pleased to see you board the aircraft with a guitar case/fussy infant/just your boarding pass; a minivan-sized turd floating across the horizon.

"complex shit" by american artist, paul mccarthy, is an inflatable sculpture that recently became untethered from it's moorings at a swiss gallery, to float through the air- and knock out a greenhouse window- before it landed back on earth.

(that thing would make a great bouncy castle for a birthday party).

and they lived happily ever after...taking the piss

the second wave of weddings for us 30-something-comittment-phobe-procrastinators-worried-about-gynecological-dessication is ready to come crashing down onto the shore of holy matrimony in '08/'09. make sure you heed your mother's advice and don't eat too much cake, hit the water half an hour early, and wind up with stomach cramps. weddings are the industry du jour; every grown up little girl's moment in the spotlight. so why not cross off old/borrowed/blue and head to michael's instead of david's (bridal) and DIY yourself a little tie dye ensemble?



should a bride decide to go for the kind of theme that has a "TM" on it, then the options are limitless. lady and the tramp suggests you incorporate helium balloon dog paws into your centrepieces, bouquet and doorway decor.



i was desperate for an invitation to an acquaintance's friend's alice in wonderland wedding (before the simpson/wentz pseudo-celebs made it uber trendy and cool)- there are a couple of candidates in my circle who would vie for the role of 'caterpillar high on herb'. of course a series of characters to match the wedding party's personalities might not go amiss- perhaps a conveniant way to identify the seating plan with the seven dwarfs...



or grumpy, sleepy and funshine bears...



completed with bride and groom cake toppers, using roger hargreaves' inspiring little miss (scatterbrain) and mr men (mr messy) for the hard core anglophiles...





for the post-modernists who are seeking something more contemporary...



or the "recovering" lot who have pointed to their elephant in the living room and given it a giant tongue kiss...



whatever category of "ism" they might fall under...



while i take the whole vow/til death us do part thing seriously, i would have to say a take the piss theme is probably more my style. obviously something scatalogical would be a bit low-brow (and predictable). instead; the kind of chocolate tiered tower to put any woman with PMS (or even menopausal sans ovaries) into sugar shock at first sight. with that said, a heart shaped cake, split into pieces by an axe (several axes even), and a little plastic figurine (i would even concede to a precious moments stylized "me"), in a pair of dri-fit running shorts and supported arch athletic shoes-- leaping off the cake towards the nearest airport departure terminal. of course "excess baggage" (the matching kind when you're in your 30's), might be more appropo.

emotionally constipated

this morning i was stuck in traffic for over an hour to drive just 3 miles. unfortunately i had just consumed 3 cups of coffee and i had no wide necked vessels in the central console to try and relieve the most basic of bodily functions. i hobbled across the car park to get to the toilet when i finally arrived at work. what a relief.

i am uncomfortable around other people's emotional diahrea. however, emotional constipation eventually results in a painful mess (not to mention haemharroids).