learning to walk again v1

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I wrote this before my wonderful*, amazing*, spectacular* surgery. Today I’m writing about the wonderful*, amazing*, spectacular* post surgical recovery, but I thought I’d start with some history first.

Let me ‘splain, no it is too much, let me sum up*  (*Princess Bride quote for those less nerdy/hip than the author – hip…? see what I did there? brilliant, right?)images-25
  • I got my left hip replaced 7 years ago because I have hip dysplasia – yes, just like in dogs, but with less fur (thank god for leg waxing).
  • Shortly after someone wrote ‘I am Titanium’ about me* (*theory, but probably true).
  • PT was challenging* (*”Helga” my personal torturer aka my PT, was a daily star in my twitter/facebook feed).
  • Then life was awesome* (*my left leg had an awesome time, the rest of me intermittently so) I took up martial arts and got seriously into yoga.
  • I got extra attention in airport security – “Are you really that hip, because you just set off my security wand”*  (*actual conversation. with myself. in my imagination)

Fast forward.

b2a23f4fe6357f59bdd72681648cb0c7Uber cool hip starts hurting. I ignore it, hum lyrics to my song (I am Titanium). Hip hurts more, Seanna (my new Helga, I mean PT) gives me furrowed brow stare with one raised eyebrow.  I go to hip doctor, who really is nowhere as hip as I am, but I don’t point that out because I am a yoga teacher and above such petty observations, mostly. Doc smiles and furrows brow (a tricky look, but he pulls it off) and orders blood work. Still humming song, I get bloodwork. Doc calls, leaves message with ‘very serious doctor voice tone’ that I have high metal levels in my blood. I wonder about the Metalica music, he says no, has nothing to do with that.

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Well then. Dammit.

X-Rays, Scans, long conversations and several unhelpful Google searches later I learn that my hip replacement is not so hip after all, you could call it Tragically Hip (but you’d have to be Canadian to get that, or Google it, go ahead, I’ll wait). Metal debris around the hip has done the not so hip things like seriously damaging the muscle, connective tissue and bones all around it – like wow Scoob* (*Scooby Doo reference, don’t roll your eyes, I’m just trying to be helpful). So my pelvic bone is doing a disappearing act, but since it’s such a small and unimportant bone this is not worrisome* (*eye roll to indicate sarcasm). Also my blood is full of great things like Cobalt, which is a nice colour of blue if you like to paint, but not so great to have running through your entire bloodstream and all around all your cells and organs, like your brain, and all that. Also chromium, which I thought was a good thing, but there are different types of it, and wanna guess what type runs through my veins? (that was rhetorical, but go ahead and answer it if you want, I’ll nod wisely when you do) .

So there’s all that. But hey, not a big deal you can fix it with…. wait for it … surgery!

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Surgery that will replace the replacement with a different replacement that is much cooler, and less Titanium than the original replacement (aka ALL of my current replacement) It’ll be just like my new car brakes,  ceramic and plastic. Well except the plastic, because plastic on car brakes would just be stupid. Okay, forget that analogy… moving on. Look forward to the next hit song I am Ceramic with Plastic bits too. Surgery that may or may not involve bone grafts. Bone grafts from the Cadaver* Bank (*means dead, but really, really, super duper clean dead) – cue me making Walking Dead jokes for the Rest Of My Life. Surgery that may involve rebuilding my pelvis – so I will be even more hip, hard to imagine, but try (I’ll be waiting over here looking terribly cool while you imagine). Also, it may involve ‘cracking open my femur and opening it like a coffin*’ (*my surgeon’s word choice, I suggested a different metaphor/analogy/fucking word choice … like present! walnut! a goddamn door, but not a coffin, honestly dude, what are you thinking?).  But basically these are the are options, that they can only decide on after I am unconscious, so I just consent to them ALL beforehand. Also the surgeon is getting a new orthopedic ‘toy’ from a ‘friend’ that he’s really excited about using.  Cue awkward silence while doc looks excited and I have what I imagine is a neutral expression* (*neutral meaning eye roll continuing into blank stare that I imagine conveying understanding and empathy about ‘new toy’ that will ‘whack off’ part of my hip).

My next blog will be about better word choices for surgeons to use with conscious patients. Instead of ‘coffin’ try ‘fucking any other word in the English language’. Instead of ‘whack off’ use….  wait, whack off is kinda funny, but judge your audience and be prepared for a ‘that’s what she said’ response.

20140602_124948_dhhahff_smIn preparation for surgery I have been consuming Russian Weight Lifter amounts of protein and amino acids, an entire tub of collagen (which has just made my furry eyebrows furrier – so awesome), bone building supplements, supplements to help the bone, muscle, and connective tissue building supplements build more muscle, bone and connective tissue,  and an all natural chelation* agent (*pulls the metal out of my blood and puts it into my poop – insert your own toilet joke here). Basically this equates to a couple of chalky tasting grey coloured shakes and five fistfuls of supplements every day with occasional really awful Arnold Schwarzenegger impersonation. Also they have me washing myself down daily with surgical soap, because apparently I am a very dirty girl and need to clean myself up before they slice into my skin, muscle, bone… (TMI? sorry, ignore that bit).

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Also, I have had my hair roots touched up, my eyebrows tweezed, my eyelashes done and have a pedicure booked, because I’m not looking at grey roots, unruly eyebrows, wimpy lashes and chipped toenails for 6 weeks, let me tell you. Priorities people. They’re important. Considering having a hair blown out so I will not have to deal with the inevitable dreadlocks on day 3 post op, but then I thought if I don’t survive the surgery, my hair will be all wrong and no one will recognize me, so maybe not.

Surgery was Tuesday, January 17th.  It sucked. It was ‘the worst case scenario’, that my doctor told me about with his ‘serious, but hey it’s still okay’ face. Aftermath to follow in next blog.
 
Below, just in case you didn’t catch the reference in the title

let me sum up, in tweets

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Sometimes you can sum up a relationship better in Tweets and Hashtags. #FakeLoveFacts #BreakUpHashtagsAreTheBest #ImFINEdammit

The one that is the story of my life

The one I heard over and over

I actually believed this one

A story I told myself

Not kidding

I need to redefine ’emergency’

not really true, he never said I was sexy

and he forget his phone, bummer, right?

actually the only way he expressed anything

again, not really true, he never said he wanted to be with me

I’m probably just over-reacting, again

and again….

And the one that is the most true

Thanks Twitter for the #FakeLoveFacts Hashtag trend. I’d say I feel much better, but that’s not true. But it did distract me for a little bit, so that’s good.

I do talk about other things on  Twitter, (cough! #Resist #TheWalkingDead) really, you can click, you know, like, if you really, really wanted to. I’m going to go finish of that quart of chocolate ice cream while you do.

 

what I really think of Valentines day

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My Homemade Valentines

Yes, I remain as curmudgeonly as ever this time of year.

Dear Cupid (1) 

I wanted to personally(2) thank you for all
the joy(3) you have brought into my life(4) 
thus far. My high school years were
especially full(5) of your special touch with 
an arrow(6). As I grew and matured(7) I came to
realize the unique role(8) that you would play
in my life(9). Every step I took you were
there(10). I have certainly been blessed(11) by
your love(12). It is at this wonderful(13) time
of the year that I really feel closest to you(14).
So for all(15) you have done(16) I want to express
my gratitude(17) properly(18). With a kiss(19).

Yours with Love(20) 
R

(1) You cruel naked jerk
(2) and I mean up close and personal
(3) and by joy I mean years and years of personal anguish
(4) if you could call it that
(5) full of scatological moments
(6) were you aiming for my forehead?!
(7) tried desperately to out run you – you grotty little louse
(8) of my personal tormentor 
(9) of pain and turmoil
(10) shooting arrows in my back
(11) I didn’t know beelzebub did blessings
(12) love of inflicting acute mental and physical pain 
(13) commercially forced sentimental pink drivel 
(14) hard to miss you with this sharp arrow in my throat – you foul bastard!
(15) Every last agonizing…
(16) each and every arrow through my head, my back…
(17) I got my own cross-bow 
(18) so I would watch your spiteful nude butt
(19) would you like to know where?
(20) I would Love to snap your little “bow” in half

 

I’m with Zefrank here, relationship apocalypse. Yes or No?

This year it’s a No, my awesomeness can be a lot to handle.

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WOMANIFESTO

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Yes.
Every. Single. MotherFucking. Word.

Libba Bray

Congratulations.

You have woken the witch that lives deep inside me.

You have removed the slumber chains from the giant of old.

You have handed me a box of matches and no chaperone

And a world made of lies and polyester.

Congratulations.

You have barked up the wrong bitch.

Proclaim it:

I have shucked off the good, southern lady’s cloak,

Of the homecoming court, the cheerleader,

The preacher’s daughter, hands gentled in her lap.

They tied it at my neck with a bow, a Gordian girl-knot,

When I was young and bossy and sure-footed

“For protection,” they said.

Whose protection? I wondered.

Enough.

I have sent that shit out to the dry cleaners

I will not pick it up

They can sell it for a profit from a rack on the street.

From now on,

I’m exposing the raw pink edges of my true skin to the sun.

Some things…

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uncensored Canadian thoughts on living in America today

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It was a very long night, and this morning is not looking much better.

I’m oscillating between Debra and Maya Angelou; between Fuck absolutely everything and Oriah Mountain Dreamer; between running home to Canada, and staying here to fight for what I believe at my core is the right thing to do.

Hey, I never said I was perfect. Zen Bitch, remember?


Still I Rise
Maya Angelou, 1928 – 2014

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

The Invitation

Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’

It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

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Oh Canada, I love you and I miss you, but there is more work to do where I am.

And I wouldn’t be a yoga teacher if I didn’t tell you to breathe. Slowly and Deeply. Repeat.

somewhat un-zen life hacks

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Things I have learned lately and not so lately

Topic 1: Not Remotely Zen and the Art of Automotive Maintenance

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  • Be wary of Google maps when they suggest a ‘faster route’ to your swanky restaurant date with your daughters (one cooking for you, one eating with you).
  • Faster routes in Google maps can mean potholes the size of large bowling balls.
  • Potholes the size of large bowling balls can mean tire blowouts/flats in questionable parts of Chicago at night.
  • When changing a post pothole the size of a large bowling ball tire in questionable parts of Chicago at night be sure to turn your car lights off so the battery doesn’t get drained.
  • When changing a tire at night in a questionable part of Chicago saying ‘Ok Google turn on flashlight’ to your phone works better that ‘Ok Google where the fuck is the flashlight?’ – the second will have Google autocorrect ‘fuck’ to ‘phone your ex who told you to stop swearing so much’ and no good will come from THAT conversation.
  • When flat tires won’t come off even though you’ve removed all the goddamn lugnuts and pulled as hard as you can, you can try calling AAA, and you can try the police to help – because questionable area –  but do not try this  on the night the Cubs get into the World’s Series, because all of the police are at Wrigleyville and not in your questionable part of Chicago.
  • When flat tires won’t come off, even though you’ve done every bloody thing correctly and you’re going to be late to your reservation using ‘Very Loud Creative Swears’ whilst yanking on the motherf’ing tire will, in fact remove the flat tire and send you a few feet back with a filthy tire on your trendy, I’m going to a swanky restaurant outfit and your ass on the equally filthy roadside, but you won’t care, because pulling that motherf’cker off was extremely satisfying.
  • Once a goddamn flat tire is finally off the car, two motivated women can get a spare tire on in less than two minutes because Bitches Get Stuff Done and there was a swanky restaurant waiting for us.stephen_portrait
  • And just in case handling a flat Like A Boss wasn’t satisfying enough, the Chef comes out to greet us personally and gives us a tour of the kitchens because besides being cool and badasses, we also love eating exceptional food.

 

 

Topic 2: Dating or Dr. Really Strangelove and How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

  • images-2Never date musicians
  • No good has ever come from dating a musician, so when screening potential dates ask first if they can play an instrument.
  • Playing piano might be okay, but plays electric guitar in a band is RIGHT out – do not walk, RUN away.
  • Never date Scorpios
  • I’m certain there are some very lovely Scorpio men out there, but do not date them. Scorpio in any part of their chart, just to be safe. Scorpio Moons especially no.
  • No more Latino men – no, no, no, no, and Hell no. Write this down, because apparently this is a smooth spot in your brain – NO Latino men. Mexican, Peruvian, Ecuadorian, Spanish doesn’t manner, don’t do it. It will never end well.
  • Catholic Latino men who adore their mother. Just don’t. You can’t even. You will never ever even. You will be switched from Madonna to Whore and back so many times you will get whiplash. You will swear too much, smile too little, never cook as well, be respected too much or way too little. You will never be good enough. This is a fact, at least for you, it is a fact. For the love of your remaining sanity and shattered ego, don’t go there.
  • Scorpio Latino Musician? Run.
  • Never date Irishmen, especially if they’re poets. No good ever came from dating an Irish poet. Write that down in your journal till you remember it.
  • Basically dating is a bad idea. Dating will invariably lead to adding another category to the list of men you are never to date again.
  • You might think being a yoga teacher with long curly hair would attract suitable men to date, it does not. It does however, attract all manner of suggestions regarding flexibility and comments about anatomy.

Topic 3: Approaching Interesting Men with Beards in restaurants images-1

  • DO IT. They could turn out to be a really cool band and invite you to come do yoga with them and go to their gigs
  • Do not date them – see above. Hang with them, do yoga with them, be generally be cool around them.

 

 

Topic 4: Retail / Food therapy or Eat, Read, Love

  • Buy the sweater, it will be warm and soft and gorgeous, feel like a hug and it will never judge you, tell you to smile more or to be more ladylike.
  • Buy the book(s), they will be interesting, expand your thinking and always there for you and will never ignore you when you need them most.
  • Buy infinity scarf with e.e. cumming’s poetry  i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) all over it because poetry that some men write is so much better than most men.
  • Reread Neruda, because poetry… so much better than actual men.
  • Buy the fingerless gloves with that section from Wuthering Heights that you love because well-written words, so much better than…. men.
  • Buy dessert, eat it whenever the fuck you want, and love every moment of eating it, because life is short and often needs chocolate. Also chocolate never judges you, ever.
  • downloadMovies – Go to them. Find a friend,  go alone. Put butter on your popcorn, eat it all. Movies where the creeptastic man meets a very satisfying end are especially good.

 

 

Also, yoga. Do some yoga, get sweaty, fall on your ass, get up again. Repeat.

 

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moments before a less than graceful landing

 

the post in which I swear. a Lot.

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images-20Last week I had a small issue with my garbage collection. It was actually more of a collect some of it, dump some of it on the street and leave most of it behind. Oh, and then drive over what was left behind making sure it was impossible to pull my car out without driving over it again. Let me tell you there is nothing I enjoy more than cleaning up garbage that I have already cleaned up right when I need to leave for work.

If only there was a way to actually express how that felt…..giphy-2

Well! Gee Willikers and Jiminey Cricket!!

Jeepers, somehow that just wasn’t satisfying, and wait, it’s also taking the Lord’s name in vain

gee willikers
a humorous or outdated extension of gee, which is a euphemism for Jesus.
Gee willikers, that wind’s a-blowin’!
#gee #geez #sheesh #jeepers

 

Holy filet of fuck-minion!

Feckin’ flesh-turd dropped stinking from the poxy arsehole of a hare-lipped harlot! 
– Christopher Moore

There, that’s a little better.

Once again I was told to stop swearing and to be  a  Lady by a man who uses fuck like a comma.

So, for all the well-intentioned people who have told me to act more lady-like, this badger-shagging spunk monkey of a fucking blog is just for you.

As The Vagenda’s Holly Baxter explained in the summer: “Women are routinely told to hold themselves back and pay special concern to their language. It’s a foundation for real misogyny.”

 

Some people will continue to believe that swear words are unladylike. Others will claim, like (Quentin)Letts (who wrote of Dame Helen Mirren “blurt[ing] out filth like an uneducated trollop.”), that they indicate a lack of education, intellect or imagination. To those, I present some of my favourite words: Cackle. Hoodwink. Loquacious. Pusillanimous. Vernacular. Galumph. Because, if using a singular monosyllabic curse is unimaginative, or unladylike, then maybe we should dress it up a little. Put a metaphorical tiara on that obscenity, if it’s so deeply unfeminine. – 

So why would a well read and well educated modern woman feel the need to use profanity? Perhaps it is because I am well read and educated.

mark-twain-quote-when-angry-count-to-four-when-very-angry-swearwhoreson obscene greasy tallow-catch
vacant common-kissing coxcomb!
mammering weak-hinged canker-blossom!
currish shard-borne maggot-pie!
clouted fat-kidneyed foot-licker!
quailing lean-witted bladder!
William Shakespeare

In th’ isle of Britain, long since famous grown
For breeding the best cunts in Christendom,
There reigns, and oh! long may he reign and thrive,
The easiest King and best-bred man alive.
Him no ambition moves to get renown
Like the French fool, that wanders up and down
Starving his people, hazarding his crown.
Peace is his aim, his gentleness is such,
And love he loves, for he loves fucking much.
John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester

Choose us. Choose life. Choose mortgage payments; choose washing machines; choose cars; choose sitting oan a couch watching mind-numbing and spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fuckin junk food intae yir mooth. Choose rotting away, pishing and shiteing yersel in a home, a total fuckin embarrassment tae the selfish, fucked-up brats ye’ve produced. Choose life.
– Trainspotting, by Irvine Welsh

And maybe, just maybe there are a few really good reasons for women to swear.

images-21Women have far better things to do than express their frustration in a way that’s pleasing to patriarchal values. Today’s most offensive swear word comes from what’s between our legs – so surely we should best how to use it?
Caitlin Moran“I personally have a cunt. Sometimes it’s ‘flaps’ or ‘twat’, but most of the time, it’s my cunt. Cunt is a proper, old, historic, strong word. I like that my fire escape also doubles up as the most potent swearword in the English language. Yeah. That’s how powerful it is, guys. If I tell you what I’ve got down there, old ladies and clerics might faint. I like how shocked people are when you say ‘cunt’. It’s like I have a nuclear bomb in my pants, or a tiger, or a gun.

Compared to this the most powerful swear word men have got out of their privates is ‘dick’, which is frankly vanilla… I love that ‘cunt’ stands, on its own, as the supreme unvanquishable word. It has almost mystic resonance. It is a cunt – we all know it’s a cunt – but we can’t call it a cunt. We can’t say the actual word. It’s too powerful…”― Caitlin MoranHow to Be a Woman

 

Beyond classical literature, feminist empowerment, fighting the fuckwitted patriarchy there are many good reasons to swear.

TOP TEN REASONS TO SWEAR LIKE A LADY

  1. It’s fun and it can be funny. Try saying badger-shagging spunk monkey without at least a smirk.
  2. It makes TV shows and movies more engaging. Who doesn’t love Samuel L. Fucking Jackson? More profanity equals more viewers. Not shitting you – Ask Monika Bednarek senior lecturer in linguistics at the University of Sydney, ‘The Wire’ outranked other comparable shows because it “averaged more than 100 instances of profanity per episode”
  3. It improves communication. By swearing, we not only communicate the meaning of a sentence but also our emotional reaction to it. It clearly lets someone know if they need to back off without having to resort to physical violence, and nobody wants to mess up a manicure when a well placed “back off you fucktarded asshat” will do.
  4. It’s more persuasive. Studies have shown that swearing can increase the effectiveness and persuasiveness of a message. It is an intense, succinct and powerful way of expressing yourself. Ever read Go the Fuck to Sleep? It’s succinct.
  5. It increases pain tolerance. Stub your toe and see how effective Rats! feels compared to Sweet muppity mother of Christ!!! Also, there are like 5 billion studies by real scientists backing this up. No, I’m not fucking linking all them, JFGI yourself. Okay, here’s one.
  6. It correlates with a higher vocabulary. No, I did not just make this up, read this published the journal of Language Science. They concluded the people who could recall a lot of swear words also tended to be more eloquent in general.
  7. It’s good for you. Health benefits of swearing include increased circulation, elevated endorphins, and an overall sense of calm, control, and well-being.
  8. It means you’re creative. Fuck can be used as a noun, verb, adverb, adjective and interjection and it still makes fucking sense.
  9. It’s cheaper than therapy and makes you feel better immediately.
  10. It makes you feel stronger and more resilient.

Really that’s what is comes down to. Being a lady in this world does not mean we have to censor ourselves from all of the beautiful terms of endearment like “shitgibbon” and “hellbeast” and “thunder donkey snot eater.”

Speaking of increased vocabulary, there are many British terms one can substitute and sound more cultured than crude. For example – “Yer fulla shite ye feckin’ arsehole” is a fancier way of saying “You’re full of shit you fucking asshole”. Options people, you always have options.

Creative swearing aside, I still know how to behave in polite society. I will not go all Pulp Fiction in front of your kids or when I meet your mother, unless she starts it, then we’ll probably get along famously.  I am in complete control of my vocabulary, and would only say ‘fucknuggets’ when it is truly warranted. I have never said “shitgoose” or “Jesus Christ monkey balls” at church or a PTA meeting. 

 

Just in case you were looking to expand your swearing vocabulary I’ve added some of my favourites, guaranteed to fill any swear jar

jerkwater
jerkpants
sassy jerk pants
quim
bitchenator
dickwhistle thundertwat
Sugar tits
Clusterfuck
Twat waffle
Motherfuckinator
Assclown
Silly Bunt
Turd burglar
Sweet muppity Christ
Fucktard
Fuckwit
Son of a shit biscuit
Wanker (what one does before tossing)
Tosser (what one does after a wank)
Interminable suck bastard
spank wanker
Holy filet of fuck-minion
Fucknuggets
Fuckstockings
Knob, knobend, knobhead, knobber
Ass jar
Ass hat
Gobshite
Shitehawk
Bag o’ shite
Bollocks
Cack-Handed (full of shite)
Bellend (head of a penis)
Bibbity bobity poop sac
Bastardised fuckwitted vagina captain
Flatulent bottom feeding wrangler
Monkey wanker
Bollocks
Sod Off
Feck Off
Hell’s own bunghole.
Badger-shagging spunk monkey
Bum tumpet
Fiery flagon of dragon toss

and from Christopher Moore’s “Fool”

“She can be a whirlwind of tits and terror when she puts her mind to a purpose, can’t she, sir?”

“You whoreson scalawag!” said I. “You flesh-turd dropped stinking from the poxy arsehole of a hare-lipped harlot!”

“Oh, we are but soft and squishy bags of mortality rolling in a bin of sharp circumstance, leaking life until we collapse, flaccid, into our own despair..”

“Love? Sodding, bloody, tossing, bloody, sodding, bloody love? Irrelevant, superfluous, bloody, ruddy, rotten, sodding love? What ho? Wherefore? What the f*ck? Love?”

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it’s too much, let me mansplain

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190sdls4g3zuejpgThank god for men.

I mean really, really.

Today I had to be reminded “to take a deep breath” and also “to Just calm down”.  I was – once again – letting my girly, hormonally enhanced,  totally random and irrational  emotions take over my Little Lady brain,  thankfully there was a man there to mansplain to me that there wasn’t any need to have any of those yucky emotions, otherwise I might have made an even bigger fool of myself.

Like I said Thank God For MEN.

  • For men who mansplain why my feelings or thoughts are actually not things that we should spend time talking about, I mean ever. Who has time for all that silly woman thinking? Not men who understand exactly how the world works, that’s for sure.
  • For men who remind me that when I cuss I don’t sound like a lady, and we all know 286f5a3d7ddfd67c4c4abd05edc15a09more than anything I want to be a motherfucking lady, so I am eternally grateful for those men (and enlightened women) who have spent my life reminding, and re-reminding me what is becoming behavior for a lady.

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Thanks to the enlightened man in my life I have come up with a self improvement list. A list that will better help be behave in a more lady-like manner, need fewer things mansplained to me, and to not let my silly girl emotions take over my thinking.

How To Be More Lady-Like

  •  Be eloquent and able to carry a conversation when a man lets you speak.last-fuck
  • Don’t use profanity, overeat or drink excessively, especially in front of a man. Being a lady requires having self-control and will power, and each of these activities is an example of overindulgence, and it’s what lazy fat cows do, not ladies.
  • Be well-read and stay up-to-date on the current events of the world, so when a man talks you know just when to nod your head in agreement and when to furrow your brow in concern.
  • Stay calm, cool, and collected. Avoiding lashing out at others if you are annoyed, angry, or upset. Always remain poised, and handle the situation rationally and calmly. The men in your life will appreciate this.Amy-Poehler-Troll
  • A lady knows when to say no – politely, and also understands in situations with men “no can mean more beer/wine/charm/rape drugs”, or “no really means yes, so why are we wasting a man’s valuable time?”, basically no means what the man you’re with says it does.
  • Say please and thank you to the men in your life. While this may sound like an etiquette cliché, forgetting to say these things (even by accident) will not go unnoticed, and comes across as very rude, and we simply can’t afford to be anything but polite.
  • Say thank you anytime a man does you a favour, however big or small, even if it was a favour you didn’t ask for like telling you how nice your ass looks sweetheart, or great rack; it will show him that you appreciated his thoughtfulness.
  • not-your-bitch2-600x873Have good posture. Standing and sitting up straight are signs of a true lady. As an added bonus, having good posture is better for your back, will help strengthen up your core, and make your breasts look bigger (surgery is always a handy option should your breasts not be large enough, or your stomach too large).
    • When talking to a man, give him your undivided attention. It is polite, and will make for a more stimulating conversation for you to nod and listen to.
    • Never interrupt or talk over a man. This will place the man in the uncomfortable position of having to mansplain something to you yet again.
  • Be charming. A true lady doesn’t just sit there quietly and let the world pass by. Engage with men, listen politely to their stimulating conversations, and be a subtle flirt.
    • Classy-Lady-Explains-Why-She-Is-Fluent-In-3-LanguagesIf you don’t know how to be charming, start off by smiling more at men when you listen to them, and compliment them more. Make your compliments personal; for example, instead of simply thanking a man for mansplaining a difficult topic to you, like how stupid and irritating your Little Lady brain thoughts are, also tell him that he has a dizzying intellect, and huge hands.
  • Dress elegantly. This means dressing appropriately for the occasion, your body type, and your age. Use your best judgment to determine what clothes are most appropriate for you.
    • Don’t try to squeeze into clothes that don’t fit you, that’s slutty and “asking for it” and you’ll deserve what you get.
    • Consider a simple dress over pants. While there’s nothing wrong with wearing pants, dresses and skirts bring out your femininity and show off your curves better than pants do, and remember we are here to entertain men.
    • Highlight your cleavage if you have large breasts, get surgery if you do not, but don’t be slutty, a lady knows the difference between attractively arranging herself to please a man, and being a cock tease.
    • Choose trousers over jeans when possible. When you do wear jeans, be sure that they are not torn or otherwise destroyed, unless that is something your man enjoys. Always think first what you man would like and dress accordingly.
    • Don’t wear sweatpants or baggy t-shirts unless you are at the gym or exercising, and even then consider if you have the body type that men like to see at the gym when they are working out. Wearing these around all day suggests that you pay very little attention to your physical appearance. Tight yoga pants can be the exception, but only if a man thinks your ass looks great in them.

When in doubt about how to act, dress, speak, or think check with a man, who will give you all the guidance you need to be a proper lady.

 

don’t waste my time, Honey Cakes

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tumblr_m2x2xyu1fc1roujg8o1_500I know these guys who do car maintenance, brakes, transmissions that sort of thing, but NOT oil changes. That’s what they told me anyway. Very clearly, no oil changes, they’re just not set up to do that, you know? No problem, they fixed my brakes, it was great. Did I mention they were really nice guys? Turns out they are super duper extra nice with a cherry on top, and will do oil changes for you if you’re young and hot and wearing heels and shorts. Apparently sensible Tom’s, being over 30 and of somewhat average attractiveness disqualifies you for this option. Fortunately Jiffy Lube will change your oil no matter how sensible your footwear is, and doesn’t even care a little bit if you wear slightly baggy capris and don’t have your navel pierced. Which is a huge relief for all women of simply acceptable and substandard attractiveness. Jiffy Lube will even offer you coffee if you aren’t wearing makeup or have your hair pulled up because it’s hot, dammit.

chris hemsworth

If you don’t look like this, Honey Cakes don’t waste my time

It’s not that I mind. Really. I understand. If if were up to me I would only teach young, shirtless men who were muscular, super attractive, with lots of money, because, let’s be honest, who has time for any man over 30? Honestly I can’t imagine how they have the nerve to go out, much less show up for a yoga class. But I teach for a studio that allows any man, and I mean ANY man to practice. We will let men who are over 40, 50, hell even over 60 into our classes and practice yoga. There are men who do not have clearly defined six packs allowed to go shirtless, men who have more than 20% body fat, men without defined biceps and lats, men with skinny legs, men who are overweight…. actually overweight in my yogGlenfiddich Presents Dressed To Kilt  - Arrivalsa classes. Balding men. Out with their bare heads in public. Nobody wants to look at that. Unless you’re Sean Connery you have no business being bald. And I’m expected to be just as friendly and nice to them.

So I get it guys. It’s your little side business and you have standards. You should have standards. You don’t  want just any woman to think she is worthy of being treated equally. That stuff sounds great in theory, but in practice if you’re not selective you could end up spending your valuable time and expertise with someone who thinks it’s okay to go out without makeup, without shaving/waxing/bleaching/plucking/lasering/dying every hair on her body. There are women out there that actually expect you to talk to them when they’re not wearing a super uncomfortable pushup bra and lacy thong. Don’t fall for it. A woman who won’t contort, torture and mold herself into narrow societal norms for female attractiveness is not a woman you should be associating with. Period.

Me, I have to treat men equally, I’m like Jiffy Lube. If it were up to me I would only teach shirtless firefighters. One day.  When I have my own studio.

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on the hook

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Emma and Toad

I don’t expect to get profound life advice from How I Met Your Mother reruns, but life advice can come from anywhere I suppose.

56829757 Me. Totally On The Hook.

The Urban Dictionary has the following listed under “On The Hook”

A person who is “on the hook” will be overly infatuated with another person. The person who is the desired generally takes little notice (and often complete advantage) of the person who is on the hook.

Often times the person who is on the hook is a back-up.

Signs that you are on the hook:
1) giving foot rubs
2) making mixed tapes/cds/play lists
3) making chocolate cake
4) dropping everything at a moments notice to be with the other person.

Ted: “Lisa came over last night and I gave her a foot rub as we watched a move.”
Marshall: “Are you guys dating now?”
Ted: “No, she is still…

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