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Archive for April, 2009

One thing about blokes from Oz is that their hearts and humour are
always in the right place!
 
T. B. Bechtel, a City Councillor from Newcastle, Australia, was
asked on a local live radio talk show, just what he thought about the
allegations of torture of suspected terrorists.

His reply prompted his ejection from the studio, but to thunderous
applause from the audience.
 
HIS STATEMENT:
‘If hooking up one raghead terrorist prisoner’s testicles to a car
battery to get the truth out of the lying little camelshagger will save
just one Australian life, then I have only three things to say,’
‘Red is positive,
Black is negative, and
Make sure his nuts are wet.’

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growing-old

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black-sheepEvery family has a black sheep. Mine is no exception. My little brother is the proverbial black sheep.

He used to appear at the most ungodly hours knocking at my door, asking for money. “You´ve got money sister, you work, I need it to cover up my debts or I´ll end up in prison”. It was blackmail, no more and no less. Because of course, much as I would like to send him to hell and face the consequences of his acts once and for all, I could not stand the thought of my mother travelling to jail to see her imprisoned son.  He took to ask my redneck in-laws for money, too.

When I moved, I asked everyone not to give him my address and telephone numbers; I simply wanted him out of my life forever.

So far I have succeed; but just so far.

Because my sisters are celebrating their daughters ´ first communion at my house. And one of them has spilled the beans: he told the black sheep all about it. And the black sheep has grabbed his chance all right.  He phoned my mother and poured his heart out, his unhappiness at being left out, his not understanding why his beloved sister does not want to see him again.

And so I am back to the emotional blackmail: either I accept the black sheep in my house, or my mother will not come. I will make everyone unhappy: the black sheep who do so loves me, my sisters, my daughters, my nieces who want to be with their grannie will be deprived of her company, everyone will be unhappy…. and it´s all my fault.

I am the most cruel of daughters, the most cruel of sisters, the most cruel person on Earth.

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Glory days

Today the twins decided to open a box that had remained unopened for years,  forgotten since the day we packed our things and moved. It was full of letters, school reports,  library passes. And there it was. It was taken on a Monday morning, the morning after Easter Sunday. It was a tradition on such days to go on pilgrimage to a hill to eat and dance around a strangely shaped big granite rock.  A pagan festival, dating back to pre-Christian times.

And there we were, a bunch of youngsters sitting cross-legged on the grass under the oaks, casually dressed in faded Levi´s and T- shirts, pullovers tied carelessly around our waists, with our bright young faces turned to the spring sun.

So gloriously young, so gloriously happy and carefree.

Andrew, the boy with the burning black eyes who was the first boy who ever tried to French kiss me. Henry and his girlfriend Lou, always so posh. Mick, with hs mane of curly brown hair and green eyes.  Moses, the one standing up, who was my parent´s  godson. Xavier, straw-haired Jara, who used to follow me everywhere when I was way out of hand to see that I was safe and come to no harm. Tony, who played the guitar so beautifully and who looked so much like Ringo Starr, nose and all.  Ginny, with her long blonde hair and whose teats all the rest of us girls envied. Mary, the blue eyed freckled little one. John, always so serious. Angel, who was so sweet and kind, always laughing and always generous.

And I.  The one half hidden behind Charlie, because I didn´t like to be photographed.  The one who was to become a stranger, because she was terrified of needles.

I never consciously realised that all the friends of my youth are dead. That not one of them ever reached adulthood.

But how can they be dead, when I can still see Xavier running on the beach, trying to evade the waves. When Tony still plays The house of the rising sun under the moonlight, while I sing Oh, mother, tell your children not to do what I have done.  When Titus and I still wade fully dressed across the sea, drinking vodka from the bottle and fishing conchies and kissing.

How alive we are, Titus and I. In the clear, warm, sweet afternoon, when time does not exist and future and past do not exist. The world does not exist, nothing is real outside us both kissing endlessly, holding our hands, oblivious of everything and everyone. Nothing exists outside his shining golden eyes locked with mine. Nothing exists outside our lips and our mouths, kisses sweeter than life, tasting of vodka and marijuana.

We were alive.

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Jerusalem the Golden

This is one of the most beautiful songs ever written sung by one of the most beautiful voices in the world. And one of my favourites of all times

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I told you once

I told thee once

 thou wouldst never lose me,

I would stand by thee for ever,

I would accept whatever thou desired

even if it be those  cold words thou gavest me.

I told thee once

thou were so very special

 like that rare perfect blue diamond

whose shining splendour dazes the admiring eyes.

 

Fare thee well, my friend.

 

I told thee once thou would never lose me

unless thou wanted me out of thy life.

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I don´t know where my friend got them from. But they´re smashing!

1. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.

2. Ignoranus (n.): A person who’s both stupid and an asshole.

3. Intaxication (n.): Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.

4. Reintarnation (n.): Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

5. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

6. Foreploy (n.): Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

7. Giraffiti (n.): Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

8. Sarchasm (n.): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the Person who doesn’t get it.

9. Inoculatte (v.): To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

10. Osteopornosis (n.): A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

11. Karmageddon (n.): It’s like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it’s like, a serious bummer.

12. Decafalon (n.): The gruelling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

13. Glibido (n.): All talk and no action.

14. Dopeler effect (n.): The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

15. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you’ve accidentally walked through a spider web.

16. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

17. Caterpallor (n.): The colour you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you’re eating.

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