something in the air…

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There must be something in the air at the moment, because no less than three of the blogs I follow here have posted today about the subject of depression and the associated crappy feelings that occur when it begins sneaking up again.

I won’t go into vivid detail about my own stuff right now. Those who know, already know. What goes up must come down, and I have to admit that I’ve had a good run of silly moods over the last few weeks, so this crash was inevitable. It will end, and I will be OK. The real me lurks somewhere in between the amplified neon version and the washed out sepia one. She’s elusive, but I know she exists. I will stop calling myself awful names, and I will feel positive and clear again, as I have done before. That knowledge helps already.

The artwork above is not new; I drew this a few years ago. But it does accurately illustrate how I’ve been feeling today ( ie. GRRR!), so here it is! People who have perused my art page will have already seen it, but most likely many won’t have done- especially if they’re “read it from the reader feed(er)” kinda people. So hopefully this will be new to one or two humans out there.

Sending a massive cyber hug to anyone feeling low at the moment. ( And yes, I know; a cyber hug is about as useful to a depressed person as an offer to eat a beret is to somebody suffering from vertigo. However, I’m hoping that my cyber hug has a touch of magick about it, and will somehow- on its way through the ether to you- convert into a real live one from someone lovely. )

 

T.I.P.P.P. (Things I Phind Phunny on Phriday)

Laughter. Is it better than sex?

I’ve always hated that question.

You can have a good laugh, and bad sex. Or a fake laugh, and real sex. Or a fake sex life that makes your friends laugh. Or a real laugh that makes your fake friends horny. Or electric sex. Or sexy electricity. Or drunken sex. Or sexy, funny, alcohol that’s powered by electricity. Or excessive amounts of chocolate, because they say chocolate’s a substitute for such things. Or a chocolate rabbit which, upon removal of its foil wrapper, has an amusingly phallic shape, which makes you laugh, because you’re drunk, but also leaves you oddly disturbed; causing you to ponder the Freudian meaning behind your laughter. Suddenly the lights go out. Somebody’s high-powered sex toy has shorted out the whole neighbourhood. Would would Jung make of this synchronicity?

I sort of forget where I was going with this, but surely these relatable situations serve to demonstrate that some questions just don’t have objective or definite answers.

One question I can with all confidence ask AND answer, however, is: Are funny things funny? The answer is, of course, YES.

So, in lieu of my own creative blog ideas, let me today begin a perhaps-regular-but-possibly-not-regular friday theme, in which I just talk about something somebody else did which makes me laugh and brings me joy.

Today, the laughter and joy inducing thing that I am reminded of is ‘The Micallef P(r)ogram(me)’. It aired in the late 90’s and early 2000’s, starring, as the name may suggest, the wonderful, exceptionally attractive, Shaun Micallef.

(Incidentally, Shaun Micallef has done- and still does- a bunch of great things, which I feel I should talk about…but I can’t as I need to stick with dis ting oim wroitin, roight? Roight.)

My favourite parts of this p(r)ogram(me) as a teenling were the brilliant physical comedy sketches in which Shaun’s characters seemed to be governed by bizarre, irregular laws of gravity. These still make me do one of those accidental snorty things that happen sometimes when you laugh really hard.

See below for an example of the thing I mentioned above this sentence. ( the comedy- not the snort. P.s. unfortunately, the title is a bit of a spoiler, so don’t read it) :

Or, if regular gravity and cats are more your thing, this clip from an earlier show  ( not the one I’ve been talking about, but a different one featuring Mr Micallef)  may appeal:

Note: I do feel a bit naughty linking a EweChewb video of this here, but my justification is that almost  EVERY comedy DVD I’ve bought over the last few years is actually due to me stumbling upon clips of it on The Internet first.  I neither watch nor own a TV ( those two facts being somewhat related), and rely entirely upon word-of-mouth and the interwebs to direct me to new laughs. But  lack of idiotbox or not, I am surely not the only one who utilises the internettles in such a way. Surely the worst thing that could happen here is that my linkage results in one or two new Micallef fans.  Either that, or your computer explodes and kills you the moment you click on the link, making me indirectly responsible for your death. Either way, it’s just nice to think that I may have made some sort of difference.

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Mysterious competition of mystery

As the title hints, I’m running a mysterious competition. If anybody guesses the nature of this mysterious competition, they win a mysterious prize, which is so mysterious that I can’t tell you about it. There is also no way of knowing whether you’ve entered the mysterious competition, or whether you’ve won the mysterious prize or not. But if you do win, then you will win. Or you won’t.

Good luck!

Anyway, jokes aside, that was no joke. I want to make something cool and give it away- hopefully to somebody whose name I will pull out of a hat. Or to somebody small enough to literally pull out of a hat. Or somebody of average or large size that I pull out of a very large hat…..and so on.

The “something cool” being given away will be a little mini package of miscellaneous curiosities of a mysterious, curious, and miscellaneous nature, which I have crafted in my above-ground lair ( ie. pool*) . Obviously, this is a VERY good prize.

How to enter:

  1. Comment with your best guess at how best to enter. The most imaginative comment will make me smile, and MIGHT make you win a thing. Who knows? I’m a mysterious, sexy woman.
  2.  Disregard the first step and choose to play tennis, or sniff pizza or books instead.
  3.  Await results.

Now. I do realise how ambitious I’m being here, what with my posts averaging at around 3 views apiece. But on the positive side, that greatly improves your chances of winning. Plus, it means I won’t have any trouble fitting all the names into my hat** ( unless you have a REALLY long name ) .

Just to tempt all one or two of you, here is a list of example things that you may already have won in the future after you entered my competition, when time became (becomes?) nonlinear and crocheted up into a mothball-scented time doily on the antique coffee-table of the cosmos .

A:  a type of game- invented by me ( possibly unplayable) to play with your friends and family. Maybe there will be cards? Maybe round dice?  Maybe it’ll just be a sudoku only one square across. Maybe something very different to that. But whatever it is, it’ll be non-stop FUN. And VERY mysterious.

B:  Something arty, like art. A drawing, for example. Or some stickers I made.  Or an imaginary product I invented, complete with beautiful packaging, to distract from the disappointment that the product doesn’t exist.

C:  Something crafty, like a woollen testicle.

D: A little story, all stapled together like a miniature book, with a little cover and everything. When you put it with all your bigger books, they coo and sigh over the cuteness of the little book, but unbeknownst to them, the little book is…. evil.

Oh, it starts off subtlely enough. You get home; you wonder: “Where’s the budgie?”. There’s no way of proving that a tiny book ate your bird, despite your understandable suspicions.

Next day it’s:  “I thought I had two cats..”. You don’t want to think that sweet wee booky is responsible…so you put it out of your mind.

But when Aunty Mim disappears and you find her semi-digested walking cane by the bookshelf, you know you can’t run from the truth any longer. You make plans to destroy the Little Book.

Unluckily for you, Little Book is able to read your mind, and thwarts your plan to throw it onto the fire, by eating a banana and strategically throwing the skin on the floor by the hearth…

Unluckily for Little Book, you are also rather talented in the psychic department, and thwart its attempts by failing to buy bananas in the first place.

Little Book decides to take matters into its own hands, and goes to the market to buy some narnies. But the moment it leaves, you lock the door behind it, knowing it can’t get back in, because it’s too short to reach the handle.

Unfortunately for you, Little Book plans to eat you the moment you next open the door. You must now stay inside your house FOREVER.

Unfortunately for  Little Book, you’re a recluse who doesn’t mind.

Little Book starves to death on your doorstep, and you live out the remainder of your days a happy recluse/ internet shopping addict.

The End.

E:  An egg…. in the shape of an egg.

F: Laundry detergent that makes your clothes smell like you could be my uncle. Everyone will comment on it, and in a weird way it will bring us closer together; almost as though you actually were my uncle, and I, your favourite niece or nephew, or aunty. You’ll end up adopting me, and teaching me how to smoke cigars and build a Harry Potter themed model train station. What dear memories we shall carve into the tree-trunk of the future, which we shall look back on warmly when it becomes the past. etc. etc.

 

So there you have it.  A very clear and concise set of instructions. You know what must be done.

Note: You have 2 weeks in which to enter. If nobody enters, I will enter the competition myself, and await my announcement that I have won. When I receive my prize, I will devote a blog post to gloating over my win, and you will all be very jealous.

* I cannot be held responsible for any water damage your prize may have sustained.

** A cat ran off with my hat. Suggest an alternative vessel. An extra prize will be awarded to the besty suggesty.