Tuesday, 19. August 2008, 13:59:42
comic, silly
...Thought of Mik:
...Thought of Carol:
...Thought of Clint:
...Thought it was funny cause I hate them:
...Giggled:
...Thought it was hilarious:
...Cracked up:
...Thought of emo kids and laughed:
...Choked on my tea:
Thursday, 14. August 2008, 16:52:22
silly, random weekly crapola
This week's word is another personal favourite of mine, resurrected for me today after I ran out of words to display my anger! Yes!
Are you sitting comfortably? Now. Say it with me, children:
Pleb!
Good! Now we'll put it into a sentence! Say it with me:
"You're cutting the poo off Fluffy's bottom-fur to make a wig for Sally! You pleb!"
Excellent!
And another:
"Don't eat that off the floor, pleb!"
Well done! Now please write those into your exercise books!
Timmy! That's not the proper way to do cursive! We all know that it is joined up writing, don't we children? And what hasn't Timmy done? That's right, joined it up! And what do we call Timmy, children?
Correct! PLEB!
A gold star for everyone 
!
Not YOU, Timmy.
Not you.
Wednesday, 13. August 2008, 19:03:29
story, silly
Can you feel that? The earth is shaking! Is it an earthquake?? Or... Oh god, do you hear it?
That wailing! That can only mean one thing!
...quick, cover the windows with these planks of wood we keep around for seemingly no reason at all! What? Oh, the nail gun is just over there on that bureau, we always keep one in plain sight. Quickly, now! I just heard the Jones' front window shatter, they're only a few doors down!
Hmmm? Oh, this happens every few weeks or so... We don't like to mention its name. What do you mean, "why not?"? Because it may hear us! It rampages enough as it is! We've tried everything to calm it, you know! Nothing works! Trust me, the best thing you can do is just ride it out.
Are you done with boarding up the windows yet? Good. OH FOR GOD'S SAKE, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! THAT!!! THERE!!! YOU LEFT ICE-CREAM OUT!?! NEXT YOU'LL BE TELLING ME THERE'S A CAKE IN THE OVEN AND A BAR OF CHOCOLATE ON THE PORCH!!
...you're kidding. Oh, PLEASE say you're having a moronic joke!! ....NO, THERE'S NO TIME! JUST PRAY IT'LL PASS US BY!!!
...you idiot. Come here! Do you see that? Yes, that's it! Notice the torn plaid shirt. Yeah, I know it's huge. See that shining on it's face there? That's a tear. I told you, it's unconsolable. No, you idiot, we're not inviting it in! Are you insane? What do you mean "it's just a girl"?! Boy, you have a lot to learn. For one, sonny, that ain't no regular girl. It's a behemoth, and a distressed one, at that. Two, we don't leave sugary comfort food lying about around here. It may just look sad, but that thing's violent!
Hmmm? Oh, the sack? Well, you'll notice the construction label there. You'll be too young to remember, but I worked there for a long time, years ago. Until THAT came along.
*CRASH!*
I know. I saw.
...yes, it always throws bricks. Always with a man-hating message. I've got them collected. How many? About thirty or so, so far. You'll see one for yourself soon enough. So will everyone else within the next 9 blocks. Did you hear all those windows breaking? That's what it is. YES, THE BRICKS! It's the same every time.
Oh god, the wailing again! Cover your ears, boy, for the love of Pete! What? No! It's an expression! Nobody! No, I'm not in love with a fella! I outta slap you! *sigh*
...you did board up the door, didn't you, kid? YES, YOU FOOL, I DID TELL YOU! Oh for Go...
*CRASH!*
Yes, Sherlock, that was a brick coming through the glass. Get away from the door. And away from the food. If we're quiet and don't interfere, it'll eat until there's no food left, and leave...
No! Idiot! Leave the Ben & Jerry's! It's too late! You can't take it from the monster! It'll see you! It's not worth it! OH GOD, IT SEES YOU! LOOK BEHIND YOU!! NO! MAAAAAAAARK!!!
.......
(c) Kimmie 2008
Click here for Part 2. Click here for Part 3. Click here for Part 4. Click here for Part 5. Click here for Part 6. Click here for Part 7. Click here for Part 8. Click here for Part 9. Click here for Part 10. Click here for Part 11. Click here for Part 12.
Saturday, 2. August 2008, 16:04:57
my.opera, silly
I don't know about some of you, but personally, I got the blues lately. I used to post overpersonal, long, awkward posts about how I felt, but things have changed now.
Seems like so many of us are so very blue lately. Some of us have reasons, some of us just feel this way. Some of us talk about it, some of us hide behind other things and attempt to be outwardly okay.
Well, here's a little idea, inspired by Mik and Clint's little "Opera Duel" (Mik said the first one to PM Demiphonic with the lyrics to I'm A Little Teapot would win - Clint won) - we're going to play a little Opera Dare.
If you wanna play Opera Dare, comment here, okay? Perhaps we can get a little fun! It'll work like this: One of us will come up with a dare. The first one out of all the participants to do it will direct everyone to the proof, and as a reward for doing the dare they will choose the next one.
The game commences soon. Be prepared...
Thursday, 31. July 2008, 16:43:39
rants, my.opera, my life, silly
Dear 3,
Your phone service is such an experience. Many a time I recant our correspondence - me, explaining very simply, a problem - and you, talking too fast, making promises and feeding me unbelievable lies and not knowing what the hell you're going on about.
I am writing to tell you that you make me mad.
I have decided that it's in both of our best interests for me to seek another network. I know we should be civil and mature about this, but when I think of doing so, the many idle hours wasted due to your idiotic negligence springs to mind.
I feel I should give you my reason, as we spent so much time together, and I'll tell you - it took me seven minutes to get to each watched item on my favourite site today. Sometimes those seven minutes would result in a request time-out. It then took me seven minutes to comment, sometimes those would not go through.
I have had to forego family and friends on IM for a while, as you would not allow me access to my applications.
So, goodbye. I will never be near you again. I shall be adult about this...
PPPPPFFFFFFFTTT!
I've left you for a network that knows how to please a phonie. You never knew where my access points were, and T-Mobile does everything you can't!!
HA!
- Kimmie.
Oh yes, peeps, the weird one...
is back...
Sunday, 27. July 2008, 09:36:57
silly, photos
Wednesday, 16. July 2008, 15:16:25
personal, love, my life, silly
My Grandmother is my mother - she adopted me when I was two, and we've been close forever. She's a strict Mormon, but recently, readily accepts my views on all things in this world. Since I started to talk openly with her, as I realised lying to spare her feelings and worry was worse, we've bonded a great deal and we're very honest with one another. This has broadened her way of thinking, and we've become so much closer for it.
With these spectrum changes, came a new side of Gran:
BAD GRAN!
Imagine, if you will, an almost saintly grandmother/mum. She does not tolerate swear words, nor any lewd thinking. Add a dash of suddenly honest and trusting granddaughter she counts only as a daughter, and, well... Sometimes, she surprises you rather suddenly and unexpectedly...
Gran: "Kimberley, will you cut up some missionaries for me?"
Me: "WHAT?!"
Gran: "I meant mushrooms!"
*She looks troubled*
Me: "What's up?"
Gran: (stoney-faced) *shows middle finger*
Me: *looks completely shocked*
Gran: (realisation dawns slowly and she goes bright red) "No! No, I didn't mean it like that!"
(both laugh)
(In the middle of a very full supermarket, she says loudly) "if you don't let me pay for my milk I'll lie on this floor and kick and scream!" (everybody stares and I die of embarrassment)
Gran: "Oh, we forgot that you need to put some eye drops in my eyes!"
Me: "Oh yeah. Hang on, I'll get them."
(I return with the drops)
"Right, are you ready? Keep your eyes open. Okay?
Gran: (nods)
*I go to put the drops in and she doesn't stop blinking*
Me: "STOP BLINKING!!"
Gran: (agrees and blinks more rapidly)
Me: (Puts a drop in one eye, she jumps, we both laugh)
"Did it go in? Are you gonna sit still for this one?"
Gran: "Promise"
Me: (I go to put the drops in her other eye and she keeps it shut.)
In front of our ENTIRE family at a Christmas gathering - "JUST LOOK at Kimberley's sausage hands!" *grabs my hand and shows it to everyone*
Standing behind me in the queue at the supermarket, she butts the trolley into my hip absent mindedly repeatedly...
Me: (screaming suddenly, sounding livid, yet smiling) "STOP BUMPING ME WITH THE TROLLEY!!"
*Gran grins evilly*
Gran: (upon opening a catalogue just recieved through the mail, she pulls out a leaflet) "Do you want this? I don't want stuff from stupid Trinny and Susannah!"
Me: "No, I hate them." *grins* "And it's not Trinny and Susannah, it's Tranny and Susannah."
Gran: "Oh, Tranny, is it?" *walks out of the room, happily corrected*
....
*Then storms back in a few seconds later, whacking me over the head with a bloody huge catalogue for tricking her*
Randomly: "Kim, your cat is weird. Like you!"
And finally, after her operation last year, we went to look after her and make sure she was okay. She'd been rather unlike herself so we accompanied her to a doctors appointment (I had to coax her into making, I might add).
She went in, and came back into the reception with a little form on depression, and a small container for a urine sample. She fills out the form, and visits the facilities. While she's in the toilet, Mik and I go over her answers. She has lied, making out she's not been feeling down.
She comes back and we call her on it. She argues, gets mad, we don't give in.
"Fine!" she huffs, ripping the form from my hands, slamming the container of urine down on the table in a fit. As we're busting with laughter she grudgingly changes her answers, then crosses her arms and pretends to be in a strop like a small child.
Then, she shakes the container of wee at me as I try to get away.
And while this is happening, we hear, over the intercom, "Mrs Jayes to the yellow door. Mrs Jayes to the yellow door..."
By now you can see that she's a rascal!
But it's all good. I threaten to kill her, beat her with random objects and poo in her food on a weekly basis so we're even.
So now, in closing, I'll leave you with this little instance:
Gran turns to me and has this look on her face like a mischievous toddler, grinning:
"I like it when you call me, "Bad Gran""
Tuesday, 15. July 2008, 22:35:54
personal, rants, my life, silly
....and God wept.
Tears of laughter, the mean git!
.
...Doesn't matter where. Doesn't matter when. Old people tell me things.
I do see old people. They're everywhere.
Imagine this - you're a doddery old lady or gentleman in your late seventies. You're at a shop. Perhaps you're feeling lonely. And rather chatty.
Do you:
a) Totter over to the nice girl stocking the shelves to engage in conversation under the veil of produce talk,
b) Try to spy a neighbour you've seen once,
c) Talk to random groceries,
d) Find a nice, friendly looking customer to make small talk with,
or,
e) Make a beeline for the sulky girl shooting looks of hatred at everyone, dressed entirely in black, skulls on her clothes, with gothy makeup and outrageous coloured hair who obviously wants to get her shopping and get the hell out as soon as possible?
Well, apparently quite a few choose option e. When I say a few, I mean a lot.
Everytime Mik leaves me in an aisle for one second, I am trapped by citizens of the elderly persuasion.
They potter over to me as soon as he's gone.
They tell me it's a wonder I'm not married yet, I'm obviously a good shopper and would make some man a good wife.
They ask me where the beetroot is, even when they've asked if I worked there and I've answered them with a no. They then proceed, after asking several times, to tell me how they use beetroot and how wonderful it is.
They inform me, in great detail, that the Soy Milk I'm buying gives them the most shocking diahorrea. And continue into the details, even though it's plain that the flavour of said milk is actually chocolate.
They tell me about their sister that they've not seen in twenty years, because she lives in Canada. But they never really got along very well, to be honest, and it all started back in '63...
They tell me that their daughter loves this kind of candy, but they prefer these ones because they suck off the chocolate and give the toffee to their terrier called Noodles. They got Noodles one day passing a pet shop. It's actually a very interesting story - they left their house, meaning to go along a different road, but it was blocked off, so they went down this road instead where they chatted to Mabel. And they walked down another road to just outside the pet shop...
Despite my protests that I do not like pork, they tell me their secret recipe for pork, which is incidentally the top-secret combination of pork chops and salt. Then they tell me the story of discovery for this profound recipe.
They tell me to eat this kind of fish because it's their favourite. I really should try it, no, honestly, it's lovely, I'd really enjoy it. (Because they know so much about me in the five minutes they've been jabbering on at me without me being able to utter a word).
I. Don't. Like. People! Is my attire, body language and overall demeanour something different to you people? Do you see smiles where there are growls? Rainbows where there are skulls? Where there are bits of random stuff in my hair, do you see daisy-chains?? WHAT?!! WHAT DO YOU SEE?!!
I'm not equipped to handle close encounters of the wrinkled-kind, it frightens me!
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