Bitch on the Blog

May 25, 2011

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Filed under: Despair — bitchontheblog @ 19:06

As one does I have realised a nmber of things – unrelated.

Firstly: Con is no fun. If he were a piece of cinder he’d burn just fine. If he were my brother I’d put a certain question to my mother.

Secondly: Don’t flatter yourself, Con. You and Ramana swapping places? What is this? Ramana may have shortcomings but he doesn’t shake people off as one does pesky flies. No doubt, you, Con, will have one of those fly zappers (plastic) on hand at all times. One of my brother’s-in-law does too, being an OXEN – albeit of a sweet temperament. Until he spots a fly.

Thirdly: Got so lost on Con, have now forgotten. This is what the Cons of this world do to you: One moment you have a brilliant thought the next you are conned (what BHB calls “A senior moment” – I am too young for senior moments so don’t know what my excuse is). Let’s fly over to storm ridden States and hope – as I write – that Jean is unwrapping those bones. Don’t know what I am talking about? That comes from not paying attention.

Talking of which BHB has sent me a colour test to see where on the scale of the dreaded Alzheimer I am. I refuse to do that test. Haven’t even looked at it. I don’t want to know. I am falling apart as it is without it needing to be confirmed. Even my mother (three weeks older than BHB) mentioned Alzheimers last Sunday. My parents are the least likely of everyone I know to succumb. They won’t. Which didn’t stop her from making an impassioned argument why Alzheimer is a reason to top yourself . Naturally, I pointed out to her that by the time it’s set in you’ll be the only one NOT to recognize it for what it is. She, as only she can, insisted that she’d know before crossing the borderline. Brilliant. Whatever. Keep doing Soduko or whatever people of a certain age do.

It’s still not come back to me what was to constitute the center piece of this post. Never mind. At least we have established that Con is no fun. Sorry, Carol. There is ONE question on my mind. It’s so awful even I can’t mouth or commit it to ‘paper’. What’s the question? What did I tell my mother? Before they’ll be Alzheimered I’ll be down six foot under.

Hugs, kisses, before it’s too late and I won’t recognize any of you; if I need nursing please do volunteer GM for the job. She’ll enjoy it.




  1. Sometimes I think you are the highest maintenance person I know. Then I realize that I don’t have to do anything at all – at least not intentionally – to star on your stage.

    That’s good, because I have a shitload of work on my plate right now. I know … work is no fun.

    And, by the way, you don’t really take this oxen crap seriously, do you?

    Comment by Conrad — May 27, 2011 @ 01:02 | Reply

    • My dear Con, you are right: You don’t have to do much at all to stay center on my stage. You know why? Because you have done a lot already. Still, even if I say so myself, it’s good to hear from you. Spirits need to be kept high at all times. Even when a little windy up there top mast.

      I am happy for you that you have “a shitload of work” on your plate right now. Wish I did. Correction, I do. But not of the paid variety. Steep valley I am claiming. Not much of a view down yet.

      And no, I don’t take ‘crap’ seriously, most certainly not goats, yet NOT taking an oxen seriously you do so at your peril: They don’t like it. They will raise a hoof – and stamp on your tender tootsies. And you know how many bones there are in the HUMAN foot to be squashed, don’t you? Yes, the human foot: If ever there was a fine engineering miracle; expected to heave even the heaviest of us through life. Clearly one of those seven days’ (thousands of years) finer moments.


      Comment by Ursula — May 27, 2011 @ 08:34 | Reply

    • I take oxen crap seriously…It makes wonderful manure. Mind you, thanks to the chemical companies, it is the straw that is suspect these days!

      Comment by magpie11 — June 1, 2011 @ 10:21 | Reply

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