Bitch on the Blog

November 23, 2012

Mopping up

Filed under: Happiness — bitchontheblog @ 11:07
Tags: , ,

Before you read this make sure you have some tissues or a freshly starched and absorbent handkerchief ready. For your tears, not mine. I can look after my own waterfalls.

So whatever you do, don’t say a kind word to me. Please. A kind word will, currently, have me in floods. Which, no doubt, is most welcome by our local water company replenishing its supplies but not so good for you. Keep it short and crisp.

As an aside: Have come to conclusion that ‘a shoulder’ is the most useful part of anyone’s body. Argue with that if you must: I could do with a heated discussion. Or proof to the contrary.

U

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29 Comments »

  1. I unlike this post. WHAT is your problem bitch? Cry into your own starched handkerchief. An argument or heated discussion is better than this cliff hanger. (THERE. I’m doing what you want so you won’t be flooding the water works. 🙂

    Comment by bikehikebabe66 — November 23, 2012 @ 15:45 | Reply

    • Good point, Bike Hike Babe: Where is the ‘don’t like’ button?

      Sometimes kindness moves me to tears. I don’t know why. It just does. Trouble is people don’t like tears so you have to make lame excuses. Like, for example, your cat died this morning. The truly kind will not point out that you didn’t have a cat yesterday, so how come she died this morning. Quite. The English will then offer a cup of tea and the Irish a Scotch. I myself think that crying is good but it does leave the other party often quite helpless. And what people do NOT like is feeling helpless. Believe me, BHB, I have had people rage at me in the face of their “not being able to fix it”. Whatever ‘IT’ maybe. Which is good in its own way because then YOU have to comfort THEM. And make another cup of tea. What a merry merry-go-round.

      Anyway, all is good. Though will never forgive my beloved grandmother who had tears of laughter rolling down her face when we retrieved – from the oven – my rather overworked pastry I had shaped into tiny rolls and miniscule bread loaves. All had run together. I was four and couldn’t see the funny side of it at all. Still, when you love someone as much I did/do her they’ll get away with anything. Taught me that failure is not everything. And that I’d never make a master baker. Which didn’t stop all my lovely uncles, my sweet grandfather, buying all my wares on the shelf of my ‘shop’. See, here I go again: Cue a tear on account of a happy memory.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — November 23, 2012 @ 19:10 | Reply

      • Good point U. I cried when telling about my childhood with all the wonderful aunts, uncles & parents (mine) and now they are all dead. She decided I was depressed. I was at the moment.

        Comment by bikehikebabe66 — November 23, 2012 @ 19:24 | Reply

        • I messed that up. What I meant was I wasn’t depressed per se ’cause I was crying. But I was depressed at that moment, thinking my past is all DEAD.

          Comment by bikehikebabe66 — November 23, 2012 @ 19:46 | Reply

          • Dear Bike Hike Babe, in our world of psycho babble everyone is labelled ‘depressed’ when IN TRUTH all you are is sad. Sad as in sad. An emotion. And that is what you were/are when thinking of all those dear to you, now dead, and yes, in many ways, you observing your past dying with them. There is no shame in it. In the olden days you were left to your own devices of coping. Not a “one size fits all” prescription. Now if you don’t ‘move on’ five minutes after someone important to you has died they urge you to go to the doctor and get some pills. For heaven’s sake: Grief is part of life. Leave me alone and let me get on with it in my own time. Meantime pass me the photograph album, a tissue and happy memories.

            Some people understand this intuitively. And don’t load an extra burden of guilt because you shed the odd tear. Funny thing is, and try and explain that to the unsympathetic: You can be truly happy whilst feeling sad. And vice versa. Our emotions are the vibrant canvas of our lives, not some blancmange beige pasty magnolia. There I said it. Now, BHB, stand by for a lawsuit of Magnolia paint manufacturers for giving them a bad name.

            Hug,

            U

            Comment by bitchontheblog — November 24, 2012 @ 10:37 | Reply

            • You are better than a psychiatrist. You’re a wonderful phycologist. Have a diploma made, framed & hang a sign above your door. You could be in business. 🙂 (Sorry, it fits.)

              Comment by bikehikebabe66 — November 24, 2012 @ 16:15 | Reply

        • Facebook has an unlike button. I think it’s for canceling if you clicked the Like button & then changed your mind.

          Comment by bikehikebabe66 — November 24, 2012 @ 01:33 | Reply

  2. Ask someone with a frozen one!

    Comment by rummuser — November 26, 2012 @ 14:22 | Reply

    • How inventive you are, Ramana: A frozen handkerchief. After vigorous application to one’s nose rivaling that of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. How very seasonal and inspired. Not exactly the glow I am after. By some lucky genetic fluke my nose stays its original colour, even under duress and in harsh climates. Which reminds me: Some years ago, and I am still astonished at how this is possible, my myopic self was diagnosed with ‘dry eye syndrome’. Something to do with my wearing contact lenses round the clock. My eyes were so dry that, involuntarily, I had tears rolling down my cheek bones. Couldn’t believe the contradiction in terms: My poor eye ducts working overtime to counteract adversity and compensating for lack of water. I am in awe of nature. And the miracle that constitutes our bodies.

      Mind you, I had to keep reassuring people that I was perfectly happy and no cat had died in the making.

      U

      PS These days my eyesight sharing time between contact lenses and stylish glasses. No more dripping.

      Comment by bitchontheblog — November 27, 2012 @ 12:38 | Reply

      • Try frozen shoulders dear!

        Comment by rummuser — November 27, 2012 @ 13:03 | Reply

        • Frozen shoulder? What a downer, Ramana. Had never occurred to me. There you go: My life clearly sheltered. Runny noses notwithstanding.

          U

          Comment by bitchontheblog — November 28, 2012 @ 10:09 | Reply

  3. Definitely ‘Nicht alle Tassen im Schrank’!

    Barking Mad as the Insel Affen would say.

    Where is your sister’s CV? Um Gottes willen, I emailed you HOURS ago! I have a restaurant to open and need her so stop your blubbing and get on with it you teutonic b***h!

    Comment by tomgowans Gowans — November 28, 2012 @ 14:11 | Reply

    • Teutonic? What on earth gives you that idea? Just because I understand some of your more incomprehensible utterings doesn’t mean I am Aryan. Anyway, my eyes are dark brown. So there. Roast me if you must.

      My sister’s CV? What are you? The Stasi? My sister doesn’t need a CV. My sister is my sister. And believe me: Soon you’ll be blubbing too and, despite her undoubted assets, you will ask me for a refund. And share your last tissue with me.

      No, let’s tone this down a bit, appealing to the script writer in me: Let’s call my sister Claudia for the sake of argument. Marcia and Claudia will soon have a mud fight (my sister not being good at sharing – and that doesn’t just apply to home, hearth and stove). I can see it now: You handing little Alex buckets full of your damp hinterland to keep it going. Your guests so enchanted by the evening’s entertainment they won’t notice you overcharged them. In fact they’ll be tipping you. Not that the owner of any establishment should ever be tipped (other than off).

      Remind me to write a review for you. There are people on this planet who will get lost.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — November 28, 2012 @ 16:45 | Reply

  4. Sufficient lack of sympathy? If you want a frozen shoulder to cry on, I’ll give you one, A shoulder of lamb and a butcher’s saw with which to cut it up!

    Comment by tomgowans Gowans — November 28, 2012 @ 14:20 | Reply

    • Yes, Tom, I had you down as a particularly sympathetic leg. Reference Roald Dahl, short story. For maximum effect try and read it in the middle of tne night; after you, Marcia and Claudia had a bust up.

      Don’t look to me to do the carving or digging your grave. I have more tender cuts to fry.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — November 28, 2012 @ 17:00 | Reply

  5. Am lost. Why are you in need of shoulder? I have two so you may borrow one any time.

    Comment by writingfeemail — December 1, 2012 @ 19:00 | Reply

    • It’s good to be lost, Renee. That way you will look for a shoulder. Something I do not seem to be too good at. No, let’s rephrase that: Something I am rubbish at.

      Thank you for your kind offer. Though dresses won’t hang so well off you during times you let me borrow one shoulder. Just shows you: All that rush to create the world (and us) in seven days flat resulting in design faults: There should have been a spare of everything. Which is why we were given two kidneys and only one motorbike.

      U

      Comment by Ursula — December 3, 2012 @ 11:56 | Reply

      • Spare of everything, Ursula, I agree- Bugger the motorbike, I am worried about my single liver. I have two shoulders that more or less work, at least for leaning on.

        Comment by tomgowans — December 3, 2012 @ 12:18 | Reply

        • Yes, Tom, that good old workhorse, the liver.The one organ that has a remarkable capacity to renew itself. If the liver were an animal it’d probably be a donkey (in Spain or Mexico).

          If the heart is the motor, the liver is the janitor, endlessly cleaning up the damage. Till it throws in the towel because it’s had enough. Going all hard. That’s why you need to give your liver an incentive: Keep it amused whilst it’s slopping out. I, for one, shall sue your liver for damages once it gives up because it would deprive me of considerable pleasure (reading about your adventures past and present – let’s hope there is a future).

          U

          Comment by bitchontheblog — December 6, 2012 @ 12:58 | Reply

  6. awwwww, poor ursula, whats up, honey?

    Comment by kylie — December 3, 2012 @ 04:17 | Reply

    • “What’s up?” Nothing much, Kylie. Just give me Nick for breakfast (not that I eat breakfast) and I shall be fine. Only because I need diversion. Not of the kind Tom is thinking about but because I need to bite someone, anything. Get my teeth into. Mind you, and please don’t tell Nick this: Teeth are not required to savage him. He is tender and falls apart before he has hit so much as my (indeed anyone’s ) frying pan.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — December 6, 2012 @ 13:04 | Reply

  7. Love.

    Comment by Priya Dubey Sah — December 3, 2012 @ 15:42 | Reply

    • Thank you, Priya. Just what I need. Pass some of my [love] to little Bela whilst you put your feet up allowing whoever your muse is to kiss you.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — December 6, 2012 @ 13:07 | Reply

      • Putting my feet up to allow anyone to kiss me is a thing of a not-so distant past, Ursula. I do remember those days with immense wistfulness, though. Anyhow, I have passed on your love to Bela. And shall continue to do so.

        Comment by Priya Dubey Sah — December 11, 2012 @ 15:50 | Reply

  8. Gosh Ursula, do I detect weltschmerz or do I not? BTW I haven’t understood a word of this conversation.

    Yeah, Ursula. I love you. I just thought I’d mention it.

    Comment by Maria — December 4, 2012 @ 18:33 | Reply

    • Yes, Maria, “Weltschmerz” indeed. Never far away. Like “Kindergarten”. Or my least favourite but I won’t go there this minute because I find banana skins annoying and not in the least something to laugh about. Even when others slip on them.

      That you haven’t understood a word of this conversation does not reflect on you. It basically mirrors what most my readers say.

      Thanks for your love too. Apropos of nothing: Just saw someone (a man – no less) walk past with a pink umbrella. Must be the one I binned a few days ago on account of being not wind resistant.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — December 6, 2012 @ 13:12 | Reply

  9. “on account of being not wind resistant”

    Ursula, please, as foreigners we at least have to make an effort.

    Comment by tomgowans — December 6, 2012 @ 17:25 | Reply

    • I know, Tom, I know. Why do you think I haven’t been blown away yet?

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — December 6, 2012 @ 17:30 | Reply

      • Gosh, that’s so sad. Let us engage in linguistic studies and rectify this awful circumstance.

        Comment by tomgowans — December 6, 2012 @ 18:47 | Reply


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