Bitch on the Blog

July 12, 2017

Expansive

One of the fairies at my cradle made sure that I’d never be bored.

Her intention was good. In practice it brings problems. None of which can’t be solved; but problems nevertheless. The main one being that I waste (how does one define “waste”?) on wastes of space. I do I do I do. Because I never give up. And if there is one adage I cling to like a calf following her mother’s udder it’s that only the boring are bored. That way you dig your own bore.

Be still, my beating heart.

In the motherland there is a saying, and I have no idea what it means but it sounds good: Den inneren Schweinehund ueberwinden. Roughly translated: To overcome your inner swine (where the dog comes into it I do not know). It’s taking me forever (the present continuous wisely chosen) to overcome my swine’s dog – but, I am getting there. With regret, I shall concede that some in blogland (no, not ye, my faithfuls) will bore. Even me. Actually, that’s not true at all. The more boring the more amusing and interesting they are. In a sort of forensic research type of way.

Hugs and hisses,

U

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August 9, 2012

Deja Vue

Filed under: Human condition — bitchontheblog @ 16:02
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Have reached critical mass. Can’t remember what I have already said, on this blog and in my and other comment boxes. All I can rely on now is that my readers’ memory is even worse than mine. Not that I bore easily. Myself, that is.

Minds work differently. My mother and I will go over family history and anecdotes ad nauseam. We enjoy it. My father – whose mind is legendary – has to refer to his wife (that’s my mother) for any dates. As do I. Once she is gone both my father and I will be stuffed. We will not know who married whom when why and when was the last time I saw Uncle Whoever and at what occasion. It fills me with dread. What she knows I cannot google.

Would be good if we could preserve people’s brains. Or rather their content. Mind you: The world would be a bit like that pot of semolina in the fairy tale. Overspill. Slowly covering the village in white sticky goo.

U

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