Winging it

I started this blog in February 2012. I didn’t have any real vision for this thing, I just wanted to start writing again. As time went on I tried out a few different approaches but none of them took. So I decided to wing it. It’s worked out pretty well. I tend to wing it with most things in life, come to think of it, so why not here?

See, I don’t have a “hook” or a consistent theme like a lot of other bloggers have. I don’t have kids. I haven’t experienced many serious life challenges or traumas (and I know I’m very lucky). I’m not an artist or poet or fiction writer. So it’s just me winging it and writing about whatever. I’m not complaining, mind you; Fear No Weebles has become an eclectic, eccentric mix of Fuck You posts, Hot Dead People, ranting, activism, history, satire, paranormal stuff, and other random shit. I dig it.

As you can see, I also gave the blog a makeover. I wanted a darker, haunted house-ish sort of vibe. I considered a brighter, happier vibe with a cute theme but then I remembered that I’m not Mary Fucking Sunshine.

This is what I think of Little Miss Sunshine.

 
So here we are. As usual, my thanks to this guy for his help in getting my blog sorted out, and as always, my heartfelt thanks to all of you for visiting time and time again.

Coming Soon:  A Hot Dead Extravaganza!

A Magnificent™ Birthday Tribute to His Magnificence™

Welcome to Le Clown‘s birthday celebration bonanza!  This is only one of a series of posts brought to you by The Ringmistress, me, and many other bloggers to be discovered later.

I’m not even going to try to match the level of spectacular that Le Clown reached in his birthday post for me.  I know when I’m beat.  So I decided to switch things up.

As most of you know, Le Clown is a rabid fan of Star Wars.  More specifically, he’s a rabid fan of all things Sith.  Knowing this, I thought it would be nice to compose a special birthday haiku for him in the Sith language*:

Nice, right?

Then it occurred to me that to commemorate the birthday of such a magnificent™ soul, I should do something more grand and extravagant—something more befitting Le Clown.  After much meditating, pondering, tinkering, and ice cream eating, I came up with this:

This is the very first video I’ve ever done.  It took me ages to figure out how to do it, but I did it just for Le Clown.  I assume that George Lucas has already viewed it and is now curled up in the fetal position weeping over what could have been.

To my partner in crime and my best guy after Mr. Weebles:  May your 43rd year bring you health, happiness, and prosperity.  May you have much peace, love, and joy.  And may you have a metric assload of poutine.

So, as I said at the beginning, this is part of a whole celebration series.  There are two additional things before you can move on to the next post. First, I need to give you a letter as part of a password that Sara devised.  Second, I need to point you in the direction of the next blogger.

It’s diffiCult to Come up with a Clever way to provide a Clue about the seCret letter without aCtually Coming out and telling you or saying it aCCidentally.  Maybe if I ConCentrate and foCus you’ll magiCally piCk up the psychiC vibes.

As for your next blog visit, I present the following hints for your consideration:

Your fellow Canuck, she’s off the hook
She’s 5’9″ and lookin’ fine
Funny as hell, we know her well
She’s the bees’ knees, if you please

Now go and forth and enjoy.  Happy birthday, my friend.

*English translation:
It’s Eric’s birthday
Cake, presents, celebration
All that festive crap

Simply A-Meizing

January is a big month for birthdays on the blogosphere.

Today happens to be the birthday of one of my blogging besties, Meizac.  I met her through Le Clown (who else?) when she was cursed lucky enough to be chosen as his Personal Assistant for the week.  We started following each other’s blogs, then we became Facebook friends, and then we became real friends—even though we have yet to meet in person.

For those of you who follow Meizac, you know she is a tough broad in so many ways.  For starters, she could kick my ass in her sleep.  She boxes, she does kettlebells, and she did Tough Mudder last year.  If you don’t know what Tough Mudder is, picture the Marines’ physical training but with louder outfits.  Seriously, look at this shit.  She’s completely badass.

She’s in graduate school.  She teaches.  She’s the mother of two insanely precocious and adorable kids.  She cooks and bakes.  She’s Wonder Woman With Curly Hair, for fuck’s sake.  And throughout her life, she’s slogged through more mud, jumped over more hurdles, and clawed her way through more obstacles than anyone who isn’t a Navy SEAL.  If you read her blog, you know what I mean.  To go through everything she’s gone through, and to come out so phenomenally on the other side, is a true testament to the stuff she’s made of.  She’s an extraordinarily beautiful woman in every way.  And she’s much funnier than she realizes.  If I didn’t love her I’d hate her guts.

For my birthday, she made a video of herself doing 45 snatches (one of the unfortunately but hilariously named kettlebell moves) while wearing Jesus Jello labels all over herself.  I can’t possibly top that.  So I hope this post will do.

Happy birthday, my Curly Sister.  I am honored and privileged to be your friend.

Well shit, people

I’m sitting here crying like a little bitch.  And it’s all Le Clown’s fault.  Look at this post.

That’s right, 45 years ago today, Madame Weebles was unleashed on the world.  I know, you thought I was a lot older.  I get that a lot.

So here I am, reading this EPIC birthday post that Le Clown wrote—he also managed to assemble an All-Star roster of bloggers to participate.   Birthday greetings would have been fantastic enough, but there are videos, fancy poems, photos, artwork…holy fuck, it’s incredible.  I can’t even imagine how much time and effort it took for Eric—or for any of you—to do this, but I am stunned and moved and flabbergasted and tickled pink and purple by all of it.  Good thing I hadn’t put on any makeup yet because otherwise I’d look like this:

Seriously, this is amazing.  You’re amazing.  I feel amazed.

Big hugs, sloppy kisses with tongue, inappropriate groping, “inadvertent” pressing up against you, and a flash of the boobs, to the following people (apologies for not linking to you, otherwise I’d be here all day): Le Clown, Sara, Fish, Darla, Boomie, Brigitte, Speaker7 (and Hugo), Rutabaga, Brother Jon, Adam, Carrie, Robin, Meizac, Honie, Timmer, Calahan, Emily, JM, Curmudgeon, Limmster, Bumble, Bill McMorrow, Ericka, Elyse, Vanessa, Margarita, Michelle, John Erickson, Guap, Leo, Joe Hoover, Misslisted, GingerSnaap, Tania, Jen Tonic, Becca, Marie, Cathy, La La, Vyvacious, Val, Red and Mrs. Red, Wendy, LouAnn, Rich, Tracy, Frank, and Nicole.

Many sleazy warm fuzzies to everyone who left birthday comments on the post as well!

Yeah, I laughed, I cried, I laughed, I went “AWWWWWW!!!!!”, I cried, I laughed, I cried.  I went through a box of tissues.  And they weren’t Puffs with Lotion, so now my nose is all red like Le Clown’s.

I don’t even know what to do with myself.  I’m beyond verklempt.  I’m zerklempt.  Thank you all, so so so so so much.  Even if I get viciously murdered later today, you’ve still made this the best day I could ever hope for.  Really, I’m not kidding.  A million thank yous.

And on a final, bittersweet note, please send your very best juju to my mom, the woman who did most of the hard work 45 years ago.  Mom is starting chemo today, and we all know how much fun that is.

I love you all madly.  Come on over to my place tonight for cake and a group bath!!

An aviation birthday greeting

For Mr. John Erickson, my fellow WWII and military aircraft fan:

Hawker Hurricane
Avro Lancaster
P-38 Lightning (I’m omitting the “Lockheed” here so I can get this one in)
Piper L-4 Grasshoppper
Yokosuka MXY7 Ohka

Boeing B-17
Ilyushin IL-2
Republic P-47 Thunderbolt
Tupolev Tu-2
Horten Ho 229
De Havilland Mosquito
Arado Ar 234
Yakovlev Yak-9

Junkers Ju 87
Oh damn, I can’t think of a plane that begins with O
Heinkel He 111
Northrop P-61 Black Widow

May you run like a Merlin engine, soar like a B-29, and kick ass like a P-51 Mustang!

Addendum: Fuck you, censorship

Those of you who caught my Fuck You post very early this morning saw an additional photo that was later removed by WordPress, presumably because someone found it offensive.  It was a photo of a B-2 Stealth bomber dropping a load of bombs, with the caption, “Die, Motherfuckers.”  I had the photo next to the paragraph about cancer—I put it in that spot deliberately.  Someone obviously didn’t like it.

I’ve read the WP Terms of Service, and it says that as WP users we agree that “the Content is not pornographic, does not contain threats or incite violence, and does not violate the privacy or publicity rights of any third party…”

Following this logic, what exactly is inappropriate about that photo?  Is it really hate content?  Surely nobody thinks that my photo is threatening or inciting readers to steal a bomber and drop a few payloads on innocent people.  Yes, we are all aware of the shooting that took place in Connecticut.  It’s awful and tragic.  But are we so dainty that we can’t use violent or evocative images? And in a different context?  There’s nothing funny about bombs or war, and I think we all understand that.  Look at the photo without the caption:

Is it offensive?  Some might think so.  But I doubt it’s a problem on its own.  But if I add the words “Die, Motherfuckers” to the photo, it’s suddenly an item to be censored.  Never mind that anyone reading my post would understand the context.  Never mind that anyone who’s ever read my blog—certainly anyone who has ever read one of my Fuck You rants—knows where I’m coming from.

In any case, it’s censorship.  Plain and simple.  Fuck censorship.

Blog readers tend to be smart people.  If they don’t like something in a post, they don’t have to read it.  They are also well within their rights to comment and say, “Madame Weebles, that photo was really over the top.”  Is that not sufficient?

So, to the person at WordPress who removed my photo (and they don’t notify you, by the way—the photo just disappears), thanks so much for giving me another subject to rant about.  I know you’ve removed photos from other blogs too.  Hell, I guess I should be thankful you haven’t censored entire posts of mine, given the screeds I’m prone to writing.  But perhaps you should amend the Terms of Service to say, “Do not post images or content that could be considered offensive to any person, in any way, shape or form.”

Fuck censorship, man.

Foolishness and felicitations

Today’s music:  Jimmy Buffett – Cheeseburger in Paradise

Today’s post is a little out of the ordinary, to celebrate the birthday of someone who is also out of the ordinary.

(With apologies to the author of the original Mother’s Day poem)

E is for the Excellent guy he is
L is for the Limericks that he writes

G is for the Groovy songs he posts
U is for the UTube vids he shares
A is for the fifth letter in BRRRAAAAAIIINNNNSSSS!!!
P is for the Polls he has each week
O is for Oh My God, I can’t believe he bungee jumped

Put them all together, they spell EL GUAPO
A blogger that means the world to us!

Happy birthday, buddy!

Please click here to send your birthday wishes to El G!

Where’s Weebs? The big reveal

First, a great big THANK YOU to everyone who donated to Movember—between the US and Canadian teams, we raised more than $1,500! And an equally big THANK YOU to everyone who participated by growing a ‘stache, writing a Movember blog post, reblogging or tweeting Movember posts, etc.  It was a magnificent effort by all (and no, Le Clown, I’m not paying you royalties for using your word).

And thank you to everyone who participated in the Where’s Weebs? challenge.  I’ve had a lot of fun with this and hope you did too.

To refresh your memory, here were the ten photos you had to choose from:

And here’s how you guessed:

Number 1:   4 guesses
Number 2:   1 guess
Number 3:   3 guesses
Number 4:   8 guesses
Number 5:   3 guesses
Number 6:   2 guesses
Number 7:   1 guess
Number 8:   1 guess
Number 9:   9 guesses
Number 10:  2 guesses

Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for…

But first, here’s a bunny.

Just a few more seconds…

Wait, I forgot to show you this photo of a baby elephant.  Isn’t he the CUTEST???

All righty, here we go now.

Sorry, those are kittens.  My bad.

Okay, this time I mean it.  Wait for it…

Yeah, I’m #5.

Apparently this is not what you were expecting, because only three of you picked photo #5.  I know, I know, you’re thinking, “What the fuck, Weebs?  You’re smiling for the camera?!”  Yeah, I know.  But I had just brushed my teeth and I wanted to show off.

Hearty congratulations to the winners: Mike, John the Aussie, and Cathy.  Well done!  Each of you will receive a Weeble of your very own!

I suspect more people might have guessed correctly if I had posted this photo instead:

And as I promised, I’m also posting a photo of me with a mustache.  I have to admit, it does make me look quite dashing and really enhances my look. I’m just not sure I’m ready for the responsibility of having a mustache on a full-time basis.  It’s a lot to work and a lot of upkeep.  So I might just continue to go clean-shaven.

And now that you’ve seen not one, not two, but THREE photos of me, chances are excellent that you’ll never see another.  Because as you know, I hate the whole photo thing.  This was a great experience, for a great cause, and I don’t regret it.  But I’m going to go breathe into a paper bag now.

That which vexes me today. Also, some announcements

First, that which vexes me today:

Over the past several years I’ve noticed a disturbing trend among newscasters and other media folk regarding the pronunciation of certain words.

It started with the words “harass” and “harassment.”  My understanding was that they were pronounced “har-ASS” and “har-ASS-ment.”  Then reporters started saying them differently all of a sudden: “HAR-ris” and “HAR-ris-ment.”

A similar thing happened with the word “details.”  I’ve always pronounced it “DEE-tails,” as does everyone else I know.  Except that on television, they now say “deh-TAILS.”

Two of the latest words to get a verbal makeover are “coyote” and “Neanderthal. ” Instead of “ky-OH-tee,” it’s “KY-oat.”  And “Nee-AN-der-THAL” has morphed into “Nee-AN-der-TALL.”  Yeah, yeah, I know, in other languages you don’t pronounce the “h” when it immediately follows a “t.”  I don’t care.  I’m not speaking other languages.

Also, obviously these people haven’t been watching enough Looney Tunes; Wile E. Coyote himself always said “Ky-OH-tay”—which I assume is a regional thing, but it’s still in the spirit of the original pronunciation.

I mean, what the fuck?  Who decided on this change, and why?  These newfangled pronunciations sound pretentious and stupid. As if I needed another reason to loathe people.

I don’t like it. I will continue to say these words as I always have. And if I have to, I will launch a grassroots campaign to stop the madness and to make sure no other words are so cruelly mangled.

And now, some announcements.

First, tune in tomorrow for the Great Unveiling—when I reveal to the world which of the ten photos seen in the Where’s Weebs? contest is, in fact, Weebs.

Secondly (and much more excitingly), I am titillated and overjoyed to announce my upcoming collaboration with two spectacular women…

Throughout history, there have been many legendary trios:

Rush
FDR, Churchill, and Stalin
The Three Musketeers
The Three Magi
Larry, Curly, and Moe

Soon, another three will join their ranks:

Madame Weebles, Speaker7, and Jen Tonic

That’s right, you read correctly.  Start taking your vitamins now so you can handle the awesome.

Knowledge that will enrich your life

Not really.  Well, maybe.

I’m doing a post soon to thank and acknowledge everyone who has bestowed awards upon me.  When other bloggers accept awards, I enjoy reading their “10 things about me” or “answers to 7 questions” usually associated with the awards.  I like knowing about people’s quirks, random likes and dislikes, answers to wacky questions, etc.  So I decided to write a bunch of stuff about myself in lieu of doing the awards ones.

So here it is, a bunch of random shit about me:

• Whole portobello mushrooms scare me.  I’ll eat them, but not if they’re whole.  When they’re whole they look like little aliens and they creep me out.
• I’m an only child.  People ask me, “What’s it like to be an only child?”  I never know how to answer because I have no other frame of reference.  All I can say is, it was good.  And no, I wasn’t a spoiled brat—my parents made sure of that.
• For some reason I have a fascination with Victorian undergarments.  All those corsets and stays and petticoats and stuff.  Despite the fact that they were probably extremely uncomfortable.
• I love pistachio ice cream, but I dislike pistachio nuts.
• I detest honey (sorry, bees, I still love you).  Just the smell of it makes me queasy and hurts my teeth.
• When I was a kid I played the piano.  I haven’t played in years, so it would take me ages to get my chops back.  But I’d love to learn how to play the harpsichord and the pipe organ.   I’d have to buy a really ornate candelabra for that, though.
• Despite playing piano for many years, I utterly suck at reading music.  I literally still have to count the bars on the music to see which note it is:  “Okay, that’s one, two bars up, above the bar, so that’s an A.”  It’s brutal.  For me it’s much easier to play by ear.
• Third and final music-related fact: I’ve composed a jazz tune, although I haven’t actually written it down or arranged it yet.  It mysteriously started composing itself in my head when I was about 8 or 9.  I have no idea why.  It’s nothing I’ve ever heard, and to my knowledge it isn’t a song that already exists.  It’s a ragtime-style piece, and over time it wrote itself, adding more passages every so often.  The song is finished now, and I can hear the whole thing in my head with all the instruments.
• My elbows are double-jointed.  Mr. Weebles finds it alarming.  (And sadly, I am double-jointed in no other areas.)
• My favorite curse word is “motherfucker.”
• I cry whenever I watch movies or TV shows where animals are hurt.  Even if they’re computer-generated animals.  I sobbed my guts out at Godzilla, and I refuse to watch King Kong or Mighty Joe Young.
• Even though I’ve seen every episode eleventeen million times, I still laugh out loud at I Love Lucy, Seinfeld, and The Golden Girls.
• I really love practical jokes, as long as they’re not mean.  That’s the one thing I really miss about office life—playing pranks on my coworkers.

So there you have it—random info about Weebs.  It feels a little self-absorbed to do this but you know what?  It was fun.

But enough about me.  Let’s talk about you.  What do YOU want to know about me?