Archives For Bloggers

Winging it

Madame Weebles —  May 13, 2013 — 141 Comments

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!

Simply A-Meizing

Madame Weebles —  January 26, 2013 — 36 Comments

January is a big month for birthdays on the blogosphere.cake

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

Madame Weebles —  January 10, 2013 — 213 Comments

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!!

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!

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.

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!

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:

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.
Continue Reading…

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?

I don’t like to brag…

Madame Weebles —  November 15, 2012 — 55 Comments

…but I’m going to do it anyway.

And this also gives me an opportunity to promote two great bloggers whom I read regularly.

First, there’s Mike (aka heylookawriterfellow), a children’s author who recently came out with a great book called Sarah Gives Thanks: How Thanksgiving Became a National HolidayI’m fortunate enough to have an autographed copy of this gem.   If you have school-age kids who like history (or even if they don’t), get them this book.

Mike has a worthy goal: the boycotting of children’s books by celebrity “authors”—actors, athletes, musicians, etc., who fancy themselves as “authors” and put out books just because they can.  These folks get a decidedly unfair advantage—their fame guarantees them a publisher, PR, and books sales.  It isn’t fair to authors who have poured their heart and soul into their work.  Read his cogent and convincing argument here.

Mike recently held a contest to create an new acronym for his cause, because he didn’t like the sound of BCCBA (Boycott Celebrity Children’s Book Association).   And lo and behold, my entry—HACKS (Humans Against Celebrity Kid Stories)—was the winner!  But let me tell you, I was up against some tough competition—click here to read the other excellent entries.

So that’s Brag #1.  Now for Brag #2.

Another author, legionwriter, just completed a fiction series called “Unlike Our Waking Lives.”  It’s a surreal, creepy tale that I highly recommend.  Click here to read the first part and proceed from there.  By Part 3, I speculated on where I thought the story was going next.  But it was so eerie and cryptic, it could have gone anywhere, really.

Turns out, though, that my guess was right!  Yay me!   And Yay to Legion for a great read.  If you haven’t already, please visit his blog.  He’s a beautiful, evocative writer.

This concludes today’s brag.  Thank you for humoring me.  Now go visit their blogs.

The idea for this challenge came from the ingenious mind of Honie Briggs.  Thank you, Honie!

Below are photos of ten women.  Nine of them are my beautiful friends.  One of them is me, the camera-averse Madame Weebles.  Your challenge:  Figure out Where’s Weebs?

You’ll notice these are all black & white photos and I’ve cropped out details like hair, etc.  I’ve also stripped each photo of EXIF and all other metadata, in case you were thinking about trying to get some clues that way.  But to give you a sporting chance, here are some hints to help you out:  I’m white, and I sometimes wear glasses.  Sometimes.  So I may or may not be wearing them in my photo.

Each donation you make to the Bloggers to Movember team will buy you a chance to guess which one is me.  Put your cursor over each photo for the hovertext number to use in your guessYou can enter up to three guesses, but you’ll need to make a donation for each guess.  It’s only fair!

If you’re in the United States, click here to donate.  If you’re in Canada, click here to donate.  When you fill out your donation form, please leave a note with your blogger name and include “Where’s Weebs” so I know who you are.

Le Clown set the bar pretty high; he’s already more than halfway to his goal of $1000 in donations.  I, too, would like to get $1000 in donations for our team, but I’m pretty easy (just ask Mr. Weebles).  Any amount I can raise for this worthy cause will be wonderful.

Of all the correct guesses, I’ll choose one winner at random.  If you win, not only will you get eternal bragging rights, but you will also get A WEEBLE OF YOUR VERY OWN, from my vast collection.

Please enter your guesses below.  You have until November 30th.  Let the games begin!