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I Prefer Stumps.

Previously posted by at Blissimo.

bitd1
You know living near the beach in a freaking hot country brings its own kind of problems.  (You may need to get a hanky for this one, or have a friend there to hold you while you weep.)
In Canada, we worry about things like, “if you don’t put enough socks on when you go outside, you could lose all your toes to frostbite.”  Then you end up with stumps and you walk funny.  People always blamed the cowboy boots and riding horses for the funny way cowboys walk, but the truth is they didn’t listen to their moms, lost their toes to frostbite and now have stumps to walk on.  You try walking in Cowboy boots with stumps and see how funny you look.  (Please feel free to give a big shout out to moms here and the fact they do, indeed, know it all and should be obeyed.  Not MY mom necessarily, but me .. as a mom…)

bitd 2 
And when your toes are freezing to death and turning black, you actually don’t feel it … because your toes are frozen … so it is like your mouth after needles at the dentist, nature appears to be gently taking you in her loving arms (despite the fact she is a mom too and you disrespected your mom by not listening to her, she is so benevolent that she holds you anyway) and shields you from the pain.   She even does it without a needle jab that takes away from the “painless” part of their advertising because the needles themselves hurt like hell but somewhere someone sees logic in saying, “let us stick you over and over again with this huge sharp metal, in places in your mouth where we are probably poking bone, so that we can keep you from pain.”   Ya, you are out there tobogganing and snowmobiling and having a great time and someone says, “hey Bliss, how are your toes?”  You can’t feel them so being as you tucked them into socks and a boot, you say, “they feel great.”  It is only  when you go home and take your socks off and see these blackened lumps attached to your foot, and then they begin to thaw, that you realize that all mothers stick together and Mother Nature was just playing with you in a really sick, sadistic kind of way.  And then your mom follows you around while you are crawling around on the floor, trying to crawl out of your body and escape the pain saying, “I told you so.  Why don’t you kids ever listen to me?”   Even when you have a slight freeze, if you are stupid enough to stick your hands in warm water thinking, “I am so cold, I want my hands warm now!” you will learn about pain that can blow your mind.
That is what life prepared me for.  I was raised by stump people,  so basically, what the heck did I know about beach sand?
I do now.
I trotted after hubby as he walked out to the water.  I had my special shoes on for swimming.  They quickly filled with sand and were half on and half off my feet.   Sand drifts are much less fluffy than snow drifts and unlike boots which can keep snow out, sand gets in everywhere.  I tried to walk with them sliding this way and that and the sand was getting deeper and deeper and my shoes would not even say on my feet.  So I took my shoes off. 
Then about half way between the car and the water I felt the burn on that really tender part of the foot that normally never touches the ground … and the more I ran, the more the sand seemed to mold  itself to that exact spot.  I tried to put the shoes back on but I was standing out in the middle of a whole desert of sand that had been in the sun for a bazillion years and that sand was so hot that I could feel it through the shoes and when it flowed into the shoes they just held the heat right against the spot.  I took them off again and looked at the car, looked at the water and panicked.  I could run to the water and cool them or run back to the car and cry.  And then everything got blurry and I guess I ran to the water because I came to with my feet steaming in the ocean. 
Hubby wanted to know what was wrong.  I looked at his feet and hated him.
And I tried to enjoy my day at the beach, I really did.
bitd 3
But I couldn’t let go of the knowledge I had to walk back across the sand to get to the car and I was not sure the blisters on my arches were going to withstand sand ripping them open and pushing its freaking hotness against the raw skin.
I am beginning to think there may be some organic type reasoning behind why Australians drink as much as they do – snakes, sharks, spider and sand …..
SKIN:  ::Modish:: Mia Skins
PARTS:  SLink
EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
LASHES:  MIASNOW Eyelashes – FANTASY CURLS
HAIR:  (NO) French Braid Pigtails
BRACELET:  CUFF BANGLE PLATED SILVER       –RYCA-
EARRINGS:  Hatpins Gacha – Rose Quartz Arrow Earrings
DRESS:  SAS – Alexis Pack No. 1 1
BOOTS:  ODDITY OVERKNEE -Shiffer- Leather Lace
POSES:  MiaMai


Visit http://bliss-imo.blogspot.com/2016/05/i-prefer-stumps.html for original post date.

Timeless Fashion.

Previously posted by at Blissimo.

fuy2
Sometimes our moms made us wear pants underneath our dresses when we went to school because none of them wanted to ever have to go to the church weekly “quilting lunch kits for underprivileged kids” mornings and be the woman whose daughter froze to death in the middle of the prairies one winter because you sent her to school with bare legs.  The stigma of that was almost as bad as if you were the one quilter who could not make your stitches all the same size.  They made those women wear a scarlet letter.  Frozen daughters was frowned upon and some of those ladies were power frowners.
I still have nightmares.

And it was always the fault of the mom.  Mom’s are responsible for everything and no-one understands that better than a Canadian woman, hence we travel the world apologizing for everything, to everyone.  
“Hello, my name is Mary, and you are?”
“I’m sorry, my name is Aria.”
“I don’t think we’ve met before, have we?”
“I’m sorry, no, never.”
I mean we went to school on a fully heated school bus with  30 or so other kids.  We went down roads that connected farms.  The airplane had been invented.  People had snowmobiles and phones were on the wall but they worked. 
Most of the kids on the bus were wearing enough clothes that they could take off 3 layers and still survive an ice age without any frostbite.  We could huddle.  We knew about fire and how to make it.  Do you have any idea how sound carries when there is nothing but fields of snow around you for as far as you can see and then some?
I hated wearing pants underneath my dress.  I took them off as soon as I was out of view of the parental units.  If I showed up in school wearing them everyone would have called me a “retard.”  
I find it really depressing that my grandmother was 50 years ahead of everyone else with fashion and that no-one laughs at people wearing pants or leggings under dresses anymore.  I think it is all because we have cell phones and the danger of freezing to death on the way to school is nowhere nearly as bad.  
fuy1
Ya, it is either that or we just don’t care about kids as much anymore.

SKIN:  [the Skinnery] Hilde – Bare face (honey)
PARTS:  SLink

EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
LASHES:  Tameless Lashes 22
HAIR:  rezology Eunoia (mesh hair)
DRESS:  tomoto, dress charlotte
LEGGINGS:  Izzie’s – Sheer Tights
PURSE:  Anachron – Kinchaku Gacha – Green Hills (6)
SHOES:  SAS – Cheeky Shoe Fatpack (Slink High) – GATCHA
HAIR FLOWER:  Poute– Floret  Hair Clip- White
LOCATION:  Lollygagger Lane


Visit http://bliss-imo.blogspot.com/2016/04/timeless-fashion.html for original post date.

Time Out – At The Beach.

Previously posted by at Blissimo.

siltw2a
It has been a bad week, what can I say?  You know there is the bad type of week where you recognize you are having a bad time and you need help, and so you stop and take yourself to the beach and spend some time walking along it, getting everything into perspective?   And you breathe in and out, deep breaths, and the world suddenly falls into perspective again and this rainbow cone of beautiful light suddenly envelopes you and unicorns appear and angels sing? You come back from those recoveries not only able to cope with the crap in your life but you can “ommm” your way through rush hour traffic or numerous herds of cows all over the road.  You can take the most hateful teenager and crochet homilies and life lessons into their brains in between the swear words they are hurling at you until you are both sitting down and eating homemade cookies and drinking milk and the teen apologizes, tells you they love you and that you are the best mom ever.  You even use your quiet inside voice with your aging mother when she tells you, again – the over and over type of again – that you look like you have put on weight and you should have married the minister’s son. 

Those are the types of recoveries where you look at your library full of the manuals and tapes you gathered at all the Eckhart Tolle type of seminars you attended over the years and don’t feel at all resentful that they represent enough money thrown away spent to have probably allowed you to buy peace and happiness, or at least the drugs that would make you hallucinate enough that your whole world seemed like you were always at the beach … with the unicorns. After such a perfect day taking time for yourself, you know, that even though you can’t remember a damn thing from any seminar that you are supposed to do to obtain a perfectly peaceful life, that something had to slip in and work because here you are, back from the beach, healing the world with your calm, peaceful presence.
OK, like that never even happens.  Faking it ’til you make it just pisses me off.  But I am trying really hard to be open to the idea that good things can happen and that they may even actually happen in other people’s lives … sometimes ….as unfair as that would be… and that good people are somehow able to allow the happiness of others to not just make them even more bitter.

Nope, there are no types of bad weeks.  Just one.  The “it completely sucks” type of week.  Often these drag on for months and even years.  You go to the beach and it is crowded with laughing happy people.  So you bury a couple of kids completely in the sand and throw yapping dogs in for the sharks.  It doesn’t help to calm you down but at least you are doing something about your out of control emotions.  You are sharing them.   In meaningful, productive ways.
And the thing is that the bad day has nothing to do with you.  You are a complete victim.  It is all the other assholes in the world that infringe on your peaceful happy existence.  Case in point . .. your husband … breathing.
siltw1

So in conclusions, I would like to end this debate by stating that Yes, I am all for assisted dying.

Especially if I get to assist the people I think should die.
DeeTaleZ*Appliers* LeLuka Heads “Face Heaven” European
HAIR:  .Shi Hair : Blown {Monochrome . Unisex}
EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
LASHES:  Boom
TATTOO:  [White~Widow] Suspicion – Black
DRESS:  .::PiCHi::. LELA Dress
EARRINGS:  MG – Earrings – Amalfi Summer Nights
BOOTS:  ISON – leather strap boots (taupe gray)


Visit http://bliss-imo.blogspot.com/2016/04/time-out-at-beach.html for original post date.

Do You Feel What I Feel?

Previously posted by at Blissimo.

witl2a 
I have to ask, when people say things like “look great, feel even better” regarding second life clothes they bought from marketplace … what does that mean?  I have visions of people sitting there, putting the dress on their avi and then stroking their computer screen.    Do they know that computer screens are not like those books we had as kids … scratch and sniff?  I guess it doesn’t stop people from trying.

witl1a 
Or do they mean that they feel better because they look great.  I don’t know about you but my avatar Bliss is really starting to get on my last nerve – standing there – looking so great like she is all that.  I don’t feel great and if she is going to claim she does . . . well that makes me even more angry.
What if it is an invitation for people to feel her and see if she is great.  Isn’t that called pimping?  No wait, without money it might be “unwanted sexual touch,” but then if she wants it, then she is just a slut right?  They really might be encouraging people to feel one another.
 Let’s go with that.  I want to complain about that one.
So first of all, it means that computer screen will have finger marks all over them.  I wonder if you could lift those prints off a screen and take them in as proof that your partner was physically trying to interact with the naked bodies on the screen . . . you know, if you wanted a divorce or something. Can people go to hell for trying to physically interact?
You could rent a forklift and hide it behind the dirty laundry and wait until about 1:30 AM and then use it to break through the metal basement door and push the couch barricade out of the way and surprise him one night to see if he is really doing some work from the office every night until 4 AM.  And if he was “trying to feel” his fingerprints would be all over the screen and that would be irrefutable evidence, right?  You could whip out the thank-you fingerprinting gift you got for buying the CSI bath and hand towel set off the shopping channel and take it down to the police station.  THAT would get the ball rolling.
I just want to put it out there that I think it is kind of dumb to say some outfit “looks great and feels even better” when neither you nor the avi can technically feel anything.  It is kind of making fun of a feeling challenged entity isn’t it?  Why isn’t someone having a fund-raiser for all of us?  This is really sad if you think about it.  We deserve to be able to feel . . . and if we can’t do that . . . we should be given a bunch of money at the very least.  I live in a 1st world and I have problems dammit!
That way we could all go to Disneyland or something . . . and just hug Tinkerbell and feel.
I would appreciate it if some of you would get right on this and organize all the designers and set up some kind of a Go-Fund thing for those people who don’t buy clothes because they are always naked.  They should be able to give too or that you be like even more tragedy and we would have to have a fund-raiser for them for not being able to raise funds for people who can’t feel, even though that is them too.
witl3a
Damn, I have a headache again.
Just mail me my cheque when it is ready and I promise to send you all a picture of me at Disneyland, feeling Mickey, twinkling, and stuff.  We can cry together at how beautiful it all is and let those people who missed out on giving know that a second trip to Disneyland would be awesome too.  You can feel really good about bringing just a little bit of happiness into the life of an unfeeling person.  Call me, I will let you hug Bliss.  
SKIN:  DeeTaleZ Skin A.T.W. Gemma as Persephone Mixedtype
PARTS:  SLink
HAIR:  *booN Lab.007 hair brown
EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
LASHES:  Boom
DRESS:  SAS – Joelle HUD Dress (Mesh)
SHOES:  ~Black Arts~Jackie Platsforms
JEWLLERY:  / f:L / – Princess Set w/PearlsandOpals


Visit http://bliss-imo.blogspot.com/2016/04/do-you-feel-what-i-feel.html for original post date.

High Definition.

Previously posted by at Blissimo.

hot pink 3a
I never got the whole deal with trolls.  I thought they were butt ugly and their arms didn’t even bend.  Barbie bent.  I was into bending.  Blame it on Romper Room – ” . . . Bend and stretch, reach for the sky ….”
When you are raised in the wilds of the prairies of Canada, you learn things about life.  Like road kill.  I know stuff about road kill that no-one should know.  I learned that things that no longer bend . . . are probably dead.
We weren’t allowed to undress in daylight.  Once when my brother got in trouble for masturbating I suggested it was so dark when we had to get undressed how the hell else would we be able to find “it” unless we searched for “it” with our hands. . . and then . . . If you have OCD or something . . . reaching for “it” repeatedly would not mean necessarily that you were going to hell . . . would it?

hot pink 1a
That’s when I learned about rhetorical questions and also that you may think you are helping your big brother but you actually aren’t, so don’t . . . ever again . . .
There is a reason so many people on the prairies buy those memory enhancement programs.  Without that help, many people would not even know where to find their junk anymore.
If I left Barbie undressed in the toy box, I was in big trouble.  What if the minister came over for dinner?  I asked them if they thought it was really appropriate for the minister to be rummaging through my toy box, in my room, unsupervised and hello … weren’t they supposed to be protecting me from stranger danger and not promoting opportunities?  He was never going to know Barbie was a whore unless they said he should go and search my toy box for evidence of  prostitutes as we were fresh out of possessed people or witches for him to exorcise.   I pointed out that they frequently asked my brother “What the hell possessed you to think you could do that?” which is pretty much grounds for the minister could work on him.
They were always worried that my brother was going to see Barbie.  Evidently plastic bumps are a real turn on for 30 year old men.  I told them at some point they were going to have to accept he was through puberty and no-one had died, it was safe for us all to release the chastity belts.  My poor brother was not allowed to play with Barbie unless they could find someone to come and dress Barbie for him and hand her to him, after she undid the blind fold and released him from the box that they kept him in under a rock . .. . a dark box of course  . . . with his hands tied above his head so he was not tempted.
They even went snakey if I left my baby dolls naked.  Other kids were able to clean up their rooms and start on their Bible Study right away.  It always took me an extra hour just to make sure all the dolls were dressed properly and the teddy bears tufts of hair covered everything before I was allowed to do Bible Study.   (oh wait … I may have encouraged that practice just a bit)
hot pink 2
The thing that never made sense, and scarred me for life, was that they didn’t care about two dolls . . . Trolls and Ken.  Those could be butt naked.  No-one cared about what skewed idea seeing  amputated male anatomy might do for a child.  Or how a child might be confused between those two, which one was the handsome prince she was supposed to marry one day.  
I asked a lot of questions about why it was such a bad thing to like girls.  Basically the grandparents just confused the heck out of me with all their rules and “going to hell-otes.”  Seemed to me that whore Barbie was the only one having any fun with her life.  I wanted to be just like Barbie, only with better definition.
SKIN:  Lara Hurley-Dani Dark
PARTS:  SLink
HAIR:  rezology  Peekaboo
EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
LASHES:  [Hush] BONUS Lush Lashes
TOP:  ISON – spy top (snow)
PANTS:  ISON– spy pants (snow)
JEWELLERY:  Cae :: Entangled :: Ensemble
BOOTS:  [:ME:] Jen’s Ankle Shoes White

FURNITURE:  [CIRCA] – Flower Power Event -“BLOOM” Items


Visit http://bliss-imo.blogspot.com/2016/04/high-definition.html for original post date.

The Tail End of Life

Previously posted by at Blissimo.

red horse 1 
Despite some of you playing the new fun internet game of “guess how this picture ties in with what Biss is writing about,” this is not a blog post detailing how I am a horses ass . . . at least not intentionally.  If I do my job well today I am hoping you will join with me in saying my neighbour is one.
I am pretty sure I am awesome.  I mean I like hanging out with me.  What’s not to love about me?

Even if none of that is true, I kind of appreciate that most days I am allowed to seep in my delusions, without any interruptions from some bratty kid/brother/adult who is telling on you or telling you what you should be doing and how if you keep doing “that” you are going to end up just like your Aunt Judy.  (note:  NEVER interrupt the parent telling you that by insisting that you actually admire Aunt Judy, and she seems to be a lot more balanced and happy than the person lecturing you does.  Some enlightenment tidbits are best kept to yourself.  They are stardust sprinkles just for you!)

red horse 2 
Mostly I just do me and am never forced to confront any issues with that whole process.  There has to be some blessings from becoming a complete recluse (that is the term people like me use to describe ourselves – it actually means a person that no-one else can stand and so no-one wants to hang with you any way.)
Well didn’t that just go to hell in a handbasket today?? I mean my being alone and being fine.
We have been blessed to be without neighbours for quite some time.  Having new ones is a great imposition on us and I have to say I think more people should just get used to losing money on houses they invest in and not make having them rented out the holy grail of happiness.  They should appreciate small things … like how nice the “for rent” sign looks in the yard, and how it complements the colours of the house.  Or that the house is always neat and tidy and they won’t have to paint it all the time, or have the carpets cleaned, or go through all the nastiness of inspecting it and evicting tenants. That kind of peace of mind is gold!
AND, if you have to have neighbours, they should either build some kind of fence or laser field to protect you from having to see their actions OR reactions.  I can see eyes roll from about 1.8 miles away.  It really hurts my feelings and I am getting older and pretty soon now people need to start caring about my feelings and responding to me like they do to fluffy kitties and cute puppies and baby ducks.  
There I was just grooving to some of my iTune collections, “shuffling” my way through my priceless, decades old collections and feeling the musical journey I was on and I realized the neighbours had dropped their drinks from their hands and were looking over towards our house, horrified.  This was brought to my attention because I heard glass breaking, followed by, “OH. MY. GOD!!”  Of course I immediately assumed that their God had landed on my roof which was the only plausible explanation one could reach from the clues they provided.  What else could it have been?

They quickly gathered up their things and rushed into the house, leaving me to logically believe a couple more things.  1.  They were in big trouble with their God, being as they were running to hide from him/her/it, and 2.  Yet again, no-one had bothered telling me about any impending Second Coming or rapture, and I was clearly still not invited.

I immediately started scouring the internet for some feel good posters about how people who are not raptured are actually the most special people and we should all just “let it go.”  (in this case, it would be “let them go.”)  Then I called to make sure my kids were all still home.  I wasn’t sure whether I should feel really happy about that in that they were still here or really crappy, as in I obviously sucked at being a good mom and they were going to go to hell with me.

 But then later that afternoon I overheard the woman talking on the phone to someone and she said,  “Nothing says Sunday morning like listening to a bunch of seniors next door rocking it to some lame song with the lyrics “get yourself a bad boy.”  Seriously, some old lady singing along with ” If you like it innovative,  better get someone creative honey,  and if you want it to be jammin’,  gotta get somebody slammin’ baby .”  EWWWWWWWWW!”   And then there was a bunch of laughing.  Then she flipped back her two toned hair and tossed her head and rolled her eyes.

She couldn’t see me, but I flipped her the bird.
red horse 3
I looked at my Backstreet Boys poster and wept … for a kinder time …. and more understanding neighbours.  A.J still had fresh lipstick smudges, that I wiped away with a bit of tissue, before I blew my nose.
I hate young people. 
SKIN:  [the Skinnery] Meysha – Bare face
PARTS:  SLink
HAIR:  rezology  May Rose
EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
LASHES:  [Hush] BONUS Lush Lashes
GOWN:  **SD** Hope Gown 


Visit http://bliss-imo.blogspot.com/2016/04/the-tail-end-of-life.html for original post date.

These Aren’t Bees But …

Previously posted by at Blissimo.

ottg2a 
Hubby likes to make sure that he gets really natural foods.  We used to get our honey from the markets and a little stall complete with a woman wearing a bee costume, with black and yellow signage and a  declaration signed by some 1000 bees, authenticating that they have picked her picture out of a 12 face line-up as the woman who had indeed, stolen their honey.    She had bandages all over her body with penned wording and arrows stating “bee stings” and she had pollen on the end of her nose … well we all hoped to God it was pollen, and we assumed, but no-one ever actually authenticated it.
She swore her honey was raw and natural.
I bought her Kool-Aid.   I totally was into it.  And I enjoyed her honey.

Then hubby saw a sign on a little fruit and veg mom and pop stand that said “100% natural honey.”  He was drawn to it because it was open 6 days a week as opposed to the one day each weekend for a few hours,  when the markets were on.  Apparently it was a real inconvenience to have to go on a weekend, that one time a year when the 12 gallon drum of honey he bought there last year ran out.  He had to check it out.
He came home with new honey that he was very impressed with, despite the fact it came in a bucket identical to the one we had always bought, looked exactly the same, and the seal had not yet been broken so there was no way he could have tasted it to verify it was all he wanted.
It was.
All he wanted …. and more . . .
It had dead bees floating in.
He was thrilled.
Who knew.  Dead bees and other floaty debris is evidently rock solid proof that something is raw and natural.  No-one had even strained it.  This, of course, meant that it would be the best honey ever and whatever honey is supposed to do for you, was going to happen.  He was going to grow hair or maybe even learn how to read directions or levitate or something.
I am already perfect so it would be wasted on me.  I just like some on my toast now and then.  I don’t think you are allowed to have your toast condiments that are sweet and sugary be the secret Himalayan health bonanzarama.  It has to contain some kind of Yak blook, tree bark, and bitter snot from freeze dried frogs that have been eaten and pooped out by some feral cat . . . to be REAL health food.
He wanted me to taste it. 
I made him pick out the bees on account of my not wanting to pick them out of my teeth later on, and I reluctantly touched my tongue to the spoon he offered me.  I don’t do honey without toast soldiers.   It was the ultimate sacrifice on my part.
A few minutes later my ears, nose, throat and eyes were on fire and I was coughing.  My throat felt a little constricted and I was reminded that I am allergic to bees.  Even just errant bee arms floating in honey … evidently.   And then I was reminded that I had let my Epi pen expire and I realized I needed to find the Benadryl bottle in the next 3.4 seconds or I might die.
You can swear a lot in 3.4 seconds.  And I would just like to point out that all those nights spent chugging beer at the old canal, did NOT go to waste.  THAT talent may have saved my life.  I chugged that Benadryl like a pro, despite the years.  Not a single skill had been lost.
I lived.
And now, I will watch my hubby eating his honey and bee limbs, from behind a safety barrier.  I will shop for myself.  I will avoid the natural, healthy section because I need to live.  I prefer lying naturalists with fake natural honey.   Besides, I liked that the other lady cared enough to dress up.   She may not be a real bee but she is as close as I can probably get to one.  It makes me feel normal.  Handicapped people like me live for those few tender moments when we can just be like everyone else.
I think it is rude that my husband kind of snorted his coffee and almost choked when I just typed that.
I told him to go eat his bees knees and leave me alone.  I almost died for crying out loud.
ottg3a
SKIN:  DeeTaleZ  Skin A.T.W. Kisha
HAIR:  [monso] My Hair – Lea
EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
LASHES:  Boom
DRESS:  Ghee Summer Silk & Lace Dress CORAL
NECKLACE:  *AvaWay*_Gzhel Heart_Folk Jewelry Set
HAT:  AlaFolie Bergera
BUTTERFLIES:  Persefona All in butterflies  –  SET (mix 4)


Visit http://bliss-imo.blogspot.com/2016/04/these-arent-bees-but.html for original post date.

I See Dragons.

Previously posted by at Blissimo.

SEE 2 
I always thought fog was this really cool special effects that life sometimes gave us as kids, so we could play scary games and imagine monsters unseen, just beyond the trees where the fog obliterated our view.  It felt brave to wander off, wooden sword drawn, ready to do battle with dragons or demons … Or my brother.
Turns out it is a scientific, nature thing.
I hate how they ruined all the childhood magic by making us learn science and insisting we did not have magical powers and that it is silly to be afraid of dragons.
I may have been awarded an “A” for putting down the answers the teachers wanted to hear, but I never let them take my soul.  I held on to my magic, AND dragons.

I know that dragons still lurk everywhere .  If you don’t, then I just feel sad for you.  I bet you drive around and all you see are cows, an occasional bear and lots of road kill. 
You would have to give up on dragons if you no longer believe you have special powers.  I use mine all the time, hence I still see dragons and know when they are near.  Sometimes I even get to use my special powers ON actual dragons.
There was this lady the other day at the grocery store who was yap yap yapping about everyone and everything, telling everyone within the five mile radius over which her voice could be heard, about her neighbour, her sister, her husband, her kids, the school board who is plotting against her, the city council that is out to get her, and the police who are corrupt as hell. 
I was just trying to buy my groceries. 
People around me were looking to the heavens and whispering things under their breath.  They were moving closer together and huddling , the way people do when they are bout to be eaten by a dragon.   I  knew something had to be done to save the day.  Even though I did not have my magical sword with me in my purse, I walked up to the woman and told her,  “I see dragons.  I see you.  I have magical powers and if I use them on you, you are going to turn into fruit fly and this store just sprayed all the fruit.  I will take this apple and fruit fly spray you to death.  You will die young, even for a fruit fly.”
SEE 1
I can’t explain why or how the magic works.  It just does.
This is why you should all tinfoil your heads in science class.  Never surrender.
SKIN:  Lumae :: Jewel – 3 – Rosy // Draven
PARTS:  SLink
HAIR:  [enVOGUE] – HAIR Nicole – Light Blondes
EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
LASHES:  [Hush] BONUS Lush Lashes
OUTFIT:  YELIZ MESH “GIGI” Jacket/Pant/Heels(Glass/Scarf HUD
RING:  *AvaWay* Ring # 4 Promo Jewelry
EARRINGS:  Earring DIR Gold    –RYCA


Visit http://bliss-imo.blogspot.com/2016/03/i-see-dragons.html for original post date.

February 15th, Get A Life You Romantic Delusional Idiot You – Day

Previously posted at Blissimo.

Feb15 1
Guess what comes after Valentine’s Day?
A whole bunch of NOT Valentine’s Day.  
You can wrap up your hope chest in tissue paper and put it away for another year, this years Valentine’s Day, not unlike the recent End of the Earth Barbeque or the Rapture Quilting Bee, was a big non event.
Prince Charming was a no show.
Face it, once the glow is off  that chocolate looks disgusting, no matter how bright and shiny the wrappings they put it in.  Not only is the smoke machine turned off,  there is always a big freaking bowl of disappointment cooking on the stove in place of your usual oatmeal.  It is best served cold, just to make sure you choke on every spoonful.
February 15th has always sucked.  It is the day you realize that your brother got 432 Valentines and you only got 3.  Two of them didn’t have any name on them and said, “from your secret friend” written in the same handwriting used on the other one you got that said “from Mrs. Blackwell.”  You check the gift box everyone was given from school, supposed to be full of treats that everyone’s mother made for the party and realize that several of your cookies already had bites taken, and most of them looked like they were the practice run before the mom got into the real groove of Martha Steward cookie decorating.  A closer look at the Valentine the teacher gave you leads you to realize she actually forgot all about you and cut your “Valentine” out of the picture on the front of the book.  One of the legs of the little lamb is missing and there is a price tag half peeled off.

Later it was learning that your “boyfriend” gave the same Valentine and same message to 3 other girls.  The perfume he said came from Paris was actually on sale at the local hardware store.  That you may be the only one who believed Billy Butcher’s story that it was traditional for girls to give boy’s a pair of their panties on Valentines Day to prove they were really dating and committed to one another.  The reason you realized it was because Billy Butcher never looked at you again, everyone was laughing, oh … and your underwear was hanging from the school flag pole the next morning.  
It didn’t end there.  February 15th was the day your boss apologized for being late with your gift and handed you a box of chocolates.  They were the exact ones you gave him 2 years ago and you are sure of this because when you opened it, your hand written card was still tucked inside.  The chocolate was stale.  
The flowers your husband bought you were the ones posted all over Facebook the next morning that some little boy bought for his mother and accidentally left them on the seat and when he went back they were gone.  Everyone is weeping for the boy and wondering what kind of a person steals a kid’s flowers.  Now you have to decide whether it is worse that your husband clearly forgot to get you anything until he was on his way home and he grabbed the abandoned flowers, or that a little boy’s mother somewhere missed out on her flowers, the ones sitting on your table?
In other words, the day after sucks.
The glow is off, those little angels don’t look cute and chubby, they just look like little fat men who really should cover up.  Love sucks.  There is no happily ever after and you just wanna stay in bed and cry.
Feb15 2
And that lasts until you hit the stores and realize all those chocolates are on sale and well … they say chocolate is better than sex and it can fix anything.
You may have given up on love but science is worth pursuing.  A theory has to be tested, repeatedly, in order to be proven.   Time to start the chocolate experiments!
SKIN:  Lumae :: Jewel – 3 – Rosy // Draven
PARTS:  SLink
HAIR:  MINA – Kaya – Light blond
EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
LASHES:  [Hush] BONUS Lush Lashes
JACKET, SKIRT, TOP:  YELIZ MESH “YOUNG SPIRIT” Luxury Dress with HUD
BOOTS:  EB Shoes-CLOE MESH White Lace boots
EARRINGS:  KARA BLACK EARRINGS
FURNITURE:  [CIRCA] Blogger Pk – CMP – “Love Notes” / Deep Reds
POSES:  oOo


Visit http://bliss-imo.blogspot.com/2016/02/february-15th-get-life-you-romantic.html for original post date.

Knick Knack, Kitty Kat, Looking Back.

Previously posted at Blissimo.

kitty cat bag 1
A few years ago a friend stopped over and we ended up sitting in my office talking.  BIG mistake.   I happened to leave Second Life on the screen while we talked and to be honest, I wasn’t even sure where I was.  But, as luck would have it, up popped the one thing you never want your feminist friends to ever see.. . a Gorean “couple.”
There they were in all their “I-am-your-long haired-over muscled-bare chested-master-kneel-and-worship-me-half naked-while-you-wash the floor-and-practice-the-fruits-of-your- Gorean-masters degree-in kneeling-while-thrusting-breasts-out-poses.” 
My friend was like “OMG what is THAT?” (helps if you do this voice in a shocked I-just-stepped-in-dog-doo doo type of scream while holding a cup of coffee that is now half in the cup and the rest on you, the floor, me, and the computer keyboard.  Oh, and if you are a stickler for realism … really scream and then swear a lot here (in a very attractive female’s voice of course).  Get your co-workers involved and play different roles.  Find out who can scream the best or has the highest tolerance for burning hot coffee on their bare skin. 
This is a highly interactive 3D blog after all.

kitty cat bag 2
We were clearly on two different planets here cause I answered her, “I think it is dope on a rope.”
“Huh???”
“Well you know like Old Spice …. soap on a rope? BUT this is DOPE on a rope … only spicier …?? ”   I guess I am not as funny as I think I am.  I was actually hoping if I laughed at them, we could just roll our eyes and move on.  I have always been a bit of a dreamer that way.
“But he is dragging her?”
“Yes I see that, well … she must be really slow and need remedial obedience classes.  They normally follow along quietly and no-one gets hurt.”
Are you freaking kidding me? That is disgusting!!
“In fairness, the big guy controls her avatar completely, this is really not that big a deal.  They usually keep it pretty much to themselves and on their own sims.  It is the regular folk that will end up having sex right in front of everyone in a furniture store or something.”
“People have sex in here?”
“In my office? Well, by people do you mean other than me and my hubby? Or are you referring to that bus tour that got lost?  You know that was only that one time, and I tried to stop them but …” 
She interrupted me with a snort (feminists do GREAT snorts)”I mean on there …” and she was pointing at my screen with complete disgust. I followed her finger to the Gorean couple. 
I started to scan my mind for memory of how the hell to pray.  Please teleport out of there.  Please teleport out of there.  For the love of God TELEPORT OUT OF THERE!!
Nope, she was purring and crawling around like a cat (the Gorean lady …not my friend. My friend never purrs or crawls around like a cat.  It is against the feminist code of the burnt bra) I sat dripping my coffee quietly on my own hand hoping people can die from coffee burns.   It was either by my hand or I was going to be killed in the explosion when her head went.  Those feminists can turn like that (insert one of your coworkers snapping their fingers here … sound effects make these things just so much more real).
“Why aren’t other people rescuing that poor girl?”
“Who said she was a girl?”
“WHAT???”
“Well she might be a man…..”  I poured more coffee on my hand.  “Don’t worry,” I quickly inserted, trying to defuse the growing tension as she snapped the stapler she was holding in her hands in two, “she LETS him own her.” I swallowed my words into the silence made by someone sucking in all the air in the room followed by a hissing gasping which I assumed was the death rattle of strangulated principles.
I spent some time admiring her recent dental work and the nice job the surgeon had done on those tonsils twenty years back before she closed her mouth and continued,  “OK, who is THAT Woman? ” She had pushed me out of the way and was sitting in my chair, grabbing the mouse and moving the camera in on the scene.  She pointed to a woman dressed in black from head to toe standing to the side. This was not going to get any better.
 “That is a free woman .”
“FREE?”
“Yes she is the Muscle masters real main squeeze. She gets to help him boss the slave girls around but they don’t let her play in any reindeer games, if you know what I mean.”  Oh God, how did I end up here, knowing anything about Gorean people and sounding like a freaking expert.  It had to be the wifi.  It did damage brains.  It made them sponges so that you just thought you were out there shopping for a pretty dress, all innocent and everything, and you were actually being indoctrinated and brainwashed with sexual everything.  
“Wait, so if you are a slave you get to be naked and have sex, and if you are free you keep indoors in the black tent and stand off to the side and watch your partner have sex with whom ever he wants?”
“No- I don’t think they get to watch …” I was doing the tap dance of fast talking trying to move my partner cross the dance floor of life to something not known to send feminists into anaphylactic shock.  I was out of coffee and still alive.  Damn.    “Um …  think how clean their floors are with all that kneeling and I bet they are really happy to have live in help around the house.  I am sure that is really what these women are thinking with all of this.  It just looks way worse than it is.”
I made a mental note to keep a towel handy in my office, to throw over the computer when people come to visit  Or maybe over myself?  Better yet, keep the door locked.  Don’t have anymore friends.
She continued,  “And a “HUD?” You said something about a “hud.”  What is a” hud?””
I demonstrated for her with my walk and pose hud, happy to move the view away from the Gorean couple as her clothes (or strips of string across her body) started to magically disappear while HE was now purring.  “See how my avi moves so fluently?  That is with the hud.   Now look at sans hud,” and I deactivated it and let her watch me try to walk.   “So the thing is this hud is for walking and posing and they had a hud for sex and stuff so you can do …um … sex …um … fluently …”
Sigh. (Note to self, there is a reason they say never discuss sex in the conversational etiquette books of appropriate office and dinner table discussion.  This office had a table/desk and coffee was a good dinner substitute.  The rule applied doubly.
“Right, cause heaven knows you wouldn’t want your pixels on the screen to have jerky thrusting.  I am sure you have the sex monitors come on and judge your efforts for the sex hall of fame.  MY GOD, this is just so … so ….”
“Not awesome?”  I offered, realizing that any esteem she ever held for me was probably gone and that I probably should just phone and see if Jerry Springer is still doing TV and resign myself to the fact I was clearly trailer trash.  Why is that down in the basement, alone at night, it all seems so magical and then in the light of day, in front of other people, it seems so … not awesome?
kitty cat bag 3
I thought it best to let her have a moment, she seemed a bit fevered.   If she was ok, I certainly felt like throwing up.
“Why Bliss? Just tell me WHY?”
Long pause.  Things didn’t even sound good in my head, no sense offering them out loud.
“Because we can?
…oh…..and their parents are probably asleep?”
SKIN:  .::WoW Skins::. 2016 Delia Tan
PARTS:  SLink
HAIR:  Lamb. Love Fade
HAT:  GizzA– Felt Hat [Brown]
EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
LASHES:  [Hush] BONUS Lush Lashes
DRESS:  !gO! Cameo – mint
NECKLACE:  GizzA– Paper Rose Necklace – Mix
GLOVES:  **RE** Bow Leather Gloves
BRACELET:  Aphrodite Goddess Dark Silver jewelry
BOOTS:  Reign Nordic Boots
PURSE:  AvengeAnuka bag cat 3
LOCATION:  The Looking Glass


Visit http://bliss-imo.blogspot.com/2016/02/knick-knack-kitty-kat-looking-back.html for original post date.

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