A Second Life® Fashion & Community Feed

Resting Bitch Face – My Story.

Previously posted by at Blissimo.

Resting Bitch Face, let’s discuss.
I used to get yelled at all the time for not smiling more.  I was a kid of the seventies, living in a world where there was war and discord.  Women were burning their underwear just trying to get people to care about the fact that they were pissed about not getting the same opportunities as men.  People were having sex in the parks, with everyone else.  People were doing drugs.  People traded in their souls for Rock and Roll.  Elvis was hip swivelling and people were looking. 
I didn’t do drugs.  I was not having sex.  I was not burning anyone’s underwear.  I would have been happy to have a bra, I certainly was not going to burn it when I got it.  I was never into Elvis.  I was a straight A student who went to church every Sunday and sang in the choir.  And the tragedy was, according to my grandparents, I needed to smile more. 
Or I was probably going to hell.
It was a wonder they did not call for an exorcist.

There were lots of older ladies who did resting bitch face, long before it became fashionable.  You should never point that out to grandparents when they are lecturing you about looking happy.   “You should make an effort to smile more.  People will think you are not happy.  They will think you are an unpleasant person and they won’t want to be around you.”  Hey, superman had his powers, I could repel idiots by not smiling.    I pointed out that Mrs. Miller and Mrs. Black never smiled and no-one was up their case because of it.  Those two were on every committee, and involved in everyone else’s business and no-one left them out of anything.  What if I wanted to grow up and be just like them?  Fine, upstanding, well bra-ed, women of the community that they were?
They kept pointing out other kids and saying things like, “look at her lovely smile, Cheryl is such a happy girl, always smiling, no wonder she has so many friends.”  I told them that Cheryl was smiling because she was high and that she was so popular because she was having sex with everyone, including some of the other girls who were smiling.
When they didn’t lay off I tried burning my bother’s bras in protest of the way they were treating me.  I clearly did not understand the proper method of underwear burning protests because I got sent to a special wilderness camp to find God that summer.
That summer changed me. 
I came home and I was smiling. 

The camp director, a 30  something hippie type minister from Eastern Canada, and I had sex the entire summer.  It was pretty awesome. 
You really have to treasure life lessons like that, even if they were tough at the time . . . so worth it in the end.

HEAD:  [whatever] Ellie Mesh Head

MESH BODY:  Maitreya Mesh Body – Lara
HAIR:  Tableau Vivant \  Aku
EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
DRESS:  !:Lybra:! Gloria (Verde Blu)
EARRINGS:  Zaara : Sarika feather earrings *azure*
PURSE:  // SEUL \ Monogram Tassle Satchel

Visit for original post date.

Bright and Bold.

Previously posted by at Blissimo.

Awhile ago I posted a pic on social media of a fabulous group of older ladies dressed in an explosion of colours and patterns and styles.  Loved it.
I was surprised at the reaction it evoked.  Along with many who felt as I did, there were those who thought it clownish, a joke, and a tasteless display unbecoming for older women to adopt.  Someone remarked that older people are invisible no matter what they wear. 
I put my glasses on.

Maybe that is the point, to make sure we don’t go silently into the night, but that we make sure everyone knows we are still here and very much alive.  I want to be an older lady who dresses with my own sense of style, choosing vibrant colours and mixing patterns and breaking all the style rules.  I have always gone against the grain and made my own way.  I hate things that are the same as everyone else.
I was born this way, my grandmother was always telling me to, “stop it, people are staring at you.”,  STARE AT ME!!!  At least you won’t forget me.
You can try, won’t happen.
We try to make people disappear.  If you are a large woman you get a tent dress in brown, black, or puke green as an option.  If you look in any store you will see fabulous colour and a million styles of dresses for women size 0 – 10.  After that, and the bigger sizes you go, the choices get duller and blander.  Bridesmaid dresses, every colour of the rainbow and all fabrics.  Mother of the bride, tan, pink or purple.   Older women all seem to have boy cuts or tight perms.  Their shoes, not only are sensible but come in one colour … sturdy brown.  Their purses are sensible and brown.
I say no more brown.  No sturdy.  No limit of colours.
If you find that distasteful you should probably send money to the “save the children of the prairies foundation.”  When you grow up with the Hutterite Colony as your biggest fashion influence, where plaid, polka dots, and flower patterns go with everything, you are bound to be out of control when you escape.
That is my excuse.  I will be bold and loud … right until the moment they throw me to the wind. 
And I intend to talk to Heavenly Father about his obsession with white, once I get there.
SKIN:  Lara Hurley Skin-Gervaise
HAIR:  *booN SCO052 hair
EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
LASHES:  ATIA’s Diamond Wings Lashes
LIPSTICK:  * Baiastice_Illegal lipstick Bi colours
EYELINER:  .Birdy. VIP {Eyeliner} Pack of 10
EARRINGS:  Lazuri Cocoa Island Earrings
DRESS AND SCARF:  Ghee aqua.fiesta Milla Top & Scarf

Visit for original post date.

Travel Broadens the Mind.

Previously posted by at Blissimo.

I used to drive the little lawn mowing tractor around the farm and pretend I was in Paris, riding a scooter through the busy streets.
I would shout out “bonne journée” to the cows as I drove by and they would moo at me all judgemental like.  I could tell they were mocking me and saying, “THAT’s not a scooter and YOU are no fashion model.”  I would shout back, “jambes hamburger!” (hamburger legs!)

No-one cared back then that kids got bullied by cows.

I was pretty sure I was going to Paris as soon as I collected enough bottles from the ditches along the highway …. or got enough gopher tails . . . or sold my brother to the circus. 
I was so naive.
Looking back, I blame the cows.  All that methane, made me hallucinate.
But then Bliss came along and she can’t smell so methane schwethan, we are having a ball living in our little world of illusion here.  I like to drive by cows now and flash some of my fashion photography at them and yell out, “bite me.”

I do that because not only am I a beautiful fashion model now … I am really mature.  That’s what travel can do for you.  Pass the international flavoured tea please.
SKIN:  ::Modish:: Mia Skins
EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
HAIR:  “”D!va“” Hair “Amanda”
EARRINGS:  LUXE. Tassel Earrings Gold
NECKLACE:  EF:  Benedictine Riata
BRACELETS:  InDyra Earrings and Bangles STACKS
SKIRT:  _CandyDoll_Luna Skirt Aztec IV
TOP:  (fd) Rose Top – White Magic
PURSE:  SHEY Bodrum Handbag
SHOES:  [The Forge] Fluer Heels.

Visit for original post date.

I Prefer Stumps.

Previously posted by at Blissimo.

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
EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
HAIR:  (NO) French Braid Pigtails
EARRINGS:  Hatpins Gacha – Rose Quartz Arrow Earrings
DRESS:  SAS – Alexis Pack No. 1 1
BOOTS:  ODDITY OVERKNEE -Shiffer- Leather Lace
POSES:  MiaMai

Visit for original post date.

Timeless Fashion.

Previously posted by at Blissimo.

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.  
Ya, it is either that or we just don’t care about kids as much anymore.

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

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 for original post date.

Time Out – At The Beach.

Previously posted by at Blissimo.

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.

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
TATTOO:  [White~Widow] Suspicion – Black
DRESS:  .::PiCHi::. LELA Dress
EARRINGS:  MG – Earrings – Amalfi Summer Nights
BOOTS:  ISON – leather strap boots (taupe gray)

Visit for original post date.

Do You Feel What I Feel?

Previously posted by at Blissimo.

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.

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.
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
HAIR:  *booN Lab.007 hair brown
EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
DRESS:  SAS – Joelle HUD Dress (Mesh)
SHOES:  ~Black Arts~Jackie Platsforms
JEWLLERY:  / f:L / – Princess Set w/PearlsandOpals

Visit 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
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 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
HAIR:  rezology  May Rose
EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
LASHES:  [Hush] BONUS Lush Lashes
GOWN:  **SD** Hope Gown 

Visit for original post date.

These Aren’t Bees But …

Previously posted by at Blissimo.

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.
SKIN:  DeeTaleZ  Skin A.T.W. Kisha
HAIR:  [monso] My Hair – Lea
EYES:   Egozy.Eyes Illuminate Turquoize
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 for original post date.

%d bloggers like this: