The Birthday Blog!

Hap....wait you start, I'm shy!  Haaaa...okay no, I'll start, it's my blog. 

Happy birthday to youuu!  Happy birthday tooo you!  Happy birrrrrrrrrrrrrthday, Rambling At Random!  HaaaaapPy birrrthhhhhhday tooooooooooooo youuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!!!  Hip hippppp!  HoooooooooooraYYY!  HiP hiP!  HooooorayyyyyyY!  Hip hippppp!  Hooooorayyyyyy!  For she's a jolly good fel...

I never did like that part.  To me, it encourages hypocrisy.  Tooo many people that secretly despise you?  They sing that part like they mean it and then you imagine that everybody loves you but then soon after?  They spill alcohol on your couch, the staining type and think you forgot they just called you a man on your birthday!   

­^_^!!!!!!!!!!  Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm-M!  Look at that!  ^_^!  My baby's turned ONE!  Mannnnnn?  Blogs!  They grow up so fast, don't they?!!!  Soon she's gonna hit puberty and in a fit of rebellion, start deleting sentences as I'm typing them.  But lemme not think so far ahead.  One and a half human teenagers are more than I can handle for now.  Instead.  I will take this moment to reminisce about the fun I've had creating her!   

Annnnnnnd ACTION:  Rambler Taking moment .........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Now.  Guess what?!?  I have great news for you.  I have plans!  Oh god!  >_<!  Was....that?  Did I just hear bodies drop!  Well?  When you come to?  You can read that I'm going to celebrate with family and friends tonight at the Happy Hearts Mother's Day Dance!  Whoooooooooo.  Hoooooooooo!  Sob.

Surrounded by pensioners.  --__--

Because Happy Hearts is a pensioners club.  Wh-Why does my mum do this to me?  I'm beginning to think she's paying me back!  I was thirsty, for heavens sake!  People shouldn’t take five years of breastfeeding thaaaaaat seriously.  If anyone should be mad?  It should be me!  I'm the one who spent my entire primary school career with a lisp, being asked to repeat...She sells sea shells on the sea shore!

If I've taught you anything?  It's not.  To.  Judge.  A Rambler by the number of years she was breastfed!  Just be glad that by then, once the curry powder plan failed?  She put a band-aid on her breast and I felt sorry for her enough, to stop!  It means that I have a heart!  And that's what matters!  Ignore too, the fact that I would vehemently resort to cursing for my milk!  Thirst affects everyone differently. 

Once I got over the initial shock of hearing that I was a potty mouth at that age?  I came to one conclusion and one conclusion only.  That I was a good listener!  I had to have heard those words somewhere, right?!  Seems to me that those years helped instil in me, some pretty good qualities!

Evvvven if she did have to feed me while hanging washing on the line?  I'm tryna picture that.  O_o!  How strong was my ability to hang on a breast using only my lips?!  If I was actually that lesbian people said I was?  I’d be a hit just for that ability!  Maybe my mum bent down and just...felt her way around the washing line.  Some of you might be saying, "Gasp!"  You get those times when all you can say is, gasp.  Me?  I'm looking at the fact that if your kid can't help you to multi-task, then who can?  Remind me to ask her though.  On the hand, no.  Jussssss might encourage her to think up more ways to pay me back. 

From the compassion to the good listening skills, and like I mentioned just now?  Multi-tasking coach?  I’m not enjoying the repercussions.  I went from breastfeeding LIKE A BOSS!  To a social life that includes, almost exclusively, dances held by elders who might or might not have been brainwashed by a moon DJ.  Last year around this time?  On the 12th to be precise!  My memory served me well there only because it was my parents' 50th anniversary!  I don't take unearned credit!  I might’ve cursed my mum out as a toddler at some unfortunate times?  But claiming unearned credit is where I draw the line!   

Look?  We all wanted to be there to help them celebrate what was the first 50th anniversary in our family...that I can recall.  So, our intentions were great!  Little did we know that us youngsters would sit in utter horrification!  Yes!  It was so mortifying that I said horrification and if I could think of a word that better described that night......mare?  I'd use it. 

Song after sonnnnnng after song tortured our very being.  Being......there, I mean!  While these very pensioners....and they look all innocent and sweet?  I feel so used!  Elderly people have this....this almost angelic essence to them.  Lemme tell you something.  Those angels?  Motivated the DJ to perform continuous acts of what felt to us, the Unhappy Hearts, like we were being repeatedly decapitated, sewn back, decapitated, sewn back! 

If you know anything at all about me?  You will know that music means more to me than alota things do.  I turn to it for comfort, hope, company, fantasy, solace....pretty much everything!   Not once......not for a second did I ever believe that music could be used as a weapon of mass destruction.  It was a war of hearts and we lost.  In a massive way!  So much so that Gillians one earing jumped off her ear at some point and hid somewhere!  It never returned.  Those diamonds were like, "We were better off dirty and underground!"  And I don't blame them!  There were several moments during that evening that I contemplated leaving my car there as a cover for everyone to think I was still present. And running home in heels.  The earing however, beat me to it!     

But?  See, the thing is this.  And this is a fact.  I'm no DJ, but dammit!  I know some things, okay!  The more you dance?  To the shit.  The more the DJ believes that that shit don't stink!  It was a like sinking into a heap of manure, without blocked nasal passages!  Some of us refer to that as sinus.  So there were the pensioners!  Running wild not only to the dance floor, but on it!  To songs?  OMG!  I just bit my tongue just reliving it!  To songs that sometimes?  Sometimes we didn't even think they were singing in a dialect known to man.  Moon language songs or something!  They were not of this world!  And I don’t mean just the pensioners.  Those?  They were just not behaving according to the Handbook of Acceptable Pension Behaviour at a Mother’s Day Dance....for Dummies.

I think that Moonians succeeded in brainwashing our community of elders that night!  Let's be honest?  Some pensioners don't even remember their own names.  Or English.  Or the popular combination...their names in English.  How can I now just...simply believe that they were that excited to dance to that music!  My mind was so pre-occupied by the vile taste of dreadful melodic entertainment and the harsh reality that an earing had more courage than I did?  I didn’t even think to have them all line up once the lights came on and check for any moon-like symptoms.  There's no way!  No way that they could have been that familiar with that hogwash the DJ was spinning. 

It wasn't even like....?  You know how......?  Sigh.

Okay, okay......I have the perfect explanation.  I have a song right now where, Nicole kept playing it in the car, right.  I liked it from the moment I heard it.  But guilt washed over me for every single minute of pleasure that I felt, enjoying this song because of how much cursing it has in it.  Awwwwwwwww come-onnnnnnn!  You’re gonna keep talking about what I did when I was five?............shameful.  Anyway, moving on..........Thhhhhhhhe!!!!  

...............Style of rap, the way it's performed and the beat?  It's put together where it's simply the perfect combination.  Yesterday?  She got me the clean version.  I will admit.  The original lyrics sounded like me at five years old, there I said it.  Now?  They sound like me after some deep psychological trauma. 

Basically, the chorus now sounds like the artist has Tourettes syndrome.  

It went from, " I love bad #*@+?!# that's my #*@+?!# problem, n yeah I like to #*@+?!# I got a #*@+?!# problem........!" 

To, " I love bad-----------------that's my---------------problem, n yeah I like to---------------I got a--------------problem........!" 

The difference here is.....I can still dance to it.  Just like in the shower last night.  The beat is still hard and catchy.  The dialect is clearly Black American.  And aside from the whole tourettes thing?  Hey, I'd rush to the dance floor for this version!  And what I particularly enjoyed hearing was that he was man enough to admit he had a #*@+?!# problem...you know.  That was.........refreshing.  

Last years DJ?  In my opinion?  Was a car guard!  I see them popping up at functions more and more now.  You already know about the sunburnt "stripper" with the black formal pants and wayyyyy too much sweat to be deemed healthy, don’t you?  I’ve always said...this being the first mention......Once a stripper causes you to switch focus?  On how much lower you can bend your seated body behind the chair in front of you so that firstly, he doesn’t see you and get ideas and secondly, so that his sweat misses you and hits the unlucky person behind you?  Let’s just say that, that one experience!  Taught me everything I needed to know about keeping ones day job!

With alllllll of that said?  Wish me luck for tonight.  Thank you guys for taking the time to accompany me on my journey to a one-year old blog!  For the rest of the weekend?  Ramble Responsibly and who knows?  I might just see one or two of you at this dance tonight too!