Blogville

Ok so let's go. Here is where I feel safe right now. Farmville ain't safe, I could get swallowed up by some elephant. Elephants on a farm, now that makes a great deal of sense. Dragville ain't safe either, I could get my 10 cm heel stuck in someone's booty. And that makes a great deal of sense, you cannot go to Dragville sans des talons aguilles, no flats there. So Blogville it is, where I can go up and about to my heart's content. Blogs are a horrible thing when you don't have a life. As it is, i get mine read exactly because of the opposite; I have a life. Oh yes, a complicated life with its twists, but a life just the same. So I don't spend ages trying to come up with the most difficult and cryptic of language. I write as it comes, because it's me. I need not shout to the world about my intellect, because perhaps I don't have one. I don't need to prove anything to myself either. I just write, in my own name too. Because my Blog is safe, I make it safe. And perhaps it's because my blog happens to be on the rock. It's the rock where we do things our way. We do not need outsiders to tell us how much we should be selling our houses. If someone asks for a price, we expect to sell at that price and not be made an offer. We might have il-Monti, but property selling is no Monti. That is our territory there and we don't like being pushed, although we sure deal with it in a more polite and understandable way. Fine we don't sell, we're ok with it. We just live in it, pas problemes. Mintoff is over and done with. I do not admire anybody who thinks that pounding on someone's car just because he was once Prime Minister is a terribly good idea. It could have been the Pope for all I care. I do not have one fond memory of the Mintoff era either. That's because his people were skinning rabbits on my mother's roof, and I can still hear those poor rabbits. And yes rabbits are important, otherwise they wouldn't be sent as gifts on Farmville would they? I don't even need an answer for that because it's my blog and I write as I want to, when I want to. And, cats do not hit on us. They hit on other cats, because that is the law of nature. And that much, this bitch understands.

Drag-ville

This is my blog and I say whatever pleases me at whatever time pleases me. Today it's about my fascination with drag. On a day like today when I'd sign myself in for gender change surgery at the drop of a hat or less, I remember my feather boas very fondly. Correction I have actually taken them all out just to be able to see them. There are quite a lot. I don't know what I was trying to prove when I bought them seeing I'm as straight as they come. But they are so luxurious to the touch, so warm and give you the va-va-voom you need once in a while. And I wish I wear a man so I'd be able to go around in drag. As it is, I still do, only difference is that it's a woman inside so that makes it look pretty convincing. If only facebook could come up with something like Dragville where you'd have to shop in designer outlets to create the exact image. Oh I'd be such a loyal customer then. Because instead of milking the cows I'd be milking the leather, the fur, the feathers the heels. So much more stylish. And since there is no virtual Dragville, I'm making my own. And it's all real life.

Farmville!!!!!

There is a new trend on Facebook which isn't that new or trendy. It's about building a farm. In 2009. I would hate to be a real life farmer. Imagine out and about, 'so what is it you do for a living? ... I'm a farmer!' I'd hate that, probably because I'm snooty and also a snob, and my idea of living isn't in dirty dungarees getting my manicured nails filthy and hiding my perfectly polished toes in rubber wellies. No, I just would never do that. And yet this virtual farm seems to be all the rage right now. It's the in-thing on Facebook. And I also have one, which is shameful, perfect to waste time with. But not something to get addicted to. Buying sheep and harvesting corn isn't my kind of thing. But it's the perfect type of people watching. You get to know a lot by a person's farm. Most have white fencing. Most have animals so orderly that they make me feel sorry for them. They cannot even move. And the ploughing plots are really something. They could be measured by an engineer's callipers and would be deemed as having been placed perfectly one by the other. No waste of space. What is that? Virtual OCD-ing? And as if that weren't enough, what about the obsessive need to check if cows need milking? Would I keep checking a cow's udders in real life? Oh noooooo. The thought itself is harrowing, and no do not kid me into saying it's relaxing. Relaxing is in some Bedouin drinking hot chocolate, smoking with a significant someone else. Relaxing is throwing all my newly acquired shopping possessions onto the carpet and making love to them in my own kind of voyeuristic way. But the best (and worst) thing which has come up lately is the hedging. There are hedges all over the place. Which spells, what exactly? If a virtual farm is on show for all to see, why bother with the hedging? Has Farmville become the 'accepted' place to air out our control issues or what? Then again, must be something I'm missing.

Boundaries

I am told I do not understand the word. Probably because I do not have any left, and a big part of my life is about pushing my boundaries to the extent that I don't have any left. And that's ok. I don't get mad. I don't get even either. Perhaps I do not understand the word because boundaries in maps show up in red. In life they are colourless, as transparent as you can get. Boundaries are like territory, they bring war to my mind and with war the endless senseless suffering and deaths. A country, a city, a state. You see on the rock I live we do not have those on the map either. We have villages as opposed to cities, and states are something we can only imagine. Some of us take off to see what they're like. Some of us stay here and do not know what it's like. And for the we who stay on the rock, the we do not turn to legal jargon unless we're in the law business. Sorry because this time it's our turn to put up frontiers and we do things our way as much as other people might hate it. Just because we're on the rock doesn't mean we have a pea sized brain. Nobody got suddenly blessed with a MENSA I.Q. just because they flew to see the queen. Or because they flew to the Big Apple for that. And while boundaries is a word in its own right, it just doesn't sound very inviting. I guess it's the way it's supposed to sound. Just a nicer word than a clear off. Fine. But then I have another word. Attitude. And that doesn't conjure up thoughts of war, or red lined maps. It's my word this time.