Hysteria Lane

In am speechless, truly I am.

People, people, people... Don't you know me a bit by now? Allow me to introduce me:

Hullo, I'm the Lioness. I sometimes write posts abt Buffy, sharks and Clippy, the Office Assistant. Bcs I can, you see. It being my blog. And Buffy, sharks and Clippy are all rather fabulous in their own different ways [sadly, Clippy has been replaced in my affections by The Cat. The Cat meows, and scratches my screen and curls up to sleep when I stop writing. Such are the fickle ways of the world.] But what I’m locally known for though is the way I let things aggravate me, all sorts of things, ridiculous things at times - and when they do I go on and on and on abt them. Not bcs I can, see, but bcs I can NOT help myself. I absolutely cannot help myself. Most importantly, if you’ve been reading me with a modicum of attention you’ll have noticed I eat sarcasm for breakfast. It keeps my brain sharp and my waistline small.

So Dahlings, this is my question to you. Take a good look at the previous post, go on. It didn’t take much time did it. That's bcs it’s only two lines. Let me repeat that, IT’S ONLY TWO LINES!

*Holler*

HOW IN BLOODY HELL COULD YOU THINK I’D EVER MANAGE TO SAY GOODBYE IN TWO BLOODY LINES??

*/Holler*

I’d have to at least, AT LEAST, write 15 paragraphs where reasons would be detailed ad nauseam. Bcs I’d start right around the time Pangea ceased to be and work my way up to opposable thumbs wouldn’t I. And there’d be lots of links to previous posts and people, obviously. And I’d get all weepy and girly and flail my arms abt loads and try on different outfits bfr I finally settled on the very first one.

HAVE YOU LEARNT NOTHING? You’re all grounded. Go sit in the corner w the funny hat. Face the wall, NOW!

I meant, you bunch of hysterical creatures, that it seems I have lost my touch! Bcs, despite appearances to the contrary AS.I.TYPE, I cannot rant anymore!

[Excuse me while I get my bearings for a moment. My mother’s just rang me and said “Oh I’m on the way to the hairdresser’s bcs I cannot stand these colouring jobs they’ve been doing anymore, I’ll get a buzz haircut and then it will grow back normal.” A BUZZ HAIRCUT. You don’t know my mother. My mother dresses conservatively, silks, good cottons, authentic jewelery (the pieces she hasn’t finished distributing throughout the Portie Gas Station Bathroom Belt, that is), furs (let’s pretend I didn’t say that, they’re part of “my heritage” and fuck me if I know what I’ll do w them one day). So the haircut wouldn’t exactly fit in with the whole. Plus I’d have to be present to yell TIMBER! and break my father’s fall. I myself would probably be whimpering bcs, despite my personal feelings regarding said look (VILE), some people actually look rather fabulous with no hair or close to none. My mother is NOT one of them, she doesn’t have the bone structure for it. She’d look appallingly disease-ridden. Crisis averted, I got my voice back in time but am shaky. And worried. It will probably be one of those days, wonder how the sky looks at night…. It’s beginning to sound suspiciously like a full moon approaching.]


As I was saying, I No Can Rant No More. And that saddens me, and pains me, and shames me more than just a bit. Bcs sometimes things happen and I think “OH!” - but then… nothing. NOTHING. I feel my belly in the most medical way possible (we have a much better verb, we say “palpate”. Portie beats English at times, who knew! What, you don’t understand? Oh shut up.) - and there’s NO FIRE! The dragons are gone! That’s what I meant by this blog has left the building, you silly crop of souls! I am bored by it! And that’s not news, remember? REMEMBER??

Yes, I post pics w captions and little Talking Whatchamacallits, and I write abt Abanibi and the I Kiss You bloke - but that’s not really posting is it? NOT REALLY! That’s just white noise, and we all know what I like is a nice juicy black one, where everything is sucked in powerfully and, occasionally, cosmically eructed. I need to tell you abt the Moonlight Glistening Buttocks - and I cannot! I need to tell you abt an Anglo visitor I had and his peculiar sense of “guestness”, which involved a taxi driver, much alcohol, loads of rugby and me banging my head against every available, nail-infested surface - and I cannot! Not because I must study or have too much work - new translation job, excruciatingly booooring - see the pattern, dahlings? I simply CAN NOT. Gone. The bloody universe is conspiring against me!

Besides which, I just woke up - look here, I’ve barely finished my third coke and there are only seven ciggie butts in the ashtray! - and you’ve forced me to get my brain into gear and it doesn’t take kindly to that in the wee hours of the morrow. (Go here to see for yourselves how dramatic it is if you don’t believe me. Eyes swollen shut, much bumping against furniture and the most extraordinary head of bad bed hair that ever roamed the planet. Every day, every single day of the year.)

And now it gets personal:

(Txt Messages I had this morning)

Viscondessa, NO, I'm not going to quit blogging! For shame!
(Comments)

Jay, where the HELL have you been? Have you lost your commenting fingers? You are still hilarious - but what, since you’ve been to Chicago you’re to cool to post here? For shame!
Lorem Ipsum, I think you need a new vacation babe. For shame!
Chimmy Boy, you should also know better! For shame!
Ed, at least you partially got it. MILK? I’m not that much of an Anglophile, as it turns out For shame!
Beth, I’d stop blogging and not tell you?? For shame!
Elswhere, see, there are NO caustic notes left! For shame!
Trout, words fail me. For shame!
Eliyahu, huh? Who is? Cryptic Judaism now? Drink your tea. For shame!
Stacey, a woman after my own heart! But I never left! For shame!
Noorster, Noorster… You too should have known better! For shame!
Nuno, at least I got you to curse and delurk or whatever it is you do all the way down there in LA. But cursing?? I’m shocked. For shame!
Simone, WHO are you? Are you a *shudder* LURKER? This it took for you to surface? And now you'll re-lurk? For shame!
Ana, PREGGO BRAIN! For shame!
David, well, it’s a mystery! Ha, get it? For shame!

There, I feel better. You lot tire me. Here, I’m buying a round of caipirinhas (Ana, you just sniff). You need to chill, dahlings. Badly. But you made me laugh, there’s that. And the concern is lovely, if misguided. And if you don’t know what I’m alluding to in the title, shame on you and the mare you rode in on! GO GET THE SERIES NOW.