Category Archives: Humor
To win your upcoming Ugly Christmas Sweater Contest, you’ll need minor sewing skills, an eye for the gaudy, and a few days to assemble a psychosomatic episode in cloth form.
Start with, the sweater:
This flinch-inducer was discovered at my friend Irene’s thrift shop. To be certain, I had a run-off with some other candidates but this one was the most “EGAD!” of all.
The next thing you’ll want to do is hyper-accentuate an item of the sweater. In my case, I saw all these jingle ball details, so I invested in a box full of jingle bells:
The larger, the noisier, but then I want to consider not driving myself crazy while wearing it!
To add a “WTF?!?!” factor, I found utility in these two Peruvian finger puppets, gifts from my dear friend Alex upon her return from teaching in Lima:
Let’s go ahead and create a creepy backstory for these two. One sunny day up on Machu Picchu, Celia (left) and Chiquita (right) were steadily packing up their wares, ready to head back down the mountain to their humble home in the adjoining city. The next sensation they shared was the taste of pennies in their mouths and a burning sensation in their nostrils. They looked about and found themselves nowhere near their tourist store front, but instead, chained at the waist to columns supporting a bleak, rickety house. The only response to their calls of “ayudame!” was their echoes…
And now, we sew:
Basic single stitch, feeding double cord, approximately 1/4 inch loop. If you don’t know how to sew, look up a video on YouTube, cuz I ain’t got that kind of time!
We affix Celia and Chiquita to their outdoor prison:
And here’s the final nightmare:
Already we have a winner, right? But remember folks, these contests are won with popular vote, so you need to throw in a little suh-um-suh-um to win over the fickle! Here’s what I’m adding:
Because there’s gotta be a little naughty, a little nice, or there’s no point to Santa Claus.
For the younguns in attendance, who don’t comprehend why Mommy is spelling S-L-U-T towards her friends:
Event pics forthcoming. Wish me luck friends!
When I moved here December 8, 2011, I had only one intention; to peel away the dead flesh and let someone I’d rather know emerge. I like Von Simeon; she’s a much more interesting person than whoever the fuck I was before.
Historically a flight risk, I’ve renewed my stay at this brownstone for yet another year. Why give up the mini-empire I’ve established? Since I got here, I’ve exercised zero tolerance for wannabe criminals sullying my block – chasing out stank hoes trying to work my building, getting assholes next to me evicted, and dismissing shady peace officers. Flag or badge, I’m on to you idiots like ‘white on rice in a glass of milk on a paper plate in the middle of a snow storm!’*
Just recently, I pissed off the OGs pushing drugs to the middle school kids up the block by slow rolling on their action and straight tellin’ their kiddie pushers to fuck off. One of the OGs tried to shake me while in my truck, but I laughed his idiocy off, like Riley does Grandpa Freeman. You see, I’m from a little town called Fort Hood, Texas, where the community motto is, “Just Give Me A Reason.” Ergo, if I feel comfortable in this space, I’m gonna maintain it as MY space!
My tenure comes with privileges… the maintenance team responds same day to my requests, the property managers know me on a first name basis, and every patrolman on overnight shift takes the time to check in with me and Bobby on our lakeview stoop. They, along with my neighbors and management understand, if something goes down within my perimeter, I’m gonna handle it, and THEN call them to deal with it. I’m no vigilante; I’m just a lame-legged retired woman who’s an excellent shot.
Already you’re thinking I live in a shitty ass neighborhood. Actually, I do not: I live in a middle income suburb on the coast, where manicured lawns and luxury cars reign supreme. It’s as if the Divine 9 held a general meeting 40 years ago and said, ‘we’re going to achieve excellence in how we live and how we raise our children by buying blocks of beautiful homes and invoking peaceful living.’ But just like other well-to-do neighborhoods in America, scabs come along on occasion, and ultimately, it is the charge of the individual to either tolerate or eradicate nonsensical behavior. That’s what I’m doing; this is how I contribute.
In reward, I’ve managed to embrace my creativity, address my disabilities, and renew my sense of spirituality all from my shaded balcony. This year the Universe felt generous enough to give me a partner in life, a proclaimed Florida Cracker, who loves me more than I can understand, but won’t refuse.
Today I celebrate locking one foot in the now, here in beautiful Pinellas County, and the other, flexed towards the future.
*Cool points if you can name the American movie where that quote is from!
…so that I can pull THIS move!! :D
Slow week, huh? Not really trying to work or start anything new, huh? Well, do I have the best time-wasting post for you! :D
Revisiting my last successful and hilarious account of actual Inkpad Notepad app entries, I’m plucking out the most outrageous, spanning last summer to early 2014. Just like last time, I offer poems, quotes, and dialogue with just enough explanation to validate my insanity!
You guys love these raw, visceral displays of vulnerability…
You get the sense I spend most my awake hours perpetually screaming in anger, spewing flames, like that mine shaft in Pennsylvania. What’s the name of that place again? Gotta be somewhere in my notes…
Visiting the NOMAD art bus during the Florida Bookstore Day after party. The non-profit organization visits disenfranchised neighborhoods to provide creative activities otherwise nonexistent for residents. Please visit their Page and support art for all!
What a gift to live in Florida…round the year sunshine, beautiful beaches, and a stretch of shenanigans to get into mid-state!
This past week, me and the BF made our way to Orlando with the plan to ride as many roller coasters, as many times possible, in one day. We arrived an hour after opening, and got kicked out at closing!
“Your honor, all I did was retweet…”
“This from the woman who wrote, ‘I Blew Up Juarez‘!”
“*sigh* Ya got me, yah honah, ya got me…”
My mental cutaway when I happened to catch on Twitter I was ‘featured’ in a webzine, only to find out it’s someone’s mash-up site. Such is the side affect of being out there in the zeroes and ones; the more you digitally connect, the more likely you’ll get digitally hijacked!
It’s not that big a deal, knowing my @VonSimeon is a public account. I’ve been much more active on Twitter this year, but not enough to where I’m desperately racking up followers to substantiate authenticating my Twitter existence. Twitterstence? Existter? Nevermind…
So things like this are bound to happen, and will continue to happen, as I widen the cast of my Ether-net (get it get it!). A credit for sharing a post on Literary Jihadi…? Umm, think I’ll leave THAT one off the CV!