In Which Someone Else Takes Over...

So, a while back, I threw down the gauntlet and asked for guest postage and, so far, only one of you has been man enough to come up with some words to put here and she's a girl with girl parts and everything. Her name is Tish Tash, she loves swearing and...well, swearing, mostly, and she can be found over at My Telephone Booth (where she has been known to swear). Here are some wordy-style things what she has very kindly wroted for me (which is particularly brilliant as her email arrived while I was sat here thinking that I had nothing to post today so screw you, Universe, I win!):-


Ahoy there, Readers of The Nick, The Nack, The Blog Attack!

Well there goes my weekly store of enthusiasm. However shall I react when I get my paycheck? Oh right, with my usual indifference because it’s going straight to The Bastard Landlord who has my ovaries in a vice. See? I'm flexible.

Sir Fella was kind enough to sub in for me while I was on vacation so I thought I'd return the favor while he goes off to work / to sleep / to wank off (Hey look Ma! I’m British!) / to the pub / to a midnight showing of Beaches / hey hey, I don’t judge.

Of course I’m the perfect person other than Baldy to post on here because we’re so much alike, except that I’m a lady, and he’s a Fella. And I have hair while he’s bald. And I’m American while he’s a Dirty Foreigner.*

Or maybe we’re nothing alike, but when you strip all that down, what you have left is that we are both People, and isn’t that what matters in the end when you don’t have money or fame to allow you to be a Complete Asshole instead? Kumbaya, etc.

The Great Baldino suggested that I should talk about Americanisms that you Britons might not know about since he wrote about Britishisms when he posted at The Booth. While it made sense for him to do that because we Americans are generally ignorant about every other culture not starting with “A” and ending in “Merican,” it doesn’t make much sense for me to try to educate you about Our Culture because Our Culture, like The Herp, is infectious and you might already have it. Just walk it off.

Therefore, I'm going to yell at you Brit types for a bit instead, yes?
So...what in the name of Thatcher's Titties were you thinking about losing the Revolutionary War? Seriously, you had an entire empire behind you. You know what the Yanks had? One French Guy. Who probably wore make-up. And frilly socks.

Dudes. That's a fail.

I could be saying things like "bloody," and "wicked," and "cheerio," and "cuppa tea" with a kick-ass English accent, but because you Limey fuckers lost, I get to be, all, like, "totally awesome" and "Grande Mocha" instead. Not cool, dudes. Not cool. What? Because the sun never set on your empire, you were all too sleep-deprived to win a war? Guess what would've helped? Coffee, ya damn Redcoats!

Just kidding. I'm just jealous that I don't have the awesome superpower of sounding classy even while saying things like "Oy! Sod off! You're not shoving that up me bum."

Ahhh...I don't know how you guys don't rule the world.



*That joke would’ve worked so much better a year ago before, ya know, the universal collapse of our system thus rendering any challenge we Americans throw down as mere squawking akin to the sounds emitted by a dying duck. Sigh. Them’s the days, huh? At least we can still Blow Shit Up. You should be scared, Rest of the World. Because now we’re armed, and desperate.