Thursday, March 26, 2009

No Wrest For The Stickied


I do so hate to use the word bloggiversary — especially when talking to the police or shopping for carrots in the supermarket — but I fear the phrase is about to be thrust upon me like a demon of nomenclature, so I’m opting to voice its name NOW before it assumes any power over my miserable mortal soul.


Odd though it seems (and you may wish to consider here a lopsided testicle and a lopsided breast momentarily assuming the same height above sea level in the scenario of your choice)*, I began this blog just under a year ago comme ca. Funny how things turn out.

So, I’m hoping to do something special next Wednesday to celebrate. I may even shave.

Left to my own devices, I’m bound to offer up something predictable, so it may help me in my cogitatory squirm (I envisioned 887 metres, btw. A mule and the woman who did David Hasselhoff’s hair the night he sang by the Berlin Wall. Oh — and Lovelace Watkins.), if you, my dedicated/deluded chummes de terre, threw in a few suggestions.

You may wish to consider which posts have delighted you the most over the past year. Or you may wish to propose a bold new horizon towards which my disembodied eye might bounce, ‘sif hurled by some steroid-pumped shot putter. Or you may wish to screech what the hell do I care? Hey, why don’t you just shoot yourself, or get someone to help you with that thing where you lie buried under a pile of sand apart from your head till the ants suck the syrup from your spinal cord, or what about every record Elvis ever made, all played AT ONCE, at 150 decibels, transmitted to your nasal cavity via an asbestos seismograph needle? Huh? Huh?

Last time I prostrated myself before the Doc Martens of your mercy, you got a quiz...


* or hamsters. Mmmmm. Nice furry hamsters.

17 comments:

Aerin said...

So, the testicles and breasts and hamsters and all I can think is Monty Python. My ability to create some phenomenon worthy of your year bloggiversary has been rendered totally useless. It's like genitals are my kryptonite.

Wait, that can't be right.

I'll be back.

Whirlochre said...

Genitals Are My Kryptonite sounds like a great name for a band.

I'll strum, you fly round the Earth at 100,000mph in a cape...

Ello said...

so are you going to shave the lopsided testicle?

And congrats on the anniversary!!!

scarlet-blue said...

Well, obviously you should make everyone bring you cake. Then do some cake writing.
Sx

Whirlochre said...

Hey, Ello, I'm powering up the Remington Kinda Wonky even as I...ouch

Whirlochre said...

As for the cake writing, I'm just hunting a pair of suitable tongs. Problem is — once I invert the Battenburg, which candle should I drip with?

fairyhedgehog said...

Reading many of your posts makes my brain squirm in an attempt to understand this new universe that's twisted through an angle of 97.3 degrees to the one that I live in.

I rather liked it when Geoff took over your blog for a while.

Competitions are good. Opening the blog up for a chat session is good. Shaving testicles is... not so good. That's what I assume, anyway, although I admit that it's not something I've ever tried. But if you want to make a video of yourself shaving then who are we to stop you? Just give us a warning, that's all I ask.

Whirlochre said...

Let me assure everyone that there will be no shaving videos.

Except, maybe, for my cactus.

Kiersten said...

Anything with your voice.

Well, except FH's suggestion.

Kiersten said...

(Interestingly, or not interestingly at all, depending on your point of view, last night I had a long discussion with my Scottish friend on accents. He was demonstrating all of the Scottish variations that a difference of even twenty miles can make. Then we started talking about English varieties. The whole thing was absolutely fascinating and left me quite certain your entire country is completely nuts.)

(In the best possible way.)

(The funniest part of the discussion, however, was another friend marveling how everyone else in the US has an accent except for Californians, and the rest of us trying to figure out whether or not she was kidding.)

(She wasn't.)

Whirlochre said...

I'm afraid it's true. My Mum & Dad met up in spite of the yearning gulf that exists between the borders of Warwickshire and Leicestershire. A definite case of east meets west, is this. Born only five miles apart, they had accents taht differed astonishingly.

Kiersten said...

Awwww. A love that transcended pronunciation.

What I love about you crazy UKers is that you can hear the accent and pinpoint exactly where the person is from. "Oh, listen to the way she said her 'a', clearly from Wolfhamtonwarwicglausterworchesterlivershire."

Also, I love your town names. Couldn't pronounce most of them if my life depended on it, but I still love them. And someday I'll visit and slaughter everything. Well, the pronunciations, at least. I'll let the townsfolk live.

Whirlochre said...

Loughborough always causes problems for the unwary, mainly because the two oughs are pronounced differently.

And, no — it's not looger-berooger.

As for the Welsh, they have so many ludicrous place names, foreigners have been known to dehydrate trying to clear their throats over a taxing Llanfairfach.

Robin S. said...

Congrats, Whirl!

Seems like you've always had a blog. I know you haven't - but it would be weird for you not to have one now. Too weird and crummy to contemplate.

Aerin said...

I had to learn a Welsh accent to play the Titanic-surviving chick from "Scotland Road." It sucked. I believe the review was something to the effect that I was wonderful, perfect, marvelous in the first act, and then I opened my mouth for the second act. Ouch.

I'm not sure about the voice as a 'versary celebration, as we do it with Robin's voice thingies. No, it needs to be something astounding, special, something that makes people want to come in droves to experience.

Wait, now we're back to Genitals are My Kryptonite, aren't we.....

Aerin said...

As I was tormented last evening by insomnia, I thought of a way to celebrate your bloggiversary - don't celebrate it. Wait a week or so, then, a la Lewis Carroll, celebrate your unbloggiversary.

*ducks as the stuffed monkey is thrown*

Whirlochre said...

Nope Aerin — this is an inert monkey moment.