Tag Archives: Vaseline

I’m No Michaelangelo

16 Oct

Daily Prompt: Michelangelo’s YOU

The Pieta, by Michelangelo

The Pieta, by Michelangelo (Photo credit: kiwizone)  AKA Hub Carrying His Missus To The Hospital On The Occasion Of Her Blackhead

Your personal sculptor is carving a person, thing, or event from the last month of your life into the glistening marble of immortality. What’s the statue and what makes it so significant?

The statue is a large, flaking pimple.

This is what I look like at the moment:

Okay, the flaky skin was cured by copious amounts of Vaseline and the seventy-year old woman staring out from the mirror has lost twenty years; but now I am lumpy.

On Monday evening sometime after nine, I suddenly felt an ache on my neck.  I suspected a lump but couldn’t really find one.  Yesterday morning it had appeared.  Yesterday evening it was stretching its legs down my neck tendons and feeling quite sore.  This morning it hurt.  Fortunately, that is easing as the day goes on.

Naturally, I reached out for expert help.  

Google says it’s a goitre, which means I’m either infected or hormonal.

You choose.  But don’t mess with me…I have a disgusting thing and I’m not afraid to use it.


Teddy Bear’s Pic-Not

11 Oct

The manky eyelids are clearing up, I’m happy to report.  The Hub suspects I had an allergic reaction to make up wipes.  The skin around my eyes is puffy and flaky but Vaseline seems to be doing the trick.

That’s the official reason for my swollen eyelids, anyway.  The truth is, Tory Boy left yesterday, after his ten-day visit – arrived on my birthday; left on his father’s: he has his priorities right – and now I feel like this:


Photos courtesy of Tory Boy

The boys and I were walking the dogs in the rain when Tory Boy noticed that poor, sad teddy, sitting on a bin.

That’s how I feel every time one of my children isn’t here.


On the flip side, I get my office back!  There’s always a silver lining.


The Beginning Of The Enderverse

10 May

Regular readers of this blog know, having been told over and over (and assuming that they were paying attention), that Ender’s Game by Scorson Ott card…let me re-type that, I’m so excited!…by Orson Scott Card, is my Desert Island Book. Assuming, that is, that they give you a book on top of the Bible and The Complete Works of Shakespeare.  If not, I might have to take it as my luxury item instead of the giant vat of Vaseline I had set my heart upon.

Vaseline is fabulous:

  • Lubricant: to grease rusted screws from washed-up airplane parts that I can turn into three-storey homes and life rafts
  • Skin softener: to protect me from the harsh elements
  • Lip salve: Vaseline’s most vital function in my own universe: have you ever tried smiling at strangers when your lips are cracked?  Don’t.  It frightens them
  • Frying grease: I’ll need all my fat stores, obviously, because I can’t hunt or grow vegetables.  My best hope will be to eat suicidal sharks.  I’ve eaten shark.  It tastes fishy.  But I don’t do sushi, hence the Vaseline.  Fat stores are the reason I don’t diet – in case of desert island castawaying.  I find a good precaution is never wasted
  • Sore sealant: it’s what they put on boxers’ cuts to stop the blood obscuring their vision as they pound each other to pulp.  Which brings me back to Ender’s Game:

My beloved eldest son (this month’s favourite child as a result of what I’m about to tell you) sent me a link yesterday: the film of the book is FINALLY made!

The book was written in 1985 and is beloved around the world, but various attempts to film it were defeated because the Battle Room was just too difficult to turn into hard copy.

Thankfully, CGI is now so sophisticated, the dream has become reality. Imaginary reality, of course, but you get my drift.  Remember – the enemy’s gate is down!

I’m sure it won’t be the only book in the series to be filmed, but I do hope they go the Bean route rather than the Ender route.

You don’t know what I’m talking about, but I don’t care: I’m happy in my own little world.  Unlike poor Ender, a lonely child soldier.

Dystopian futures – I love ’em.  Ho!



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