"C.B.A."

"C.B.A." is not a reference to the "Criminal Bar Association", the "Council for British Archaeology", the "Center for Backyard Astrophysics", nope, none of those. "C.B.A." stands for, "Can't Be Arsed."

I'd tell you why I didn't participate in the "A to Z", but I can't be arsed.  However, perhaps ironically, I've done my best to support those involved.  So I guess I was slightly arsed.

"C" is for "Cheese."  I love cheese.  The stronger, the stinkier, the better.  Cheese so smelly, so ripe, that just the aroma wafting up, heading directly for your nose, is enough to singe your nostril hairs.    

Dogs love cheese.  Well, every dog I've offered cheese to has gone into a frenetic fun-filled frenzy.  Note Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar's enthusiasm over the pack of cheese.

I love cottage cheese.  I have noted that folks here in England are not that keen on cottage cheese.  That's very good.  This means, at the "reduced price" section in the supermarket, the army of 'old rage pensioners', who clear out everything else, by the trolley load, leave me the tubs of cottage cheese. 

At this point, I would probably attempt a few predictable cheese puns.  I know, you Gouda be kidding.  Instead, I offer you a series of films, and no, not the film on really stinky cheese, but movie type films that were dedicated to cheese.  'The Big Cheesy', 'Cheesy Rider', 'Five Cheesy Pieces', 'Cheesy Come, Cheesy Go' and of course, who could forget this classic British cheesy movie,  'Cheese Sir!'.

Now, I have no idea what kind of cheese you like.  Maybe you hate cheese.  Perhaps the idea of being overwhelmed by the fumes of really strong cheese, makes you think of these lyrics, 'cheese release me, let me go...'    Then again, to kinda', sorta' quote John Lennon, '..all we are saying is give cheese a chance...'

"B" is for "Blog Air."  Oh yes, the blogger's favourite airline. Wonder where I'd sit on Blog Air?  Would I be sitting with the self-obsessed bloggers?  Nope.  Will I be amongst the self-promoting bloggers?  Definitely not.  Will I be in the section of the plane where the 'hey let's have yet another competition on my site, because I love y'all and it has nothing whatsoever to do with me trying to get more bloggers to follow my blog, bloggers'?  Of course not.  Will I be sitting beside a blogger who links into every blogging site they see and has like a thousand 'followers' after a week, because other bloggers notice their icon and thus link into their blog?  Umm, no way.  Will I be sitting amongst the blogger 'sheep' or as I call them 'Bleeps', who go to sites and heap praise and worship the self-obsessed blogger?  No chance. 

I suppose, based on the above paragraph, you might assume that I would be sitting in the cynical bloggers section of Blog Air.  Me cynical?  Never!  Me sarcastic?  Never been sarcastic in my life, ever! 

No, this shy and humble blogger on this unassuming site, will be down in the cargo hold.  Down there with the exotic animals, an iguana named Fred, a kiwi named Marvin and a couple of bloggers who do nothing but blog about cats.  Help me!   

"A" is for "Anarchic Alphabet Alternative."  So to you, my friend, at the "A to Z", thank you for visiting the "Z to A."

Doughnuts, Donuts, Doh Nuts!

Okay, the posting below is a posting I've done before.  So, if by chance, you've read it before, perhaps doughnut or donut bother reading it again.

I remember my first year of high school.  I got to meet new students and become familiar with their special talents. Do I mean the guy in P.E. who won the one mile race, with the exception of that one time I, your typical geeky dude, decided to win the one mile race and really piss him off?  Ummm..no.   Do I mean the star of the grade eight basketball team?  No, again.  Maybe the guy who never lost a game in the after school chess club?  Wrong.  Or, perhaps the special talents of Nancy?  Well perhaps, "ah Nancy..'"  but nope, wrong again.

No, we're talking real talent.  Like those kids who could place their hand under their armpit and proceed to make this super exciting "farting" sound.  Or the guy who could pick his nose and flick the snot onto the blackboard, with amazing accuracy.  Did I have a special talent?  Glad you asked.  Well some might have thought that I was a very good class president and public speaker.  Yet my obvious gift was the fact I could place my index finger and middle finger together, blow through the crack and make a noise that sounded very much like a really juicy fart.  That's real talent and I know my English teacher was most impressed.

All these special talents, pale by comparison, to the fantastic gift this one guy had.  Ken had natural abilities that left me in awe and admiration.  Oh yeah, Ken could do the lesser accomplishments such as tooting a mean tune and leaving a vaporous, stench-filled cloud, wafting down the aisles.  However, his greatest and most cherished gift was his skill of "puking on demand."

Now a lot of us didn't like French class.  French class occurred right after lunch.  So during lunch we would collect enough money to purchase a dozen chocolate doughnuts for Ken.  Ken would gulp them down in rapid succession.  At the start of French class, a ghastly, curdling, vomiting noise, emanated from Ken's mouth.  Then it happened.  From the mouth of Ken spewed forth a great brown cascade of slimy, chocolatey goo, slithering and flowing down the aisle towards the front of the classroom and the shoes of the teacher.  "Je me sans malade!",  screamed the French teacher.  What she said, translated into English, is apparently, 'I feel sick!' 

Some screamed and some laughed.  Yes me, and those in the know, laughed with hysterics.  The janitor was summoned and he proceeded to throw great lumps of sand on the offending heaving mass of puked-out chocolate doughnuts.  Due to the overwhelming, nostril hair burning stench, the classroom was evacuated.   Ooh la la! and magnifique!  We all headed back to the cafeteria and celebrated with some chocolate doughnuts.

One time in French class, I was given the great privilege of being "designated puker." I stuffed myself with chocolate doughnuts, willingly donated by my fellow, well-meaning classmates.  Sadly, although I gave a noble effort, my end result in chucking up, was nowhere near as profound and inspirational as Ken's mighty effort.  Ken is one of my true heroes.  I believe the guy should have received an award for actions, above and beyond the call of duty.   

Egged On.

Have you ever watched an "egg and spoon", race?  Well, I've observed a few egg and spoon races and the outcome has always been the same.  Agonisingly close, the egg ends up winning, because the, "dish ran away with the spoon."

Do you think that spoons like "spoonerisms"?  If a spoon could talk, would it get its 'metters lixed'?  Well, frankly, I don't 'shive a git'.  'Swoving miftly on....'

"Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle."  So what's that all about?  "The cow jumped over the moon. The little dog laughed to see such fun and the dish ran away with the spoon."  So, just what is it all about?  It's about illuminating the minds of children of all ages.  Creativity and wonderment knows no boundaries.

Our friend, the spoon, despite losing the race, never gives up.  For, our friend, the spoon, knows that one day soon, it will win the race.  Does this happy spoon stir your imagination?

In the face of adversity, do you find that inner resolve and determination to never give up, very much like the spoon?  

You are egged on with encouragement.

What The "F"?

I could think of a lot of words starting with "F".  And some of them are in no way connected to Anglo Saxon expletives!

I observed that somebody residing in France made note that they'd finished their postings for the duration of the challenge that I would never participate in.  You might of heard of the alternative to my anarchic alphabet challenge. They are going from A to Z.  Fancy that.

Anyway, after noting their profile update on a certain social network site, I thought perfect, "F" is for "France!"  So thank you for the inspiration, Elise Fallson   And yes, France is awesome!

So, "F" is for "France."  Or should I say the bizarre conversations I've had with a few English people about France. Conversations such as, "Those bloody French!  How ignorant are they?  I went to France and they didn't even have the decency to speak in English!  And don't get me started on the public toilets I noted in Carcassonne!"  At which point the same person asks me, "Would you like a baguette?  Perhaps some gateau?"  What the "F"?

Speaking of social networks, or is that social 'notworks', "F" is for 'Farcebook', everyone's favourite social 'notworking' site.  Yes, a site where you can read my vitally important to your life, profile updates.  Updates such as, "Hi there, I was contemplating doing a blog about apathy but couldn't be bothered.  Somebody asked me if I was always indecisive.  Well yes and no."  Yep, "F" is for 'Farcebook.'

"F" is for "Fidelina", the beautiful fairy princess.  Here she is heavily pregnant with a child that would be symbolic of her love for her husband, Geoffrey the garden gnome.

Here is Fidelina posing proudly with her husband, Geoffrey and their boy child, Einahalk.

"F" is for "Fellatio."  Which is an obscure Italian opera from the eighteenth century.  Unfortunately, the name of the composer of "Fellatio", is a mystery, subject to oral conjecture.  Now that really sucks.

I Haven't Gone.

Yes, you can breathe a sigh of relief. I know how much you eagerly anticipate my um .must-read postings.  In other words, I haven't gone.  Nope, still being a rebel, an anarchist of the alphabet!  So much so, not only doing the Z to A, but have even been known to type some words, ǝpısdn uʍop.

I!... I!...I!  Why is "Eye" spelt with an "E"?  Perhaps a 'pupil' named 'Iris' might let me know.

And without batting an 'Ilid', I continue one.  

"I" is for "Inner Space."  You may have read the following before.  If so, I hope you don't mind reading it again.  

And man reached out to the heavens.  Outer space, a wondrous place of countless stars, countless galaxies and countless questions.

And man, gazed deeply into outer space and forgot about his inner space.  For man's heart beat with a brutal savagery.   He shed the blood of his brother's and sister's in the name of greed, of hatred, of betrayal, of deception. He invaded the space, the personal space of the scared, the innocent, the vulnerable.  Yes, in his pursuit to progress, to advance, mankind lost touch with that precious gift.  The gift of the inner child.

And man's lust to conquer, to destroy, to steal from his fellow man, lived on.   Then one day, one momentous day, it happened.  One man looked around, saw the rivers of blood and heard a gentle whisper.  The whisper was the voice of his inner child and it said, "This has to stop.  I want to play, to sing, to dance, to smile, to laugh and love.  Please, we must make this stop."  The man looked over at his blood-soaked enemy and asked, "Can you hear it?  Listen carefully, for your inner child has a message for you, for all of us.'" And his blood-soaked enemy listened and he smiled.  The word spread.  The voice of the inner child, the inner space, spread far and wide.  The bells rang out with the chimes of peace.  Enemies embraced and enemies became friends.

That was a long, long time ago, on that blue and fragile planet.  Mankind reached out and explored the beauty of outer space.  And the message he brought was of acceptance, understanding, hope and peace.  And it all began that day when that one man realised that inner space was the final frontier.

"H" is for "Hope."  The above photo is Mount Hope, near Hope, British Columbia, Canada.  

"G" is for "Garbage Gobbler."  The one with the bigger mouth is the Garbage Gobbler.  Garbage Gobbler meet Gary the "Garbage Bloggler."

What The L Klahanie Jests.

I know, I know, what the "L" am I doing a challenge in reverse for?  Because I'm not actually participating in the "A to Z Blogging Challenge."   Of course, the co-hosts 'begged' me to participate.  However, I would never commit my site to an entire month of such a challenge.  No, not me.

"L" is for "Learner."  Did you know that in Britain you have to have a licence for your TV?  It took me ages to finally pass my test.  Most annoying having to have a learner sticker stuck on the screen until I finally passed my test.  The test entailed watching fifty hours of cooking shows and you can never watch enough cooking shows.  It also required watching  fifty hours of idiots who giggled, jumped around a lot and said, "Oh my God!", in every other sentence.  Yes indeed, fifty hours of "reality" TV.

Note Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar posing with the "L" sticker that was removed from my TV when I passed the test for my TV licence.

"L" is for Leek, Staffordshire, England.  Not to be confused with Leek, Holland.  I moved to Leek in England because I always wanted to live in a town named after an onion.  And speaking of leek, our friend Hilary at this site, did an informative posting on the legendary leek.  If you have never visited Hilary, here she is :  Positive Letters....inspirational stories....

"K" is a special letter to me.  Kinda' kompletely konsumed konsequences konsidering klahanie.

"K" is for "K-Y Jelly."  After using said jelly, "Kleenex" may come in handy.

"J" is for "Jack rabbit."  A jack rabbit wearing a jacket.  I think it's a jack rabbit.  Then again, maybe I'm just splitting 'hares'.

"J" is for "Jack Rabbit."  "Jessica Rabbit" is so jealous!  

Metrosexual Rides Again.

Today, we all reach the letter "M".  Yes, those of you doing the A to Z, we meet up.  Like passing letters on the alphabet sea, we pass by.  Like two ships passing in the night, the good ship "A to Z" passes the good ship, "Z to A."

Due to overwhelming demand, I have reposted this one from last year.  Okay, slight exaggeration.  A certain superstar dog, a confused hedgehog and a couple of garden gnomes, asked me to repost the following.  

A number of folks assume that, "Metrosexual is a neologism derived from metropolitan and heterosexual, coined in 1994, describing a man (especially one living in an urban, post-industrial, capitalist culture) who spends a lot of time and money on shopping for his appearance."  Source: Wikipedia. 

  

However, there is another meaning to Metrosexual that precedes the commonly regarded definition.  'Metrosexual' is a person who has a bizarre sexual fetish regarding public transport.  In particular, subway and underground systems with the name "Metro" in them.  There are plenty of examples of rapid transit systems that have the word Metro in them and you will note the Metrosexuals eagerly clambering onto them and finding the location with the most advantageous vibration.  My favourite Metro system has the intriguing name,  "Belo Horizonte Metro", which is located in Belo Horizonte, Brasil.

  

So, if you see somebody riding the Metro, who fondles the seats, insists on stroking the hanging overhead knobs, has a silly grin on their face and groans a lot, they may well be a Metrosexual   If someone gets on the London Underground and says they just love anything involving "The Tube", they may well be a Metrosexual.  If  you are talking to someone and they can't stop talking about their love of "BART" (Bay Area Rapid Transit), then indeed, they might just be a Metrosexual.  Metrosexual gives the name of that play, "A Streetcar Named Desire", a much deeper meaning. 

Okay, not exactly a Metro system, but a bus is a form of public transport.  This is the bus that goes to the big city from the little town I live in.  This can be a fun ride, as the roads are needing repair and those potholes can be an extra moment of Metrosexual joy.......

And to get it out of the way, there is neologism derived from Neapolitan and heterosexual.  Or "N" is for 'Neasexual'.  Neasexual is a bizarre sexual fetish regarding being covered in triple flavoured ice cream, whilst having an orgasm....

So there you go, if you're still contemplating an "N", I went forwards from backwards to give you an idea for an "N".  

ON We Go In Reverse.

"O" no, I seem to still be doing the backwards alphabet or ǝpısdn uʍop.

Out there, there's an ocean of opportunity waiting for you, waiting for me.  With an open mind and a song in our heart, we embrace the goals, beyond the green, beyond the beach and outwards to the sea.  Life and the ocean of diversity that awaits.  An ocean of possibilities, of dreams, of passion, of aspirations that you can, that I can, fulfil.

In the teeming ocean that is humanity, may we move on from stigma, from bias, from the apathy and indifference that plagues society.  We can learn.   Learn to understand.   And through awareness and celebrating an all different, all equal world, we move that one step closer to a planet of peace.

Within the orchestra of understanding, we all have the instruments to create sweet music.  In the chorus of caring, we all have the voices that sing in joyous harmony.  "O" is the ocean of serenity.

Nature and respecting the balance that is essential to all life.  I nurture my appreciation of nature's natural balance.  I rejoice in the magic that is "klahanie".  Klahanie is a word from the Chinook tribe who reside in the Pacific Northwest of  North America.  The definition of klahanie is generally accepted as meaning, "the great outdoors."   The spirit of the noble indigenous First Nation's people lives within my heart and soul.

When I went on a walk with the West Coast tribes of British Columbia, on a one hundred mile, three day walk, a wide-eyed fifteen year old boy, learnt the lessons of being as one with nature.  From Vancouver to the fittingly named town of Hope, British Columbia, we walked together, in unity on the profound journey that was "Moccasin Miles."

Between the trees in the great outdoors, flies the freedom we can know.  Peace to you, my friend in an "N" is for nature and a natural balance world.

Penny's Pawfound Pawsitive Pawsting Pawsenting "P" Paw "Penny"!

Hi there, yes it's me, Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar!  I've noticed my human, Gary, yes the guy I so kindly allow to live with me, has been doing some sort of alternate alphabet challenge. He's a rebel.  A non-conformist.  Likes to do things his way.

I also notice he seems to be doing the alphabet in reverse and doing more than one letter at a time on his postings.  Well to heck with doing more than one letter at a time.  Yep, despite my obvious modesty, this pawsting, oops, posting is dedicated to just one letter.  The letter "P".  Indeed, "P" as in me, Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar!  And in honour of me, I'm going to delight you with a bunch of photos of me, yes me, such a humble dog.

That's right, I have my very own award that I send out to bloggers just to say
thank you.  I have sent this award to humans and animals who understand the ideals of unconditional, non-judgemental love.  There are no rules.  Never a need to link back to my site.  Just an award with a lot of meaning, a lot of feeling.  This award has travelled the world.  It has spread the peace and joy intended.

Note my award being part of a poster campaign.

Here I am guarding over the wee folks in my magical garden.

Two of my adoring fans idolising one of my posters.

One of my larger billboards.  I believe they're about to remove me and replace my amazing self with an ad for a Kim Kardashian perfume set.  Oh the horror of it all!

I'm sure you are aware I have millions of adoring feline fans.

Hello cat.  Yes I pawmise to pawst another pawsting fairly soon.

                                                   Hello to my fans in Canada, eh! 

Having some moments of gentle reflection as my human brother, Tristan, sleeps.

Almost time for me to go.  And go, I really need to go.  Come on Tristan, hurry up and get out of the bathroom!  Time to take you for a walk.

Wish me luck.  This diva dog has to watch out for the pesky 'puparazzi' that always hound me.  Come on Tristan, I need to "P"........  

Something Regarding Queues.

S is for Syllable, the final frontier.  These are the voyages of the Starship Alphabet.  My one month mission, to explore strange new words, to seek out new linguistics and new consonants, to boldly go where no metaphor has gone before.

"Ah Captain, I canny no do a vowel moment!"  "Scotty!  You may be suffering from an irregular verb."  "Aye  Captain, aye!"  "Captain?"  "Yes Mr. Spock?"  "Can I have a look at your Captain's 'log'?"

R is for Repetition.  I repeat.  R is for Repetition.

Q is for Quota
Fulfilling the rota.
Q is for Queue
Or line up to you
An orderly Queue
We try to do
Q is for Queer
Have no fear
Q is for Queen
Know what I mean
We will rock you
One does, it's true
Q is for Quick
Fast and slick
Q is for Query
Agent ignores you, insincerely.

WVUT

"WVUT"  is not a reference to an American radio or television station's call letters.  This is my ongoing mission to seek out new  words, to boldly go where no other alphabet has gone before.  Welcome to the alphabet in an alternative universe.

And thus, the alternate alphabet challenge, brought to you by this congenial host, continues.

"W" is for Wedding.  As in the "Wee Folks Wedding".  Fidelina, the beautiful fairy princess and Geoffrey the garden gnome, were wed in my magical garden.  True demonstration of love in their world where no stigmas are attached.  A wee world where wondrous wishes will warmly wander with wholesome wholehearted  wellbeing.  Yes, their world is a world where diversity is celebrated.  An all different, all equal world.

"V" is for "Veronica", my former wife.  Here she is with our son when he was only eight days old.  There was a time, way back when, that I was her knight in shining armour.  I rescued her from a life to horrendous to imagine.  And her knight's armour became tarnished.  I pray that she is happy in the life she now does live.

"U" is for "Upside Down Cake".  I ate an upside down cake.  Or did I eat a cake upside down?

"U" is for "Understanding".  Understanding that within us beats the heart of caring, of compassion, for mankind, for our precious wildlife.  An understanding that we must do all we can to save our precious planet.  A legacy to leave this planet, a greener, cleaner, more peaceful place.

"T" is for "Tristan".  You see him here, no longer a baby but four years old.  A child of sweet innocence.  A wonder to behold.

And here he be, my young man.  Feet on the table and he smiles.  And those smiles, yes those smiles of sunny days, of carefree days, when life was getting better.  

Now my young man, my Tristan is oh so sad.  Life has been a challenge for a number of years.  Yet he will find, I will find, inspiration through adversity.  For I know that the smile shall return to Tristan's face.