Archive for playful

I Like Dot. A Lot.

Posted in Art Lover, Cinema & Filmmaking, In Celebration of the Absurd, Movies & Movie Stars, Photography, Technicolor Pop with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 20, 2010 by alphabetfiend

And now a magical bedtime story for you , my loveys.

Meet Dot.

You’re gonna like Dot. You’re gonna like Dot alot. Just you wait.

Once you watch this, you will know how much I truly do love you. Be sure to watch it in full-screen mode!

Sleep tight, darlings. Dream like you mean magic.

Catch some Z’s like fire-flies, let ’em light up your mind like they light up a mason jar in July.

We’ll talk tomorrow.

Shush.

Shh.

***********************

*Peewee Herman turned me onto this. I heart Peewee.

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Do I get Extra Pirate Points For Having the Coolest Eye-Patch?

Posted in Goof & Glamour, I Heart Holidays, I Heart My Love-Tribe, In Celebration of the Absurd with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 20, 2010 by alphabetfiend

Today is International Talk Like A Pirate Day, for those of you who might not already know. I’m sure most of you have been bombarded with Aaaaargh’s and Aye Matey’s all day long.

I’m nutter for holidays. I relish any opportunity for full-blown festivity. Seriously. Just ask my peeps and wait for the groans. But aside from calling my pup a PAWrate today, I really haven’t been making an effort.

Will it make up for my lack of pirate-talk if I post a picture of me-as-Plush D* in what is surely the coolest eye-patch ever?

 

Bedecked with outlaw bling, this sucker is a beloved treasure. Is it any wonder why? Yes, I know you are jealous. I can’t help that. Don’t hate me because my eye-patch is beautiful.

Extra points?

Extra points for being a glam wench with lotsa BOOTY? Y’know, pirate booty, like loot; jewels, gems, bling-bling, gewgaws. Oh, and ASS. I gotsa lotsa ass. AYE am an assly lass.

My Bike is a Magical Pony

Posted in Adventures in Design, Dork Alert, Goof & Glamour, In Celebration of the Absurd with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 16, 2010 by alphabetfiend

I rode a horse long before I ever road a bike. Born in the nothern New Mexico mountains, I was riding bareback by the time I was 2. Too bare from the sound of it. “You were just like Lady Godiva!” my dad would boast, often in mixed company. The horse was Jack. My Dad had known him for many years and trusted him. Not one to spook, Jack was emotional, intuitive, gentle and wise. I was never afraid.

It wasn’t until we moved to Toledo that my grandpa gifted me with a sparkly Schwinn, presenting it to me like it was a Cadillac car (which it became.)  

The bike scared me way more than the horse, or at least it did for for one terrifying 1/2 hour, after the training wheels came off. I was still uncertain of the physics but my Dad wasn’t willing to mosey through the big-girl bike process. (Years later, when teaching me t0 ride a motorcycle, he employed the exact same “Now or Never, Do or Die” method.) 

Once I managed to stay up after he broke his vow and let go — WOW! A bike with training wheels is like an orgasm without a moan. The release that comes with speed or sound, mmm. The bliss of velocity, the rush of movement, oh I was hooked. I hardly missed horses after that.

And when I did, my bike became a rusty stallion; mane blowing in the wind, hooves hitting cobblestone.

A few of the roads in our little south Toledo hood were brick paved and ahhh that pompompompompom sound still thrills.

Wasn’t I just telling y’all about the furious pedaling that took place as I rode my bike home from the library?  The potency is undiluted by the years. The musty papery scent of library books combined with the snapzap of rubber & gravel.  Those memories are saturated by the heady oomph of freedom. I had a lipstick red convertible Caddy and a platinum AM EX  (cherry red schwinn, library card) It’s not surprising that I often find myself back there in my dreams, navigating those roads in a strange bike-car hybrid.

For a kid, a bicycle is always more than a bike.  To you, it’s a beater with a banana seat. To them it’s a Venice beach lo rider or a gondola gliding along the canals of the otherVenice. To you, it’s a crooked big wheel. To them, it’s a monster truck.

Kids are always peddling in a ghosty aura or otherness.

Which is why I’m madly in love with “horsey,” eungi kim’s entry in ‘seoul cycle design competition 2010‘.   Kim’s design entry was shortlisted from over 3000 designs. The designboom competition was organized in collaboration with the  seoul design foundation.

Kim’s clever creation turns any bike into a magical pony.

 

Kim describes the product thusly:
 

‘horsey’ is an attachable bicycle ornament/accessory which makes one’s bicycle look horsey!
the ‘horsey’ package includes wooden ornaments (horsey shape body), metal parts, and screws.
the manual is very simple so that anyone can easily arrange it according to one’s needs.
through this ‘horsey’ project. I wanted to give a special look to bicycles so that people would care
about cycling not only as transportation but also as a lovely pet.

 

I think “horsey” is a magical ode to dreaming. I have just two concerns.

1) Will this horsey actually be sturdy enough for the kind of galloping I’ve got in mind?

2) When will you be launching a unicorn version?

Cause I’d like to order one of those suckers in either black licorice or pink neon. Hmm. What do you think? Black unicorn or pink unicorn?

Sexy Mermaid Vay-Cay Get-a-Way (for Alice)

Posted in Art & Culture, Art Lover, Buxom Goo Goo, Goof & Glamour, I Heart Mermaids, Mythos with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 14, 2010 by alphabetfiend

Alice has been fantasizing about “a luxurious, decadent, and totally out of reach beach rental in Florida, especially for Mermaids, I kid you not.”

“Mermaid Castle” is the oldest beach house in Crescent Beach, Florida. The house, once a small grove of cypress, sleeps 12 and is available for holiday rentals.

“Mermaid Castle” features a tiki hut, a jacuzzi and a swimming pool perfect for re-infusing our scaly tails with much needed moisture. Also — so we don’t get too homesick for Atlantis, which is such a sorrowful “itis,” just ask Alice — there are “breathtaking ocean views.”

It’s no wonder Alice is inspired to play hostess (with the mostess.) 

“What a tea party I would throw. Of course, I would invite the Mad Hatter, Foxy Trickster, and the illusive brown rabbit with the black spots.”

Did you catch that, sailors?

I’ve been given a sought-after invite to Alice’s tea party. That’s me, Foxy Trickster!

I just can’t wait to meet the Hatter. I hear he’s very, how do they say? Eccentric. Those are my people, y’know. The Eccentrics. Jonathan Zap calls us mutants, I call us mermaids. Some people say weirdos to which I say “Woo-hoo!”

Oh what a tea-party that would be!

There on Crescent Beach, sipping maitais outta porcelain teacups, stuck haphazardly with technicolor paper umbrellas. We’d munch on a rainbow array of Parisian macaroons shaped like swirly seashells. We’d play poker with oceanic ante: tiny starfish & coin-sized turtles with orange sherbet bellies. We’d nap in poolside hammocks as the pages (and our fins) flapped in the salty breeze.

Around midnight, we’d don sequin mini-dresses & fishnet stockings. We’d order dark rum ON THE ROCKS  and lure shy seaman, who would crash into us with the velocity of a tsunami.

Of course they’d be long gone come morning (er, some might call it “afternoon.”) We’d awake satisfied, dreamy-eyed and mop-headed. We’d gossip about the evening’s exploits as we lolled beneath paper parasols (like in our teacups, only big.)We’d flop our tails in the sunshine, trading sexy tips & naughty details.

“Like what?” you wonder, with your drawers a-stir.

Well….a mermaid never kisses & tells (outside of a tea party) but let’s just say that we use what our mer-mama’s gave us.

MMMmmm. Mermmmermermermermmm. Mmm.

Get it, knucklehead?

Mermaids are experts at fellatio!

(Or cunnilingus, for those of us who prefer femmes.)

>Wink wink < 

*************************************

The painting “Fishnets” is by the whimsical & wonderful Nancy Farmer. Prints are available. If you have some time, lotsa time, swim on over to the artist’s site. Nancy Farmer must be a mermaid herself because you WILL get hopelessly ensnared. I once spent several hours in her “net” and when I finally came out of her sea-song trance my shirt was soaked with drool and I’d grown a fine set of demon horns. Be forewarned!

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