<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730</id><updated>2011-07-30T08:43:00.035-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Paul's "G"odivaspot</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>30</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-4069103322078335647</id><published>2010-09-23T08:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-23T09:09:37.367-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PERMA-NAMA-NAMA-NENT!!!!</title><content type='html'>It is with the most DESPERATE of GLEES that I can zwiddle a-luft, that I announce to one and all, that all attempts to have me shipped out of Canada have failed, and will continue to do so.  I AM NOW A PERMA-NAMA-NENT RESIDENT in the country of Canada!!!  I am one giant twister-move to becoming a citizen of this great country!!!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But of course, let me share with you the events that led up to this great moment in time:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2004.  I packed up my meagre belongings and left my home in Kingston, Jamaica.  My father drove me to the airport.  My traveling route was to fly to Montego Bay on Air Jamaica, and then, continue on Air Canada to Toronto, with a connecting flight to Winnipeg.  I checked in for my flight, got my favourite seat, and proceeded to the departure lounge.  My flight should have left at 8:30AM.  I began to worry when it was past 10:00AM and we had not been called for our flight!  Then the next announcement I heard sent shivers down my bosoms! "May I have your attention please.  All passengers already checked in on Air Jamaica flight 021 with service to Montego Bay, your flight has been cancelled. We regret the inconvenience." As I sat there, I thought to myself that I will miss my connexion and that would be that.  So I darted to the ticket counter to try to get on to the Air Jamaica Express flight going to Montego Bay. It was already full!  So then, I began looking into my options:  Do I spend copious amounts of the little money I had to hire a taxi to risk killing me to take me to Montego Bay on the double, or do I give up and wait for tomorrow?  And then, by Divine inspiration, I had an idea!  I had learnt of an Air Jamaica flight going to Toronto non-stop that day.  Maybe I could get myself on that flight!!!  So I skipped daintily (this was before I learned how to zwiddle desperately) back to the counter and FLUNG myself upon the counter BEGGING the sweet battle-axe on the other side to get me ON that flight, and she did just that!  She gave me the last seat available!!! Of course, this was after showing some ham-hock on the side you know.  I was desperate!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I was getting ready to land in Winnipeg, I remember wondering where the heck was I!  All I saw from the window of the plane was...miles and miles of, farmland!  As we were coming in for final approach, I began to see houses and other edifices.  My goodness I was in the middle of nowhere!!! And thus, my life in Winnipeg began!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;During the two years I lived in Winnipeg, I experienced great joys and sadnesses.  After following the instructions to change my status to student, given to me by the International Student Office, they proved to be incorrect, and I was ordered to leave Canada.  I appealed of course, because I could not just leave like that.  Canada, at that point, was my ONLY shot at a possible career.  So, for six months, while I waited for the appeal to be processed I lived in fear of being deported!  Every night I went to sleep, I lived in fear of any kind of knocking at the door, or any shadows gliding past my door in the night.  I memorized where all the important stuff I'd need in that event, and I was just uneasy for the entire time.  BUT, in ALL of that time, something with happening to me that I was not aware of.  My faith in God was getting stronger!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Eventually, I left the country and went back to Jamaica to the Canadian High Commission there, and got the paperwork all sorted out, and in a month, was able to return.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was also during my time in Winnipeg that something else that was very strange began to happen.  Somehow, people in Winnipeg got it into their heads that, if seasoned thoroughly, I'd roast up, or bake up quite nicely!  Thus began the reign of the cannibals!!!  I began having bizarre dreams of being chased by hungry, drooling Winnipeggers aiming me into a cauldron, or a vat of a good rub, or something of that nature.  They just did not (and still do not) believe it when I said that I was NOT and still am NOT edible, and that even if captured and marinated, I'd be a most unco-operative meal!!  Even in my last trip there, there were little kids gnawing on me for dessert!!! AAAAACK!!!  But despite all the teeth marks and cinnamon in my hair, I still love this city, and go back to visit every chance I get...in STEALTH mode of course!  And, while living there, I made two attempts (one in 2005 and the other in 2006) to establish permanent residency, but to no avail.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2006. Toronto! I packed up my meagre possessions once again and took flight to Toronto.  Leaving Winnipeg was very hard for me.  It felt like leaving mother!!! But it was time to zwiddle desperately onwards and outwards. I moved to Toronto and continued my quest for establishing myself as a permanent fixture.  I was back in school (this time, it was Opera School), and singing up a storm.  From that time until now, I have survived one of the biggest immigration scares of my life, rented a room in the home of a hoarder, been treated shamefully by some, but still, my faith continued to grow!  Finally, when I made my third attempt to 'emigrate' in 2007, I then went into a very frustrating wait!  For two whole years, the only thing I got from them was a letter acknowledging receipt of my application. It got to the point where I nearly gave up because it seemed as if they had either forgotten me, or that somehow, I had fallen through the cracks. With the help on an immigration lawyer, we began to slowly get some answers, and we both did a lot more waiting!  But during that time, my faith continued to grow, even though I could not see or perceive it.  Every time people would ask me about where my application was at, it would feel like twisting the dagger around in my pork!  It hurt!  And just when I was at the point of throwing my hands up in the air in defeat, things began to flow.  I got a letter requesting police clearances, then medical examinations, and other letters they needed.  And then, on Friday September 17th 2010 @ 10:33AM, a letter is delivered to me from the Canadian High Commission in Jamaica!  I hold my breath desperately! I turn three shades of bronze!!! I open it, and see *drum roll* THE CONFIRMATION OF PERMANENT RESIDENCE certificate!!!  Thanks be to ALMIGHTY GOD!!!  Here I am!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now do not forget to check out my other bloggy address at http://godivaspot.blog.com and catch up on the specific moments in times leading up to this point.  I am sure you'll find it...interesting!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MOI&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-4069103322078335647?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/4069103322078335647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/09/perma-nama-nama-nent.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/4069103322078335647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/4069103322078335647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/09/perma-nama-nama-nent.html' title='PERMA-NAMA-NAMA-NENT!!!!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-2495664284636894388</id><published>2010-09-16T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T10:27:10.094-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Myriad Ramblings On, and other Warblings, etc.</title><content type='html'>And now (*curtain slowly rises*) I am BACH to BLOGGIIIIIING!!!! (*oprah*) I have in recent times stopped blogging because I thought that no one was paying any attention to what I had to say, but now, I have come to the desperate conclusion that it is OK if no one is listening, or in this case, reading!  I have been doing so well at talking to myself, and answering my own questions that there is no reason why it should bother me that no one is paying attention.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Within the past fortnight, I have been wondering certain things.  One of those things I have been wondering is what life would be like for me if I was a shoe, or rather a pair of shoes. Now this conversation, I can see, would cause the person on the other end to develop a sudden severe case of constipation, or they may all of a sudden be endowed with the urge to watch paint dry, or to plant themselves in a garden watching little things grow, but this has stirred up some interesting thoughts, and of course, due to my generous nature, I am going to share them with you!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Being a pair of shoes would provide an interesting perspective on life.  First, one would get to see everything at ground level.  I do not think it would be so bad because then,  I get to see what other shoes have to endure from the people wearing them.  I'd hope that my owner would have well-kept feet though.  I cannot imagine what it would be like if my owners had feet riddled with athlete's foot, or bunions, or anything of the sort. But I digress. Getting to see life at ground level is very educational, because there is a lot that goes on south of our borders than we realize, and I'd get a front row seat to see who the secret snackers, and the perverts are, and knowing that being down there, I can be at the ready to give a swift kick to someone being naughty, or attempting to get fresh!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One gets to GO places!  And in going there, I'd get to meet other shoes and find out their stories. If shoes could talk, they'd have a lot to say, and in my little world, they do!  So then, I'd get to conspire with other shoes to go on a mutiny and leave our respective masters, and see the world, ON OUR OWN TIME!!! Have you ever noticed that when you are looking for one or a pair of shoes that seem to be missing for some reason, and you've heard it said many times, "well, they did not just get up and walk away, did they?"?  Well (*baritone chuckle*), I guess I will leave it at that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As a pair of shoes, I do not have to bother myself with such boring details as explaining myself to anyone. The main reason for that is that I always have a foot in my mouth, literally! The only thing that I'd have an aversion to are DOGS!  Cats I do not mind at all because all they can do to you is to rub themselves in and out of you, and drool all over you, especially when your master has a particularly ripe and well-aged pair of feet!  Dogs on the other hand have a tendency to drag you all over the house, and outside and every which way, and chew you to bits!  Maybe I was a pair of shoes in another lifetime (even though I do not believe in past life stuff). That would explain my particular resistance to being chewed, eaten, or in any other way masticated!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And finally, no one would accuse me of being crazy.  Shoes just, supposedly, sit there.  Or so we'd love you to keep thinking! I'd sit there literally beside myself in glee at the myriad ways I could drive my master out of his tree.  For instance, when put in the cupboard or shoe closet, or by the door, most likely, I'd be put in line with myself, laces tucked in, and neatly stowed.  Assuming that my master is a desperate neat freak, I can easily pigeon-toe myself, just to drive him batty.  Another way is, once cleaned and spit-shined, I could find a nice puddle outside to undo all that hard work in one fell swoop! That of course would start a chain of events, like, send my master into a mental tailspin, especially seeing that he lives alone, and is obsessed with being neat ALL the time!  It'd be TOO easy!  And then, when he goes for therapy, he'll blame me, the shoes, and then, they'd never let him walk out.  They'd carry him out, all trussed up in a nice white belted suit and taken somewhere to be sanitized, while I'd be free to roam about and continue to see the world!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh this is TOO much fun!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-2495664284636894388?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/2495664284636894388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-myriad-ramblings-on-and-other.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/2495664284636894388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/2495664284636894388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-myriad-ramblings-on-and-other.html' title='My Myriad Ramblings On, and other Warblings, etc.'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-7418166496007761960</id><published>2010-09-14T07:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-14T07:21:54.452-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just in case you didn't know it...</title><content type='html'>It's FACTOID TUESDAY!!! So, here are se7en things I have noted in the last week, which I am sure will tickle you senseless, and if not, they'll tickle me senseless just writing about them:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Cannibals DO exist in Toronto, though half of them are in denial and the other in the closet!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Torontonians seem to enjoy their constipated demeanor and have a desperate aversion to fibre!  They remind me of 4PM Saturdays in Superstore in Steinbach, MB with the omas!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The fact that babies coo and drool while gawking at me does not always mean they enjoy my company.  Most of the time, it means they are hungry and teething and want something rubbery to gnaw on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4.&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Hurricane Infant, which descended upon Toronto a fortnight ago, is petering out slowly, but is still packing quite the wallop and is still wreaking havoc in his wake!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5.&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Making the decision to leave facebook and begin blogging again is one of the most liberating experiences...this week at least!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6.&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Brick walls and glass doors do &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;not&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; soften with time!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7.&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;In blasting your way through there like a truck in a Wagnerian or Strauss orchestra, a beautiful tone is an absolute waste of time.  You are much better off with a factory whistle, foghorn or buzz-saw kind of voice, with a seismic cutting edge.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-7418166496007761960?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/7418166496007761960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/09/just-in-case-you-didnt-know-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/7418166496007761960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/7418166496007761960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/09/just-in-case-you-didnt-know-it.html' title='Just in case you didn&apos;t know it...'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-5463092816411410061</id><published>2010-07-29T09:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T10:13:54.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>To WinnaCANNIBALipeg and BEYOND!!!!  *splat!!!*</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;I have been having a DESPERATE BLAAAAAAAAAAAAST (*oprah*) being BACH in Winnipeg!!!!!  I mean, not taking into account that more people than ever before are aiming at my ham-hocks and trying to relieve me of them, stuff me full of chocolate and treat to fatten me up, and then, nibble little bits and pieces of me as I go zwiddling desperately past them, ham-hocks-a-blur!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;And as per typicule, it tickles me senseless whenever those of us from the Faculty can get together in a sort of reunion.  Unfortunately, we did not have a RETREAT!  RETREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAT!!!!!! this year,  but whenever we have seen each other, it is as if we were never apart!  Case in point, last night!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;I gave a free concert last night at Knox United Church to promote my new CD, "Sound an Alarm!" http://www.cdbaby.com/williamsonsmyth and to raise funds for the church. It was so good to see Cleopas, Jeanette, Percy and Desiree, and Keisha.  Just as I was about to sing, I saw a beam of light wash over the sanctuary, and I realized that a very glowing, and yet again, obviously pregnant Rossweisse had entered the room, practically floating, as if she was being wafted by little cherubs to her seat.  And sitting next to her was Arnold, who I was so tickled to see come after what he has been through recently.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Just as I opened my mouth to sing, about one-third of the audience reached into their satchels, and threw apples, aimed supposedly at my mouth!  One of them landed in there.  So I figured, "Oh how sweet!  They want to feed me again!"  So I ate (pronounced 'ETTE') the apple and then began singing.  Then, they all reached into their satchels again and pulled out what looked like serviettes, cutlery, crockery, spices, trussing cord, and, peanut butter??  It became apparent to me that this was NOT going to go down well!  I got the impression that they all responded to my advertising campaign, where I had to stand in the street, and show some ham-hock, and shake my back bacon just to put the scent in the air to attract them to attend my concert.  It backfired!!!  They thought they were all coming to DINNER!!!!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;Fortunately for me, I got the idea from a very annoying person on facebook (thank you!) to come prepared!  I swung by a farming tools store and got myself two rather large, high capacity cattle prods, with holsters!!!  And I made sure that they were strapped to my corpus and in view of the audience. As they rose from their seats to attempt to truss me to the spit they wheeled in the front door, I quickly whipped out the prods and knocked them together to show I meant business!  And, I had the good sense to lock the choir entrance door in the back so that they could not grab me from behind and haul me away!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;And with that, they sat back down, staring at me rather longingly, with drool dribbling down their chins, and realized that they'd have to settle for cookies and soda instead!  All in all, it was a good evening, and I did manage to sell some CDs!  The only thing I worry about now is when they listen to my CD they may associate it's music with dinner time!  I'll be gone in a week, so I'll just have to keep looking over my shoulder round to make sure no one is nibbling away at any part of me.  I thought being popular would be wonderful, but this is ridiculous!!!!  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:'times new roman';"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"&gt;MOI&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-5463092816411410061?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/5463092816411410061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/07/to-winnacannibalipeg-and-beyond-splat.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/5463092816411410061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/5463092816411410061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/07/to-winnacannibalipeg-and-beyond-splat.html' title='To WinnaCANNIBALipeg and BEYOND!!!!  *splat!!!*'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-4575866414006325379</id><published>2010-06-15T15:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-15T16:16:04.547-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The wonders of Prescription DRUGS!!!</title><content type='html'>*skips daintily in*  Now kids:  Stay AWAY from using drugs, unless your Dr. tells you to!!!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Since the crash, a lot has happened!  I have been submitting myself to being kneaded, pummeled, pin-cushioned, and threatened with more menu items being flung at MOI!  I have been going to physiotherapy in other words, and I have been coping with quite a bit of pain from the impact.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, I paid a visit to my neighbourhood shrink last week and flung myself upon his downy couch and allowed him limited access into my very sane and stable mind, to see if there is anything he can dredge up.  Well, he must have dredged up something because I saw him shaking and popping a pill and washing it down with vodka, and when I was finished, he ran screaming from his surgery and is now into selling glass slippers out of a suitcase!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before going stark raving mad, he did prescribe a sleep aid for me to take to help me get to sleep at night.  Of course, I was skeptical about all of this at first, but I decided that it was time to wimp UP and take the pill!!  So I did!  It does help me to fall asleep quite well.  It is while I am actually asleep that has me boggled!!  I have the strangest dreams!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One night, while under the influence of this drug, I dreamt that I was on a hill side, with sheep, COUNTING them!!!  I would start at the very beginning, which is a very good place to start, and then lose count, and have to start all over again!  And every time I would start over, they would turn into LAMBSHANKS!!!  So, to keep myself from thinking of mint jelly, I would walked away, and while doing so, fell off the mountain.  The shepherdess tried to save me, but she was too late trying to undo one of her Princess Leia buns for me to hold on to, that it was just too late.  So I fell into a tree.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then, when I realized that I was sitting on the pointed edges of a pineapple, I squealed and sprang out of the bush, when I saw a lion charging toward me with mouth agape and daggers drawn!  I closed my eyes, resigning to the thought that my ham-hocks were now on the menu, when just before he could eat me, while in mid-pounce, a gaggle of wonton belly-dancing hippos came flailing about gleefully pirouetting hither and thither, crushing the poor lion by knocking him out of mid air.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then, I turned around and was grabbed by an amazon temptress, named Ertha, who shoved me into her bosoms and carried me off to her lair where I became the cute little butterball, tied to a stake, and slowly turning over a hot fire! Being hungry at this point, I ate the apple that was shoved into my mouth, and hypnotized some spiders to chew me loose.  Then I escaped, on stilts and found a waterfall, where I ran smack into the nymphs and shepherds who were dancing in a ring and playing their little flutes and harps.  When they saw me, they grinned, showing their fang-filled mouths, and invited me to lie down on a bed full of jelly beans and take a nap.  When I refused to, they began shimmying their bosoms and started baking cakes at me, when I woke up!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have since stopped taking this medication.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MOI&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-4575866414006325379?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/4575866414006325379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/06/wonders-of-prescription-drugs.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/4575866414006325379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/4575866414006325379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/06/wonders-of-prescription-drugs.html' title='The wonders of Prescription DRUGS!!!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-8104826517678024013</id><published>2010-05-14T10:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T10:03:11.960-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How to 'spot' a Jamaican</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 18px; color: rgb(68, 68, 68); "&gt;&lt;div&gt;This was written by a Jamaican, and I just HAD to post it!  Enjoy!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How to spot a Jamaican&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems clear to me that Jamaicans are such a distinctive breed that one&lt;br /&gt;should be able to spot them anywhere.  Though we may resemble other persons&lt;br /&gt;of African descent, Jamaicans (Jamaicanus Cantankerous is the Latin name for&lt;br /&gt;the species) are easy to pick out if you know what to look for. But if you&lt;br /&gt;have a particular interest in Jamaicans and are finding it difficult to spot&lt;br /&gt;them outside of their "natural habitat" ( Jamaica ) here are a few pointers&lt;br /&gt;for spotting Jamaicans in the "wild".&lt;br /&gt;The first thing to do is to look for the obvious clues.  If you're on a New&lt;br /&gt;York subway going out for a late-evening drink, it should be obvious that&lt;br /&gt;the Jamaican in the crowd is the young lady with the low cut blouse who has&lt;br /&gt;covered her entire chest, from cleavage to neck, with baby powder.&lt;br /&gt;And if you're on a street in Brixton and spot a lad strolling confidently&lt;br /&gt;down the street in a knee-length, red, green and gold mesh marina, with&lt;br /&gt;nothing but his scrawny, bare chest under it, then this gentleman is quite&lt;br /&gt;likely a Jamaican. Similarly, if you spot a man, anywhere in the world, with&lt;br /&gt;a white rag wrapped up and stuffed into his back pocket (where a person of&lt;br /&gt;any other nationality would have placed a handkerchief) then this person is&lt;br /&gt;a Jamaican. No question.&lt;br /&gt;But these are the obvious physical clues.  To conclusively identify a&lt;br /&gt;Jamaican one needs to be acquainted with the more common behavioral traits&lt;br /&gt;of the species.&lt;br /&gt;But before we discuss these behavioral traits, a few words of advice. If you&lt;br /&gt;are going "Jamaican-spotting" please do so from a distance. Jamaicans do not&lt;br /&gt;like being followed or being stared at. Please also note that you risk a&lt;br /&gt;violent confrontation if you approach a Jamaican suddenly. We don't like&lt;br /&gt;being surprised. As far as we are concerned, only a duppy or a gunman would&lt;br /&gt;approach an innocent person without warning. Finally, we would be grateful&lt;br /&gt;if you avoid sharing these tips on Jamaican-spotting with members of the&lt;br /&gt;FBI, DEA or US Customs/Immigration. Jamaicans living abroad have enough&lt;br /&gt;problems as it is.&lt;br /&gt;Now we can return to our discussion of those peculiar habits and behaviors&lt;br /&gt;that set Jamaicans apart.&lt;br /&gt;If you spot an elderly lady at the Airport check-in counter in Cayman, with&lt;br /&gt;a suitcase the size of a fridge, which she has just "discovered" is 40&lt;br /&gt;pounds overweight, then it's possible that this lady is Jamaican. If she&lt;br /&gt;opens the suitcase to reveal large quantities of cornflakes, cooking oil and&lt;br /&gt;flour then she is most likely a Jamaican.  If she tries to persuade you to&lt;br /&gt;carry her excess baggage to Jamaica in your luggage then she is definitely&lt;br /&gt;Jamaican.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you're sitting in a pub in London a few weeks before Christmas and you&lt;br /&gt;spot a middle-aged gentleman standing in front of a television camera&lt;br /&gt;sending "greetings" to Aunt Maude and Uncle Ferdie in Chalky Hill, then the&lt;br /&gt;good gentleman is doubtlessly a Jamaican.  Please buy him a white rum when&lt;br /&gt;he's through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another easy way to identify a Jamaican is to observe persons when they are&lt;br /&gt;angry. (Now, let's be clear here. We suggest you watch them when they are&lt;br /&gt;angry.  We don't suggest that you make them angry.) A Jamaican, when&lt;br /&gt;angered, will invariably launch into an extended verbal tirade. Such tirades&lt;br /&gt;have been known to last for as long as 45 minutes, during which time the&lt;br /&gt;Jamaican will not pause to take a breath, will not let you respond and every&lt;br /&gt;other word will end with "claat". (There are approximately 317 versions of&lt;br /&gt;"claat" so don't be surprised if he never repeats himself even once). This&lt;br /&gt;outburst may also be accompanied by frequent beating of the chest, "lapping&lt;br /&gt;of the frocktail" and frequent requests that onlookers "hol' mi back before&lt;br /&gt;mi do 'im supm". (i.e. "Restrain me before I do some serious bodily harm")&lt;br /&gt;Please also note that it is not unknown for Jamaicans, when irate, to resort&lt;br /&gt;to violence. So, as fascinating as it may be to watch, we don't suggest that&lt;br /&gt;you stay to observe the outburst. Having established that your subject is&lt;br /&gt;Jamaican we suggest that you leave the scene with as much haste as you can&lt;br /&gt;possibly manage. Collateral damage is not an uncommon occurrence when a&lt;br /&gt;Jamaican "kick-off" with somebody.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another approach to Jamaican-spotting is to observe the habitat of the&lt;br /&gt;individual you suspect to be Jamaican.  If you are lucky enough to gain&lt;br /&gt;access to the home of a Jamaican (known as his "ends" or "yaad") you may&lt;br /&gt;find that the furniture (five years after it was purchased) is still covered&lt;br /&gt;in plastic. Similarly, the carpet on the floor may be covered by plastic&lt;br /&gt;walkways and there may well be a cabinet or "break-front" filled with enough&lt;br /&gt;cheap crystal, bric-a-brac and china to completely outfit a duty-free store&lt;br /&gt;in Montego Bay . If this is the case, you could very well be standing in the&lt;br /&gt;dwelling of a bona fide Jamaican. Congratulations.&lt;br /&gt;But how can we be sure that this is the home of a real Jamaican? If you&lt;br /&gt;notice that the home has a backyard the size of a welcome mat, despite&lt;br /&gt;which, every inch of same has been planted with callaloo, yam, banana and&lt;br /&gt;gungo peas then this could be the home of a Jamaican. It might be noted that&lt;br /&gt;an authentic Jamaican, being of a naturally hospitable and friendly&lt;br /&gt;disposition, will very likely invite any visitor to his home to stay for&lt;br /&gt;dinner so that he can taste the produce of the "farm".  That visitor should&lt;br /&gt;make very sure his stomach is empty. His Jamaican host will ply him with&lt;br /&gt;large quantities of rice and peas, fricasseed chicken, and boiled ground&lt;br /&gt;provisions and will deeply offended if his guest doesn't eat every morsel&lt;br /&gt;thereof. That guest need not be ashamed to ask for seconds. For a Jamaican&lt;br /&gt;this is just proof of the quality of the meal and will certainly bring a&lt;br /&gt;smile to his face. On the departure of the guest, you may notice that his&lt;br /&gt;host will insist that he take a little callaloo, a few pounds of yam and a&lt;br /&gt;hand of bananas with him. If you observe this happening, then you have&lt;br /&gt;definitely found the genuine article - a "real-real" Jamaican.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 18px; color: rgb(68, 68, 68); "&gt;As you continue to observe your Jamaican you will discover other traits.&lt;br /&gt;Jamaicans are the kind of people who, after living in a foreign country for&lt;br /&gt;only three weeks, can tell you exactly where to buy a tin of Milo , a bottle&lt;br /&gt;of Grace Tomato ketchup and a good draw of weed; all within three blocks of&lt;br /&gt;the spot on which you are standing.&lt;br /&gt;That same fellow will live in "farin" for the next 60 years and, having&lt;br /&gt;reached the age of 92 and having raised his children and grandchildren&lt;br /&gt;there, will tell you with absolute sincerity that he is going back home&lt;br /&gt;"next year". And when he gets home he plans to retire to a little cottage in&lt;br /&gt;Clarendon in the backyard of which he plans to grow. You guessed it.&lt;br /&gt;callaloo, yam, banana and gungo peas.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-8104826517678024013?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/8104826517678024013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/05/how-to-spot-jamaican.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/8104826517678024013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/8104826517678024013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/05/how-to-spot-jamaican.html' title='How to &apos;spot&apos; a Jamaican'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-7410592181821990769</id><published>2010-04-27T15:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-27T16:09:05.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The REAL Martyrs!!!</title><content type='html'>So, you think you all have it rough?  You think you have heard it all, seen it all, processed it all??! Well think again!  In all my years of blogging, I have constantly forgotten time and time again, who the real heroes are; who the real MARTYRS are!  For all the time I spend dying, sighing, having slight excesses of emotion (as you all know by now how sane and well-adjusted a person I am!) and rare cases of flinging myself hither and thither about the place, I cannot compare to the sacrifices that these devices we take so much for granted have had to put up with... our computer devices!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sheba, my lappy-top has been my faithful companion over the past 3 years!  She never yells, or screams, or talks back to me.  She quietly sits there, processing desperately away all the things I feed into her.  No smoke, no grinding noise...just quietly churning away.  Nothing I tell her ever throws her!  She totally agrees with me that I am soooo NOT edible and has promised to defend me to her last kilobyte!!!  She has been sniffed at, thrown about, trampled upon, fondled (not my MOI!), turned on, turned off, tickle-tortured, feather-dusted, and the ultimate of blasphemy, PLUGGED OUT!!!!  But she is still chugging along.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just think about it for a second.  If our machines had minds of their own, what do you think they would do if given the chance?  I think they would either run screaming into therapy for the rest of their hard drives, or tie us all up with their charging chords, put us into their storage bags, zip them shut tightly, and put us away for a very, very long time!!!  They have to deal with things like, "OMG!  Keep this on the DL!  Maddison's gone AWOL with MJ, and I am so totally NDWT(not down with that)!!!" and "Dear Online Diary,  &lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;MY LIFE SUUUUUUUCKS!!!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  Why can't I get a ticket to the sold-out Justin Beesley concert!!?  He's so dreamy!  I am SOO gonna stalk him!!  I am going to MAKE him love me!!! He's SOOOO gonna have my children!!  This is SOOOO NC (not cool)!!!" and of course, chatrooms where you read, "G2G now!  You log off first.  &lt;i&gt;No you first!&lt;/i&gt;  No YOU first!!  &lt;i&gt;NOOOO!  YoU 1st!&lt;/i&gt;  No, u ferst!!!  &lt;i&gt;No you!&lt;/i&gt;  No U!  &lt;i&gt;No you!&lt;/i&gt; No U....!!!!"  And then that goes on for the next hour!  See what I mean??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not to mention, the amount of abuse!  Whenever a significant other breaks up via e-mail, who do you think gets the first fall-out?  When the stock market is not doing well when we get alerts on our i-phones and i-pads, who do you think gets flung on the ground and jumped on??  When a person is waiting for a life-changing phone call, who do you think gets to be stared at for hours on end, being yelled at and told to "RING, OR DIE!!!"???  And, where I come from, who do you think gets forgotten in the cleavage of someone's never-ending bosoms????  Hey!  It has been known to happen!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So take some time today to caress with fondness your PC or mobile device today.   Speak gently to them and give them a nice hug. They put up with a lot more than we ever give them credit for and are worth more than their weight in gold!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MOI&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-7410592181821990769?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/7410592181821990769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/04/real-martyrs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/7410592181821990769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/7410592181821990769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/04/real-martyrs.html' title='The REAL Martyrs!!!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-6770737210749582738</id><published>2010-03-25T08:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-25T09:10:57.718-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am concerned!</title><content type='html'>Over the last few years I have had to, on myriad occasions, stave off attacks upon my corpus, by those of you out there who insist on thinking that I am a gourmet menu item.  All my efforts to dissuade you seem to be futile! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have learned recently that some of you have sunk to a whole new low level of depravity!  As I was giddily minding my own business, I was informed by more than one of you that a company has risen up against me, called &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;JABACON and other Williamson Products, Inc.&lt;/span&gt; I am not making this up you know, and to prove it, THEY EVEN HAVE A FACEBOOK PAGE COMMITTED TO IT!!!!  The interesting thing to note about all of this is that I have never once been contacted about this, seeing that all the products are supposedly to come from different parts of my corpus, and therefore seem to be expected to co-operate with such nonsense!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Firstly, I am here to prove that all of this is a FRAUD!!!  If you look at the picture on the front of that facebook page, you will note that there is a slab of red meat on the front, with good old Percy claiming that that cut came from MOI!  That could NOT have come from me, because I have ham-hocks, not beef shanks!  And also, as far as I can tell, I am still very much intact, and in possession of ALL of my pork!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Secondly, one of YOU (you were supposed to be my friends, by the way!) has placed an unscrupulous order for various choice cuts of me!  Cuts like, my ham-hocks, pork butt roast, fat back, baby-back ribs, and my trotters!   Also, a little birdie told me that someone is planning to harvest me for collagen for anti-wrinkle creams!!!  I know that a few of you have been begging for a 'piece of me' but this is utterly ridiculous!!!  I simply refuse to co-operate with this, and you are going to have to catch me, tie me down, gag me, and knock me senseless if you think you are going to have any success at this, and when I do not want to be caught, I will NOT be caught!!! And I DON'T want to be caught, so &lt;b&gt;TOUGH BENUCHEES SISTER!!!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, for your own good, I have placed a CAVEAT in this blog as well, similar to the one I placed of facebook.  And I state:  &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;"I am NOT for consumption!  You are all to refrain from any attempts to culinate me in ANY way, shape or form!  Any violation of this caveat, will result in the following actions in this order.  You will be declawed, bikini-waxed, neutered, pulverized and then dissolved!  ALL companies formed with the intent of cooking, eating or selling ANY part/s of me MUST cease and desist immediately,  or you WILL be reported to your mommies and be given thorough spankings!!!"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So, having stated that, I shall continue to go to the gym, and get my ham-hocks to become so tough and rubbery, even more so than before, and if this continues, I will threaten to do something else horrible!  I will stop moisturizing!!!  So they will be dry and tasteless as well!  So there!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MOI&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-6770737210749582738?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/6770737210749582738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-am-concerned.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/6770737210749582738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/6770737210749582738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/03/i-am-concerned.html' title='I am concerned!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-6143419582250285040</id><published>2010-01-25T16:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T16:05:31.385-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Poem!</title><content type='html'>I AM GOING TO ‘SPANK’ YOU!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OOOOOOOOOO!!!!!  You naughty, naughty, naughty, naughty&lt;br /&gt;NAUGHTY LITTLE MINX YOU!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times!&lt;br /&gt;LEAVE IT ALONE!  But you do not listen.&lt;br /&gt;See what happens when you poke your nose &lt;br /&gt;Where it does not belong?&lt;br /&gt;Now I am going to have to ‘SPANK’ you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all the work we have done together,&lt;br /&gt;You would ruin this marvellous creation,&lt;br /&gt;All because you just could not contain yourself?&lt;br /&gt;Now I am going to have to ‘SPANK’ you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I begged, pleaded, threatened, even BRIBED you!&lt;br /&gt;I even wrote you little sticky-notes &lt;br /&gt;Encouraging you along the way&lt;br /&gt;And now, we are back to square one!&lt;br /&gt;You have given me no choice!&lt;br /&gt;Now I am going to have to ‘SPANK’ you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a waste! &lt;br /&gt;After the countless spools of thread!&lt;br /&gt;The many knots, needles, fish-line,&lt;br /&gt;Velcro fasteners, and even DUCT TAPE!!!&lt;br /&gt;The many times I have had to truss you up&lt;br /&gt;Like Sunday dinner just to get it right!&lt;br /&gt;Well, I have had it!&lt;br /&gt;Now I am going to have to ‘SPANK’ you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All it took was one!&lt;br /&gt;And that one led to two, then three,&lt;br /&gt;Then...I am sure you’ve lost count by now!&lt;br /&gt;The only thing I have left to say is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Honey, you need to find someone else&lt;br /&gt;To alter that dress, cuz I’m out.&lt;br /&gt;You’re out of time and up against a wall!!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank the heavens for a good pair of SPANKS!&lt;br /&gt;So you see, I did have to ‘SPANK’ you after all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Written by Paul Williamson&lt;br /&gt;2010 January 25&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-6143419582250285040?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/6143419582250285040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/01/poem.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/6143419582250285040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/6143419582250285040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2010/01/poem.html' title='A Poem!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-2837511752784811978</id><published>2009-12-23T06:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-23T06:44:16.203-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Malfunctioning UMBRELLA!!!!</title><content type='html'>So yesterday, I donned by flying suit, unfurled my newly starched cape, and opened my umbrella in order to take to the skies and make the journey back to Jamaica to see my family for Christmas.  On the way, I kept thinking of what I was going to cook for Christmas dinner, seeing that I am again declining to offer myself as the main course!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I caught my connecting umbrella to Jamaica around 7:00PM.  I got onboard and settled in for the flight.  We left late due to luggage issues.  While in flight, we had turbulence almost the entire way!  During the flight, I heard God say to me that something going to happen but that I was going to be alright.  So I began to pray.  Not in a panic, just...pray.  As the umbrella began to make its final approach, I noticed that we were still too high in the air for the actually landing.  I expected the pilots to abort and try again.  Oh yes.  And it was raining cat, dogs, and chickens as well!!! As soon as we touched down, I knew that we would have had to overfly and make a second attempt, but the pilots tried instead to slow down, but it was too late.  The umbrella overshot the runway and landed on the rocks by the shore of the Caribbean Sea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The umbrella quickly filled up with gas fumes, but I was able to make a hasty exit, and was able to help others as well.   So other than that quail's egg on my head, I am still alive and kicking, and grateful to God to be alive and kicking!  Actually, I did a mini can-can routine this morning! However in the process, I stained my flying suit, and ripped my cape to shreds!!!  Adn the umbrella!  Well, let's just say we will have to be getting a new one, preferably one that is not nearly as cheeky and does not talk back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will have more to share later, but right now, I need a nap.  So have a Jolly Christmas and a desperately FAB new year, and I look forward to seeing you back in T.O. when I get BACH!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOI&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-2837511752784811978?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/2837511752784811978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/12/malfunctioning-umbrella.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/2837511752784811978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/2837511752784811978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/12/malfunctioning-umbrella.html' title='Malfunctioning UMBRELLA!!!!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-6490527142322791929</id><published>2009-11-02T08:11:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-03T09:07:35.532-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Meet the two new MEMBERS of my Household!</title><content type='html'>Just the other day, I had the painful task of watching my good old faithful Hortence (toaster) die a slow, agonizing death!  With every labour-intensive rasping breath, she sparked and sputtered to produce warm toast, fit for butter and jam.  And finally, the day came when she looked at me, with crumbs in her tray, she reached out her plug to me, and muttered the last words of the ghost of Hamlet Sr. to his son in life, Hamlet, "Remember me!"  And then, she died!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a period or wearing the black dress, heels and veil, and the moments of grieving, I decided that it was time (*gasp*) to move on.  So after doing research online, I zwiddled desperately (hamhocks-a-blur) to Canadian Tyre where I found another who I deemed to be worthy of replacing my former friend.  And while I was at it, I came across another interesting individual which I also needed to get, and fetched him at a good price at the store next door. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, I would like to introduce the two new members of my kitchen family!  Meet GLADYS, the four-slotted stainless steel Brevetti toaster, and MILTON, the Peugeot wooden pepper mill!!!  And now, I know you are all dying to know, so I will tell you about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's start with Gladys!  Now Gladys is a strong-willed, temperamental-type of toaster who, when she thinks I am not watching, tends to have moments of emotional outbursts.  From time to time, she flings herself on the counter with her lever on your forehead (yes, toasters have foreheads!) lamenting about never being able to see her home country of Italy again.  Well actually, she was made in China, but somehow, she did not get that memo.  Since moving in, she has threatened Bunny, the blender, called Beatrice, the dishwasher fat, and put two vendetta hits out on Winston, the stove.  Things have gotten so intense that I have had to take the precaution of plugging her OUT at night, so that she does not try to take over the world while sleeping.  I am just waiting for her to calm down and settle in to being a toaster before I give her any added responsibilities.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Milton, however, is the total antithesis of Gladys.  He is a lover, not a fighter.  As a typical French-mill, he has wasted no time in trying to seduce the bottle of olive oil next to him.  Berta (the bottle of olive oil) has been complaining that he is always trying to get all up in her "bottle" (which I think any way you look at it is just totally KINKY), and she is not impressed.  He somehow managed to sneak his ukulele into the cupboard and plays it all night long while singing to the bottle of red wine in the corner.  Little does he know that her name is Carmen, and she is a gypsy who eat pepper-mills for breakfast!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you have it.  I am sure that with time, these two new upstarts will fit in and become fully assimilated.  Now if you will excuse me, I have to go put out a small argument between Prudence and Gladys.  They do NOT get along!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-6490527142322791929?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/6490527142322791929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/11/meet-two-new-members-of-my-household.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/6490527142322791929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/6490527142322791929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/11/meet-two-new-members-of-my-household.html' title='Meet the two new MEMBERS of my Household!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-5071994876575513214</id><published>2009-10-15T08:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T09:01:35.917-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shakespeare's Hamhock Soliloquy!!!</title><content type='html'>Now I know what you are all thinking!  Shakespeare was the author of the play 'Hamlet'.  He did not in fact write an alternate play called 'Hamhock', but I am not for a moment going to let that stand in my way!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our cast of characters includes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;King Klondike, the despotically desperate!&lt;br /&gt;Queen Girdle, the lush.&lt;br /&gt;Prince Hamhock, the succulent!&lt;br /&gt;Lord Layeggs the confused?&lt;br /&gt;Lord Pollutants, the dirty.&lt;br /&gt;Lord Horrendous, the kinky!&lt;br /&gt;And the good Lady Opheliac the fifty-first!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note:  She is named thusly due tot he fact that she is one card short of a full deck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, in the spirit of things, I decided to do some chiselling in manners undetectible and give you the alternative version called the Hamhock Soliloquy!  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	mso-para-margin-right:0cm; 	mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; 	mso-para-margin-left:0cm; 	mso-pagination:widow-orphan; 	font-size:11.0pt; 	font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; 	mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; 	mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; 	mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; 	mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; 	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-5071994876575513214?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/5071994876575513214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/10/shakespeares-hamhock-soliloquy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/5071994876575513214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/5071994876575513214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/10/shakespeares-hamhock-soliloquy.html' title='Shakespeare&apos;s Hamhock Soliloquy!!!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-8323739994358956030</id><published>2009-10-09T08:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-09T08:23:12.793-07:00</updated><title type='text'>**GOBBLE, GOBBLE!!!**</title><content type='html'>Yep! That time of year is here again! It is that strange, addictive time when Canadians everywhere develop an insatiable tendency to gorge themselves on poultry, pork, or anything that could be percieved as edible!! It is also this same time of year that I don the camoflage and go underground, into hiding!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sprang gleefully out of bed this morning, desperately zwiddling about hither and thither (hamhocks-a-blur!), I stopped in my tracks and realized that that time of the year is almost here, and in my mailbox, I have been receiving all sorts of recipes for PORK!!! EEEEEEEEEK!!!!! I am still convinced that it is a conspiracy; that there are still people out there fantasizing about what I look and smell like in their ovens or rotisserie grills, basting in my own juices! So, to save time, I take every precaution at this time of year to stay AWAY from any heat sources, and constantly look behind me to see if there is anyone trying to season me without my knowledge or permission!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I struttled to the gym, I noticed one of two things. Either I was hallucinating, or there were people actually looking at me rather longingly and licking their chops as my rumproast passed by them. I remember what happened last year, when I attended a dinner, and the person next to me kept testing my tenderness by constantly pinching me! So I know that this is not all in my head, as you might think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, in preparation for this season of bliss and good eats for some, and traumatic events for me and several other high protein sources, I shall take every precaution to make sure that I make it through this unscathed, so that I can continue my blogs to my faithful foodies...er...I mean, readers!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-8323739994358956030?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/8323739994358956030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/10/gobble-gobble.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/8323739994358956030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/8323739994358956030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/10/gobble-gobble.html' title='**GOBBLE, GOBBLE!!!**'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-5208164665734247786</id><published>2009-09-26T18:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T19:33:42.915-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Queen Street West</title><content type='html'>Today, as I was flubbling mercilessly west on Queen Street, and while I was in mid-zwiddle, two things hit me!   The first was how artistic this neck of the woods was, and also, how old I am getting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember that there was a time when the only forms of communication were either by rotary phone (dark ages), talking, and letter writing.  I even remember when I sent my first electronic letter (as it was called back them), and then, my first e-mail.  I was already an adult!!!  But we are not here to discuss my age...I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Queen Street West is filled to bursting with those of the artistic persuasion.  The people here range from wanting to express themselves loudly  for the whole world to see (like skinny jeans and goth make-up and leather-bound drag queens) to those would are very "innig" with their emotions and stir up all their subconsciousnesses with a stick!  I thought I had seen it all, but no fear!  Was I in for a rude awakening today!  As I hurridly blithered hither and thither going west, there were those that were selling their wares, which included things like artwork, themselves, or showing off a particular skill.  I lost count of how many adam's apples I saw, and their bearers had absolutely NO SPLIT ENDS at all in their hair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, I climbed into a street car and had the desperate misfortune of having a man who was drunk out of his mind sit behind me and tell me how much he hates Jamaicans, and anyone who is not white and English-speaking.  Then there was the lady who was so miserable and scared of missing her stop.  Personally, I think she was constipated!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gone are the days when people used to stop to talk on the street corners.  Nowadays, they will knock you out fo the way if you tried that.  One has to practically DIE to get attention!  And that reminds me...EVERYBODY from the cradle to the grave and all and sundry in betwixt has a cellphone as an appendage!!!!  They just cannot function without it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I arrived at my destination, I felt like I was ready to kiss the ground and squeal in glee, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;"LAAAAAAAND!"&lt;/span&gt;.  I was so relieved to be there, and inside, and safe.  I met up with a dear friend for her birthday, along with some mutual friends and collegues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the festivity was over, I skipped daintily unto a streetcar and headed to the subway.  Just as I thought I has seen enough weirdness for one day, another anomaly pops up!  There was a guy on the subway, dressed in a PINK minidress, in pink pepto-bismol piggies, hosery, and a pair of fairywings on it's back!  I saw that and was struck by a sudden case of indigestion!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, I am home and safe.  I just have to check under the bed for boogy monsters before going to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOI&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-5208164665734247786?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/5208164665734247786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/09/queen-street-west.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/5208164665734247786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/5208164665734247786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/09/queen-street-west.html' title='Queen Street West'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-6939401405699561442</id><published>2009-09-04T09:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T09:42:15.395-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What would REALLY happen if...</title><content type='html'>1.  Pigs really could fly?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  I gave up the fight to keep from being eaten?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  The whole world decided to be good for one hour?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  Madonna became a devout nun??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  Tarzan never met Jane?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  There were no tenors?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  Every opera singer were a tenor?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  Men were able to give birth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  Lady bosses wore 'piggies' (a.k.a. pigtails) to work?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. You laughed and danced in a traditional Mennonite church?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Cows, goats, pigs, sheep, etc. gleefully offered up themselves for slaughter?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. The sun went on strike, or decide to be a diva and NOT show up on time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. I was made entirely out of Swiss chocolate???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. I inhaled a whole plate of brownies and my personal trainer caught me in the act??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Usain Bolt had started his victory dance AFTER he crossed the finish line?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. We all could fly?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. All the women in the world went on strike?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Money grew on trees?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And finally...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. You took time out of your day to stop and smell at least one flower?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-6939401405699561442?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/6939401405699561442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/09/what-would-really-happen-if.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/6939401405699561442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/6939401405699561442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/09/what-would-really-happen-if.html' title='What would REALLY happen if...'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-7975013459828312711</id><published>2009-08-28T20:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T09:09:35.881-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My recollection of all the teachers I can remember!</title><content type='html'>Teachers! They serve a great purpose of molding our young minds, stretching our imaginations and guiding us on our road to knowledge...and in my case, I will go one step further...to scare the living CRAP out of me! Most normal people remember their teachers from high school, and maybe they might remember those from elementary school. You all know that MOI am not normal; I remember EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kindergarten. Mrs. Gayle. Sweet lady I am sure, when she was sleeping! I remember the first day of school not going over so well with me. There I was, in my school uniform, trottling off to school with my mother, and then, to be handed off to a lady whose face I will never forget. She reminded me of a Mennonite oma, but bronzed. She had the joy of the Lord in her. This means for those of you non-church folk that she had the look of constipation on her face ALL the time! NOTHING I ever did was good enough for this lady. If I coloured anywhere outside the lines, which I tended to do, I would be slapped, or somehow my work would not make it on the board. I endured her, and this was going to be the pattern of my existence in preparatory school!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intermediate. Mrs. Daley. Now she was the NICEST teacher I ever had! She sort of reminded me of Mary Poppins but without the talking umbrella! She was always well dressed and well spoken. She was a proper Bermudan-British lady to whom I attribute my ability to speak the Queen's English (outside of my parents' teaching as well). We had a piano in our class room and on Fridays, she would go to the piano and teach us songs. She made learning fun! Then (*insert loud minor key music here*), she went on leave, and was replaced by her total antithesis! Mrs. McGunn! She did NOT play the piano and her way of controlling us and getting our attention was by intimidation and threatening...and it worked! She had us all cowering in fear and squealing for our mommies after the first day! I was convinced that she had it in for me and for a few others in the class. She always picked on me and accused me of being lazy. One day, I was just not understanding what she wanted me to do, and because I was not doing it, she would hit me with a ruler she was armed with. To make the time pass, I would ask to go to the bathroom or for a drink of water by the cooler and take my time to make the time pass by quicker. I thought my troubles were done after that class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade One. No such luck! Mrs. Thames (as in the River Thames). She seemed nice enough at first, but then it became apparent that all the teachers in the school seemed to be conspiring against me and were all out to get me! NOTHING I did was good enough for this lady. I remember once getting my homework all correct, but because it was untidy, she said it was too messy to give a star for the full marks I had gotten. I was too slow in class, never finished my work on time, always forced to miss recess because work was not done in time, my hand writing was always too messy and too big, and she even threatened to send me off to the special class. In short, I was stupid. I even remember one day, she scared me so badly that I wet myself in my seat. I could have sworn I saw fangs in her mouth! I don't know how, but I made it to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade Two! Miss Little. On the first day, I caught my former grade one teacher whispering to her that I was a lazy student. I was just glad I was done with her! I gave her the evil look as she turned on her heels and left. Miss Little was a nice teacher, even though she had a bit of a temper. She was the most creative teacher I ever had. I remember when we would work on our projects for Open Day (which was a day in schools across Jamaica where each class picked a theme and did a project and the school would be open all day to parents to come in and view the projects and a winner would be picked from all the works presented). Usually, she would let us go home without homework on Fridays, but not always. Anyway, our project was based on people in our community and we made people like firemen and women, nurses, teachers, etc, out of papier machee. Needless to say, we won!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade Three. Mrs. Blacktree. I found that I was able to read this lady's facial expressions and know what kind of a day she was having. Whenever she had pursed lips, she was having a bad day and you were to be on your P's and Q's. Whenever she smiled, you were really in trouble!!! She introduced us to some new concepts. Pop quizzes, public readings and my least favourite, spankings for failing tests! Anytime there was a math test, I made up my mind to submit to being spanked. I would even line myself up for it just to save time. Her weapon of choice? A white PLASTIC ruler. Now as far as rulers go, you want to be spanked by something hard, like a wooden ruler. When it bends like a plastic ruler, it stings. None of my teachers ever picked up that I was not lazy, or dull. I was just not good at math and no one ever took the time to get through to me, or help me find a way to understand it all. I would score very well in all my other subjects, but not math. Grade Three was also the first time I fell in love. Ahhhh! Tracy! She was a girl from British descent with long blond hair always neatly plaited into pigtails. I adored her, but she despised me. I thought that that was just the way of the world I guess. She was the beauty and I was the beast, and she was NOT having it! The more she hated me, the more I crushed over her. And she would continue to be in my class until Grade Six. *sigh* I even had visions of us married at one point, but that was not to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade Four. Mrs. Bickford. Not only did she take over from the grade three teacher, but went to great lengths to make sure that the whole class saw how badly I was doing in math. So much so that she even brought the head mistress into the class who was having a bad day and she, yelling, made a public example of me by comparing my fourth grade math homework to that of a third grader's. I had grown to hate school so much that I looked forward to days when I would be sick with the flu. I could stay home and not have to deal with these viking, fang-filled teachers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade Five. Mrs. Mills. The grandmother of teachers. She was the oldest and longest teaching teacher in the school. A fantastic oratrix, and very much involved in the scouts (she was our den mother and yes I was a cub scout in school for a short time), she seemed to be the type of teacher that I would enjoy and would be patient with me. NO DICE! She never beat us for failing tests, but boy she knew how to make you feel bad. One morning, as a gesture to butter her up, I brought her flowers from my mother's garden. She and my mother were BOTH not impressed! She threw them in the garbage. And as with all the teachers I've known up to this point, they all had an addiction to red ink pens!!!! This grade was however the first time we were introduced to writing with pens. We had up to that point been writing with pencils only.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grade Six! Ms. Pancham! I had always been afraid of teachers who have any South Asian in them (i.e. from India). We always thought them to be impervious to the hottest peppers and could eat them straight without flinching (which she could) and that the more peppers she ate, the hotter her spankings became. And they did! She was the ONLY teacher in the school who had a bamboo cane as a spanking weapon. Something I have felt, but at this point, not that often. I had finally for the first time in my life started catching on to math!!!! I had found a way to figure it out for myself. By this point, my homework was always neatly done and I was always ready for anything. It was there that I passed my Common Entrance exams to get into high school, and also was selected to be deputy head boy of the student body. And even then, I was still scared of Mrs. McGunn!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HIGH SCHOOL!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Form (Grade Seven). As a new high schooler, I took all the advice given to me and made sure that I was rarely seen being dropped to school by my mother. I went to an all boys' high school. Right beside us was the all girls' high school. You can just imagine how this turned out. There was (and still is) a 30 foot barbed wire fence that seperates the two schools. My first form teacher's name was Mr. Richards. He was an actor. I had seen him in a play with the same theatre trouppe that I have also acted with in Jamaica. He always seemed to have his head in the clouds because he never really cared anything about any of us. We saw him from time to time, and he loved to wear white jeans. So he quit, and the new teacher was a lady I will never forget. She was also an actress and a dub poetess named Claudette Richardson-Pious. She was a stout lady with a booming voice so loud that it could kill a bowl of goldfish. When she yelled, we sat and sprouted halos...well, I did! I was always afraid that she would sit on top of us and crush us all to death if we rubbed her the wrong way. And she looked like she was capable of it too! She accused us of sending up her blood pressure and driving her screaming to insanity!! One day, she had had it with us and looked like she was going to pull her hair out any minute. There were other teachers like Mrs. Kumar our math teacher, who always wore a sari, Mrs. Davidson, who was addicted to giving us book reports to write on any and everything she could think of, and Mrs. Chevannes. our guidance councellor who finally explained to us why it is that when we wake up in the mornings, our 'soldiers' are saluting at full attention. That is EXACTLY how she said it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second Form (Grade Eight). Ms. Gabbidon. She ruled by instilling in us the word of God! She made us all learn all of 1 Corinthians 13 which we had to recite everyday at form time, by heart! She was someone else who had the joy of the Lord in her. One day we were all given a class detention by another teacher to write the 23rd Psalm 10 times after school and she heard about it and increased it to 25 times! Yep! She was the quintessential Pentecostal woman, with no jewellery and a stern look. &lt;strong&gt;Halellu-&lt;em&gt;YER&lt;/em&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third Form (Grade Nine). Mr. Kerr. He was our Chemistry teacher and the best chem teacher I ever had. It was because of him why I would later be able to pass CXC chemistry. He was a rasta man who commanded attention, and always smelled of burned tobacco and at times, something else (illegal).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forth Form (Grade Ten). Mr. Blue! He was also our Geography teacher. The only thing I remember about him was that he always smelled of old sweat, and it was always so pungent! He told us when asked point blank that he did not believe in wearing deodorant. And since I sat in the front of the class, I was always downwind of him. It was a miserable existence! It was here that we began our study and training for the CXC and GCE examinations, which all the schools in the entire caribbean would take at the same time. It is akin to exams one takes for graduating from high school with your diploma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fifth Form (Grade Eleven). We never saw our form teacher. We knew he existed but he never showed up for anything. The one teacher I do remember was our Spanish teacher, Mrs. Willan. She had a habbit of wearing clothes that were way too tight and heels that were way too high. She always talked to us about her Cosby Show-like family and home and how they are all perfect in every way. We really could not have cared less. What we thought we were getting in a Spanish class always turned into a discussion on how well her sons do at cricket. But we endured. There were also teachers like Mrs. Tamms, our math teacher who always came to class looking half drunk and out of it (after classes with her, we would all congregate and worry collectively about our futures!), and with cracked heels, Ms. McLeod who everyday looked like she was just off a catwalk (*snap* VOGUE!), and Mr. Ballentyne who was just...always on a permanent personal vendetta against us.  I think it had something to do with a certain lady teacher he had a crush on who quit because the students made her life a living nightmare and she could not take it anymore.  So he was out to kill us, slowly!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to Lower and Upper Sixth Forms (Grades Twelve and Thirteen) but those years are such a blur to me because I did most of my course work over at the girls' school because the course work at that point was shared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you have it. It is amazing to me that after all of this, I am still sane. But NOW you see why I am so afraid to be eaten, and always wondering why you are all out to get MOI!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-7975013459828312711?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/7975013459828312711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-recollection-of-all-teachers-i-can.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/7975013459828312711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/7975013459828312711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-recollection-of-all-teachers-i-can.html' title='My recollection of all the teachers I can remember!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-8935089263979897637</id><published>2009-08-24T13:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T13:58:14.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shuffling off to Buffalo *shuffle, shuffle, shuffle*</title><content type='html'>Last week, I shuffled desperately off to Buffalo! As I have had to do in previous years, I went to renew some papers I need for my status in Canada. So this is how it went:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sprung out of bed at 2:00AM Tuesday morning!!! I did a quick shimmy in the glee of knowing that I was about to get on a plane going somewhere, and then, a jump-split to express same said glee! Now let me pause here in mid-split for a second and explain to clear up your confusion. I am in Toronto. I am going to Buffalo...YES, BY PLANE!!! Buffalo is only about two hours drive from where I live. I am sure this is not making any sense to you who are reading this. But I will continue with the story...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After landing from my aerial split, I ran to the bathroom to moisturize and to brush my teeth. In no time flat I was ready and raring to go...and I am smelling a pineapple upside down cake right now as I sit here and type this *drool* Mmmmmm....CAAAAAKE! But I digress. The phone rang. It was my ride to the airport. I lept from my milk and dashed like a pig to a truffle to the door and in to the vehicle, scaring the driver half to death. Poor guy. I gave him a good tip though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After checking in, I went through US immigration. The officer asked me where I was flying to and I told him Buffalo. He gave me the same look of constipation that you are giving as you are reading this. He then asked me why would I not just drive or take the bus. I told him that the last time I took the bus there, I determined that I would never do that again! The last time I did that, it took me over four hours to get to my destination, and I felt like I was a sardine desperately packed, in water, in a can! Needless to say I was one hot mess when I got to Buffalo and was determined never to go through that again! Hence, I flew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After clearing costumes and passing through security, I decided to eat something. Then the next thing was that I was on the plane flying to Chicago, where I connected to another flight to Buffalo. Now here is where the weird things started happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to check in to my hotel. They could not find my reservation. After about five minutes of finger clicking on their computer terminal, they found it. Apparently, I had put my name in backwards! Silly moi! I got my key and zwiddled desperately (hamhocks-a-blur) to my room. I walked in to the door wide open and a big box on the floor. They had just finished putting in new furniture and were changing the TVs. Then, the air conditioning went kablewey! So I sauntered BACH downstairs and asked to be put into another room. The new room was perfect for me. The air conditioning was working overtime making it cooler than the other rooms, which was just right for me. And then, I found ANOTHER box on that floor. The service people asked if I would permit them to just install the TV and I said yes. Then I called downstairs and asked for NO MAID SERVICE until I check out. I spent the rest of that evening checking over my papers to present to the Consulate, and eating very bad pizza. I do not know what I was thinking!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4:45AM! I am awake! I got dressed and darted out of the hotel so that I could be first in line! And I was! I stood at the Consulate line for almost 3 hours waiting for them to open. I got in first, and was out first! YEAY!!!! That part was over! I went to brunch and then zwiddled desperately about the city until I ran into the side door of my hotel. I got a little carried away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The highlight of my time there was that I got to see a very dear friend that I went to Houghton with many years ago, who just happened to be IN that part of NY! My good, and fuzzy, and closetted soprano friend Ribena Eggsalad and her best friend (and cohort in crime) Margarita! I Ribena also brought her mom along as well, and it was so good to see them both again after 14 years! We went to dinner and chatted the night away, remembering our lives at Houghton and all the people that have had to go into therapy just for knowing us. Ribena had not changed much. She still refuses to sing soprano (even though I think a good cattle prod will take care of that) and still fighting against wearing high heels. I did manage to get her in piggies for about four seconds though, and she just sat there. Yep! That's Ribena alright. She is one woman that I know would 'clean my clock' really good, even though I do not have any clocks, or watches for that matter that need cleaning. I still don't get that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all laughed the night away. Margarita taught me a song about a sadist, which was fun, and Ribena told me a story about how some of her grown-up students (guys) tried to take her down at the end of the term, and failed! Ribena pretty much tossed them around like they were tonka trucks.  The end of the evening was sad for me because I do not know when I will see her again. But she made me sing for them in the parking lot, and I seemed to attract the attention of some passersby, and some bees, who thought I looked like a wad of cotton candy! Aftrer saying my goodbyes, they left, and I went to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lowlight of my stay was just before my friends arrived.  I was in my room, typing away at Sheba when I heard my door beep.  A maid came pirouetting into my room with her vacuum cleaner!!  I had asked for no maid service, but boy did I get it!!!  Just a minute before, and she would have caught me in various stages of UNDRESS!!!  And then, I would have been responsible for inducing cardiac arrest from indecent pork exposure!!!  I made sure the front desk heard about this and that&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;I was not impressed! (*not impressed look*)  I am sure she is in a psych ward about now suffering from PTSD (Pork Traumatic Stress Disorder).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday morning and I was again wide awake! I went to the airport, and caught my flight. Everything was on time. My flights all were on time. I even landed in Toronto right on the dot of 6:29PM which was what was printed on my ticket. Just as I thought I was getting off scot free, a thunderstorm came rumbling in just as we landed, and thus, we had to wait inside the plane for 90 minutes before we could disembark! Fortunately I did not check any luggage, so I could proceed to GO without any stops. I got home and felt like I had been run over by a herd of turtles! I am only just now getting their hoof prints out of my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you have it. My life in three days!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOI&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-8935089263979897637?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/8935089263979897637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/08/shuffling-off-to-buffalo-shuffle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/8935089263979897637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/8935089263979897637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/08/shuffling-off-to-buffalo-shuffle.html' title='Shuffling off to Buffalo *shuffle, shuffle, shuffle*'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-1079522795756223203</id><published>2009-08-16T22:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T22:37:18.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confessions of an Entree!</title><content type='html'>Do not be fooled by the title of this entry! I am NOT giving in to being cooked, or eaten, or in any way prepared for consumption! This entry is entirely devoted to my thoughts about my recent trip to Winnipeg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been a week since I scared the caffeine out of Lulu, who was quite sane and calm before I came shimmying in through the doors of the library. With IV stand in toe, Lulu was getting her daily fix (and to remind you all, these fixes are important to keep her from morphing into the Were-Lulu who eats nymphs and shepherds for brunch!) of hemlock, when, upon the sight of me, proceded to redecorate the walls with a spakling of coffee colour all over the wall. Now one thing I have always loved about my returns to Winnipeg is the wonderful...reception I seem to get from people. Lulu saw me, and her blue peepers bugged wide open! She shrieked out loud, cackled with laughter, ran smack into me, gave me a great big bear hug and then slapped me with a cold trout, deliriously screaming, "HOW THE HECK ARE YA???" (*smack*!) I do not know where the fish came from, but I still have the imprint on my left facial cheek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next is when I saw Alvin! I had not seen him in a long time. I had never met his wife before and I was about to get that opportunity. Her name (for this blog) is Coral! And she was at this point, DESPERATELY PREGNANT!!! Now as far as pregnancy goes, there are various stages. There is the stage of not being pregnant, of being slightly pregnant, obviously pregnant, very pregnant, extremely pregnant, and finally, desperately pregnant! She was the very latter of these!!! And my hat is off to her! She was able to be desperately pregnant, and manage two boys, cook dinner, do the laundry with one foot, and answer the mail AND the phone with the other! ALL at the same time!!! Now THAT takes talent! Anywho, I was greeted by Alvin and his two chipmunks rather gleefully the other day, when the two boys saw me, chased after me, and grabbed on to both of my hamhocks and sunk their teeth in! I for a brief moment thought this was a French Canadian greeting I did not know about. Seeing that Frumpyfinns and his brothers are always out to eat me and they are half French Canadian as well, I did not surprise me that much. So I took this as a sign of affection...was I right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The retreat was interesting to say the least, but it was what happened AFTER the retreat that really took it to that next level! All week long, the house kept hinting at the fact that they had not tasted my skills on the grill. One of them slipped up and said they had not tasted ME on the grill, but I took the time to point out that his Freudian SLIP was showing. Up to this point, the greetings and the requests for attention were at an all time high, much to my glee! But NOTHING prepared me for the thing that Cleopas did that jsut took that over the top! Dressed in tights and his traditional feathered hat, Cleopas, upon seeing me, broke into a little jig, followed by his interpretation of Swan Lake at top speed in a freezer! He climbed into his mother's freezer with his little eukalale and proceeded to soft shoe tap all over the farmer sausage and the frozen peas!! By the time he was done, bless his pointy little head, he had caught a cold and had to get Jeanette to pick him up, sling him over her shoulders and cart him off for hot soup and to bed. Loved the dance routine though!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you see, Winnipeg is such a wonferful city! There is so much love there! I always look forward to seeing what sorts of greetings await me, like when Rita set herself in a large bowl of lime jello in the fridge for five hours! And then there was the picnic on the hill in Steinbach with Siegfried in lederhosen and the gaggle of wombats running around loose! But that is for another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOI&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-1079522795756223203?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/1079522795756223203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/08/confessions-of-entree.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/1079522795756223203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/1079522795756223203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/08/confessions-of-entree.html' title='Confessions of an Entree!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-1629942106459344088</id><published>2009-08-11T09:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T09:46:46.604-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How to tell if somene wants to eat you:</title><content type='html'>I know that there are those who would rather see me steaming on a plate, and here are some reasons I think so.  I know that there are those who are trying to eat me when:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  They are constantly inviting me to dinner and are always trying to overfeed me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  People keep baking cookies and cakes at me!  And this includes bakeries&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  I try to take a bath and find veggies and potatoes in the bathtub&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  I go to Canadian Tire and there are signs leading me to the outdoor barbeque grill section&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  Butchers get ridiculously excited whenever I walk into the grocery store&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  Someone (who will remain NAMELESS!) keeps sending me pictures of hamhocks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  People spontaneously drool when they are around me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  Pigs do jigs and hop around happily whenever I show up on a farm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  Children, who do not know any better, attach themselves to my hamhock-like thighs and sink their teeth in for no apparent reason&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Someone switches my peppermint shower gel for A1 Steak Sauce&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. Someone I know recently told me they saw a whale-sized cauldron and thought of me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. I am being compared to cinnamon and baked goods&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. People keep giving me triple chocolate chunk brownies, chocolate truffles, and Tim Horton's gift cards as gifts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Certain people cannot resist the urge to test my tenderness by pinching me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. I am at a pot luck, there is no food, the pots are empty, and everyone is looking at me longingly and licking their chops&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. Someone's teeth were placed under arrest (YVAAAT!) for trying to take a nibble out of me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27. I attend a Mennonite church and recipes for farmer sausage get passed around in the offering plates instead of money, and when the minister preaches about self sacrifice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. I wake up to find some foul fiend sharpening knives right by my bed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. My friends show up with precarious amounts of trussing cord, and shrinkwrap&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND FINALLY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30.  When someone tells me directly that there want to pop me in their oven, cook, and EAT me!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See?  I told you I was not paranoid.  You would be worried too if you saw these trend of events happen to you too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOI&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-1629942106459344088?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/1629942106459344088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/08/how-to-tell-if-somene-wants-to-eat-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/1629942106459344088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/1629942106459344088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/08/how-to-tell-if-somene-wants-to-eat-you.html' title='How to tell if somene wants to eat you:'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-3419955571554643628</id><published>2009-08-07T13:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T13:53:35.893-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just in case you didn't know it...</title><content type='html'>Here are ten new factoids that will help you to cope when you are experiencing winter in summer, and how to compensate:&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1.  Take time to get it out of your system. Kick, scream, pluck a chicken, even rip all of your hair out, and then, count to 10&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2.  Be a maverick!  Rock the chartreuse tights!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3.  If you are insistent on swimming outdoors, wear a thermal suit&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4.  Set your oven at 50 degrees Centigrade and climb in.  Make sure to turn yourself occasionally&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5.  Wear pigtails!  Doing so will attract warm weather... and pigtail fetishists!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6.  If you are going to wear shorts when it is blowing cold outside, don't just complain about it. Whine loudly too!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7.  Do Salome's Dance of the Seven Veils outside&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8.  Eat lots of spicy foods until your eyes run squealing from their sockets&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9.  Slather yourself with honey.  This will attract bees, which will then cause you to run screaming to your mommy.  That will indeed get you all hot and sweaty in no time flat!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And, if none of this works:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Buy a one-way ticket to the Caribbean!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-3419955571554643628?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/3419955571554643628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/08/just-in-case-you-didnt-know-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/3419955571554643628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/3419955571554643628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/08/just-in-case-you-didnt-know-it.html' title='Just in case you didn&apos;t know it...'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-8425823413590226325</id><published>2009-08-07T13:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T13:39:43.937-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TA-DAAH!!!!</title><content type='html'>*tap dance, tap dance, tap dance, tap dance, chasse, chasse, chasse, chasse, sparkle fingers, jump, zwiddle, tap dance, tap dance, tap dance, tap dance, shimmy, shimmy, shimmy, shimmy, jump, kick, parry, thrust, stepball change, kick-split, kick-split, kick-split, chicken dance, chicken dance, pause (*breath!* and then double time to the end!), shimmy, zwiddle, kick-split, chicken dance, stop!!!! run like a mad person into brick wall, make impression and slowly slide to the ground, and then, tip hat*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-8425823413590226325?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/8425823413590226325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/08/ta-daah.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/8425823413590226325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/8425823413590226325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/08/ta-daah.html' title='TA-DAAH!!!!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-3752140254480819014</id><published>2009-08-04T22:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T22:50:13.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TRUSSED!!!</title><content type='html'>This past weekend, I again had the desperately FAB privilege of witnessing yet another wedding, or as I like to call it, watching two adorable and God fearing people get permanently trussed together in Holy wedlock!  I watched as Paulie-Frumpyfinns and his Lickity-Doodlebops, Kee-Kee-Kicklesqueals tied the noose on Saturday, as I was one of the groomsmen.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The event really began the day before when all of Frumpy's male friends met at his parents' house for what was thought to be a night of hanging out and playing video games.  Well, Albert (the best man) thought differently!  He secretly rallied the troups and had Frumpy ambushed, hogtied and dragged kicking and screaming from his mommy!  Just so that you know, Mrs. L. was a very good sport about the whole thing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The first thing we did to this poor slob was to tie him to a tree.  He did not know this but I secretly placed some logs behind him and was tempted to light them in revenge for all the times he has attempted to use MOI as the main ingredient in one of his recipes!  But alas, common sense prevailed, and we strung him up in a tu-tu, tights, pointe shoes, a tiara, and pigtails and placed a sign around his neck that read, &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;"HELP!  My groomsmen are trying to sabbotage my wedding!"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;  Just then, a gaggle of cross-dressing ballerinas (Am Punkte) appeared out of nowhere and flitted desperately about the tree waving wands in the air.  They untied Frumpy-finns and carried him off, still trussed up as tight as a FedEx package, to the other end of the park, with us in tow.  There, they untied him and with the aid of a cattleprod, forced him to dance on one leg, with the other one in a full split, and spinning round and round!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Albert decided that that was enough, so he rescued him and placed a metal slug on his ankle to keep him from running away.  Then, we took him to a fast go-kart track and proceeded to race thrice, until appetites won over and we needed food.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The day of the wedding!  I was up with a start!  Lots to do!!!  And less time to do it all in!!!!  My first task was to wake up old Frumpy-finns.  He had turned into &lt;i&gt;G&lt;/i&gt;rumpy-pants at this point! Once breakfasted, I dragged him off to get groomed.  Once there, I told them to give him the works!!!  This of course meant bringing out the restraints, a gag, hot wax, a spiked ball, cement, hot asphalt, a sander, a buffer and drain-o!  I left him in the capable hands of Gerhilde, the viking cosmetologist/hairdo lady.  Armed with an ample bosom and a spear and a brass bra, she managed to get him to sit still for the grooming while I ran out to wash the car and do some other errands.  When I returned, he was almost unrecognizable!  I actually saw two eyebrows instead of one, and his hair was actually co-operating (probably from the shock of Gerhilde threatening to show him her talking mole on her back!).  We scurried home to get dressed!  I have never seen Frumpy-finns (now GROOM) so flustered!  We got home and he immediately started moulting!  He would head into three different directions at once before declaring that he wanted to be left alone.  He would gasp, sigh, whimper, and wilt all in the space of thirty seconds!  Once I made sure he was dressed and I was able to gather up all his shedded feathers and put them back in, he was ready to go, so I folded him into the car and took him for pictures before the ceremony.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Taking the pictures was uneventful, except for when the groom kept referring to us as his penguins, to which, when beckoned, we would respond by walking like penguins to get the point across that we were not impressed.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once at the church, everything went WITH the great big hitch!  The hitch of seeing two desperately adora-bubble people get trussed up together like a big Sunday dinner and placed into a large roasting pan filled with veggies and dip!  And speaking of trussing, the reception went very well!  MOI was the MC and did my very best to keep people laughing and begged for the food to keep coming so that people would not be tempted to look at me too hard and longingly as the main course.  Once it was all over, I felt as if I had given birth to a hippo, butt first, and upside-down!  I needed a rest!  So now, I will take one!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Congrats to my two friends for this wonderful milestone!  May God continue to feed you, bless you, fluff you up, and may you have the wisdom of Solomon, the patience of Job and the children of Israel! And have fun trying!!!!!!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;MOI&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-3752140254480819014?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/3752140254480819014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/08/trussed.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/3752140254480819014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/3752140254480819014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/08/trussed.html' title='TRUSSED!!!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-7410808775492634569</id><published>2009-08-01T20:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-02T13:10:12.031-07:00</updated><title type='text'>VaVaVoom!  The DESPERATE Love Story!</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time, in a far away land, where the sun shines desperately, there lived a little lady named Vava-Voom! She was a science teacher. And she was exceptional in her job! She had developed quickly the characteristic smile that rendered us (her students) clueless as to what she was thinking at any given time, and at the same time, she was able to tune us ALL out at once!!! Nothing at all phased her! She had this fierce calm about her that somtimes caused us all to worry about our futures if we continued to be naughty. I, however was the angel of the class. I would sit quietly and listen. Really! (*insert halo, harp music, and big grins here*).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the years, I wondered where she dissappeared to. And alas, I happened to run smack into her (with a minor thud) on facebook and discovered that she set sail for the same land I did: CANADA!!! I also noticed that her maiden name was gone in lieu of another, and she sounded so desperately happy whenever we would chat online. I saw her recently at an event, and she looks exactly the way I remember her, except for one small thing. She is regressing in age physically! I am now looking older than she does! She told me the story of how she met this man, and how they got married. I guess love does keep one young and supple! So, that story checked into a room through my ear into my brain, where it took residence, flung itself into a cauldron and stewed itself for a while, and I am now ready to tell you the version of this true story in the way it has...*cough-cough* developed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once upon a time, in the land of the desperate sun, there lived a lovely little lady named vAVa-VooM!!! In this part of the story, she is asleep in bed, lightly snoring away, in her night cap and flannel sheets, emitting "Z's" with each expired breath. The sun rises, and one would think she would rise to the music of the little birdies on her windowsills, with the little woodland creatures, and the nymphs and shepherds, who would have hovered over her, watching her sleep (Hmmmmm! Creepy!) and would play their harps wafting her to the land of wakefulness, where she would, with a very light and crystal-clear soprano voice, sing with them, while dining on berries that they gathered for her all night long. Well, not quite! She did indeed have the nymphs, shepherds and woodland creatures show up at her windowsills. But as the sun began to sing, she shot up out of bed in full split, arms spread and with a big grin, screaming, "YIPEE!!!" In doing so, she knocked out three shepherds and two nymphs by sending them flying into the wall SPLAT, and after five seconds, they slid down the wall to the floor unconscious and losing their two front teeth!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without wasting a moment, she flung herself into a telephone booth. Now, let me state that anybody with half a brain would know that you can have a telephone booth in your closet. One never knows when one is going to need one. So she flings herself into it, and comes out three seconds later dressed as wonderwoman. "Hmmm!" she thought. "Wrong costume!" And after several attempts, gave up and settled for the little Bo-Peep costume! So she put her hair into pigtails and put on her little bonnet, and had an unexplained urge to go visit some sheep on a nearby hillside. So, she packed her little picnic basket, and went skipping daintily on her way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whilst skipping daintily along, she realized that she did not know where exactly she was going, but kept on skipping daintily along and singing, "LAALALAALALAAH!!". As soon as she turned the corner, she ran smack into a man...LITERALLY! They both collided in mid air, which sent her basket flying, and his little bundle on a stick flying in the opposite direction. They were suspended from terra firma for about five seconds before they both fell to the ground, she with little testubes circling her head, and him, little beating hearts!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When she came to, VAva-VoOm said, "Mommy I do not want to go to school today, and I like mint jelly!!!!" and then giddily passed out again. The young man, Egbert, got up and picked her up and set her down by a tree. When she arose, she saw him, and they both fell desperately in love! To make sure that it was true love though, she took him by surprise and clobbered him senseless with a frozen hamhock and waited. When he came to, he was still desperately in love with her. She was so beside herself with glee that she kept having to pinch herself very hard to snap herself out of the delirious euphoria that surrounded and eventually oozed out of her corpus!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The two got married and now live in Canada, and are still so gleefully in love, and live in a little shoe in the middle of the glens of Mississauga!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THE END!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't that lovely, hmmm? Don't you just love happy endings???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOI&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-7410808775492634569?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/7410808775492634569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/08/vavavoom-desperate-love-story.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/7410808775492634569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/7410808775492634569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/08/vavavoom-desperate-love-story.html' title='VaVaVoom!  The DESPERATE Love Story!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-9144542383948345654</id><published>2009-07-29T22:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T23:20:13.163-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Desperate Couple!</title><content type='html'>Patrick (a.k.a. Paulie-Frumpyfinns) and his lumpty-dumm-dumms Kee-Kee-Kicklesqueals are tying the noose on Saturday. Loverly! FABulou(*whistle!*)! We are all extatic (and relieved!) that this wonderful lady has taken desperate pity on this unkempt and shedding animal, to wed him, truss herself with him (and some parsely!), and put him (and us!) out of his (and our) mysery!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is the wedding rehearsal and dinner! SO much to do! We are getting down to the wire. My role in all of this you ask? As one of the groomsmen, it is my duty to make sure that Mr. Frumpyfinns gets to a pet-grooming establishment so that he can at least be washed, combed and leashed for the occasion! He still has no idea that there will be hot wax involved, as well as a sander, cement, drain-o, and other such delights!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kee-Kee-Kicklesqueals was at death's door earlier on this week. And naturally, Patrick rushed to her side in cape and tights to save the day...and promptly got sick himself. She is on the mend, and I am sure, just giddy with desperate and unbridled glee as the day of her sentencing approaches, when she will be saddled with the beast. When she last called to talk to her poodly-poo-poofs, she emitted random soprano-like squeals of glee that deafened me in my left ear. So we know she may be exhibiting some signs of excitement about all this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frumpyfinns, on the other hand is the one who is a perfect WRECK!!! Up and down the stairs I have seen him zwiddle desperately, flit, float, trudge, and flubble about the house, yelling such incoherent phrases such as, "I need to get my stuff together!", "Moooooom!" , and my least favourite, "So what are you guys planning for my stag?" It has not occured to him that there might not even be a stag at this rate. I catch him trying to snoop around and bribe people for hints, and it is quite amusing to me because he has no clue that his "stag" may be something rather...simple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you have it. My desperate commentary will continue once the event has actually happened. And BOY am I going to have a LOT to say about this!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay tuned!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOI&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-9144542383948345654?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/9144542383948345654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/07/desperate-couple.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/9144542383948345654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/9144542383948345654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/07/desperate-couple.html' title='The Desperate Couple!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-7407729317055915126</id><published>2009-07-28T19:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T20:31:08.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Retreat! RETREEEEEEEEET 2009!!!</title><content type='html'>So, we did it again! We retreat! RETREEEEEEET-ED!!!! for yet another summer! This however was the first year that the retreat was turned outside-IN!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all zwiddled desperately there at around 6:00PM, bringing our assorted accoutrements (tents, food, peanut butter, teddy bears, toothbrushes, rubber duckies, whisks, and a toilet plunger!) and placed them in the centre of the living room, so that we could have dinner. Patrick (a.k.a. Paulie-Frumpyfinns) made enchiladas (with the help of MOI) and they were good! We all ate until we were full! Seeing that it has just rained, we decided to spend the first night indoors. We figured we would set the tents up in the morning, when the sun will be smiling down upon us and the nymphs and shepherds would swoop down from the lofty births to sing and play amongst us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the evening, I kept feeling something like sand falling upon my head. I was soon to find out that Cleopas was trying to season me again! You see, he tried to convince me that he managed to find a whale-sized cauldron. I knew he was lying because I checked and they were fresh out of them!!!! He was just jealous because I managed to find whisks his size (those I brought with me), the ones he said I would never find.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After chatting and catching up, we all settled in up and downstairs (girls up, guys down) for the night. Then I saw a sight that did not really shock me at all. Cleopas, thinking we were all asleep, slipped out the back door and into the garage! I thought to myself, this MUST be interesting! I snuck behind him to find that he was heading into a bag, where he pulled out what looked like a unitard and a pair of wings!!! He squeezed his way into them, after slathering himself generously with lard and literally flitted into the trees where he proceeded to buzz the night away in conducting the nymph and shepherd Mennonite chorale!!! I would not have believed it if I did not see it...wait a minute. Knowing me, I would have!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the sun rose of Saturday morning, I sprung out of my slumber to find that I was not alone! For Siegmund was up and flitting about too!!! I shot out of bed and in a full split, singing "DICH TEURE HALLE!!!!" in the soprano range!!!  I flung myself upstairs to find the girls in various forms of sleep: Yippee was awake and reading while adorably curled into her shrimp cocktail impression. Jeanette was snoozing away, calming sleeping like an infant, and Rita...well, Rita's mouth was wide open, drooling like a fish and dressed like a cherry popsickle! Jeanette got up to make breakfast and, at the smell of the eggs, Rita, while still asleep and drooling, lightly floated up (suspended from terra firma of course) and instinctively followed the scent of the food and sat at the table. Then, she woke up! And then the rest was chaos! Rita shot like a bolt of lightning to get her magic bullet! She is now into blended food! She basically DRANK all her food! Into the blender, she put eggs, toast, milk, oranges, jam, peanut brittle and treebark and gobbled it down through a straw, while the rest of us ate real food! Then, for kicks, she beat up Dieter and held him down and gave him piggies, much to my glee! Cleopas, returning secretly from his night of buzzing tried to look as normal as possible but forgot that he had pixie dust in his hair still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So where was Paulie-Frumpyfinns at this point you might ask? Well, he was with his lumpty-dumm-dumms, Kee-Kee Kicklesqueals! He spent the night at her parents' home WITH her parents!!!! Just to clarify there... He came flittering in without his feet touching the ground once. He wreaked of hearts!!! Everywhere he went, he had little red hearts oozing from his corpus! I know that that cannot be good for the environment!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent part of the day in a park. We rolled Rita down the hill at least thrice, and played ring-aound-the-rosie a few times. We took pictures of us jumping around some trees and watched Dieter zwiddle desperately around the park after consuming the equivalent of five large coke slurpees!!! In fact his brothers were able to harness him to the front of their car and made him pull them all back to where we were staying to save on gas. And he did! He even got a ticket for speeding!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as we got home, I was in the kitchen cooking up a storm! I made one of my desperately moist chocolate cakes and got started on dinner. I basically kept the kitchen hopping because the more I did, the less anyone thought about eating me, especially Cleopas!!! I could always tell when he was hungry. He'd look at me longingly and drool!!! So I cooked until I was silly!!! Once everyone was fed, we got to a point in the evening when we felt too lazy to set up the tents, so we decided to sleep IN again!!! So that is where the retreat turned outside-IN!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday! Again, I was up scaring the birds out of their eggs!!! This time, I thought of a soothing song to sing, like, "HOJOTOHOJO!!!!!!" As I fell up the flight of steps (yes! Fell UP!), I ran smack into Mrs. K., who was up with Mr. K. preparing a delicious waffle breakfast for us all! We ate until we were senseless again! And then we went to church, like good little boys and girls. Rita wore her frilly girly dress with a pair of boxing gloves, and Cleopas wore his favourite cape. Mervin wore his little beanie with the propellor on top,and nothing else!!!! Needless to say I had to fix that immediately (I am now in therapy after such a sight!!). We had a great time. After church we all skipped daintily BACH home where we basically packed up and thus, ended another (and possibly our last) RETREAT! RETREEEEEEEEEEET!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sad it was. I wept bitterly almost all the way home. Ask Mervin. He just sat there and watched me cry-drive, and then proceeded to fall asleep with mouth agape in the midst of my spilling my guts and bosoms all over the road!!! The nerve!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you have it! And that is EXACTLY how it all went up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOI&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-7407729317055915126?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/7407729317055915126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/07/retreat-retreeeeeeeeet-2009.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/7407729317055915126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/7407729317055915126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/07/retreat-retreeeeeeeeet-2009.html' title='Retreat! RETREEEEEEEEET 2009!!!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-4165647022156948035</id><published>2009-07-26T15:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T15:06:08.799-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hamhock Soliloguy!</title><content type='html'>TO WHISK, OR NOT TO WHISK!  That is the custard:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whether tis nobler in the bowl, to suffer the breads and butters of outrageous waistlines, or to take anice against a tub of lard, and by broasting, blend them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To brine, to sip, no more, and in a sip, to say we end this heartburn, and the thousand natural farts that flesh is 'air' to.  Tis a consumme devoutly to be dished...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To diet, to whip, to whip, perchance to drip, ay, there's the blubber!  For in that [Hershey's] kiss of blend what teas may come, when we have shriveled into an olive oil, must give us cramps; there's the preheat that make calamari of so long lime, for who would bear the creams and corns of time: The winepresser's rum, the proud lamb's compote, the pancakes of despised plum, the ham's decay, the innocence of allspice, and the burns that paste of the tomato of the inedible takes when he himself might his custards make with a clear brandy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who would fennel bear, to roll and knead under a weary hearth, but that the dread of dinner without beer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The unsanitized counter, from whose bread no foodie devours fizzes the drink and makes us rather drink those salts we have than to fry to those we know not of?  Thus corn chips doth make calories of us all, and thus the native rue of refried beans in sicklied oer with the kale pasta raw, and pepto bismols of great pots of hominy, with this regard, their currants turn awry, and chew the fat of bacon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Courtesy of MOI!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-4165647022156948035?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/4165647022156948035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/07/hamhock-soliloguy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/4165647022156948035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/4165647022156948035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/07/hamhock-soliloguy.html' title='Hamhock Soliloguy!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-4144692159898876915</id><published>2009-07-23T20:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-23T20:45:18.371-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SCOOOORE!!!!!</title><content type='html'>I have a brand new score in my meaty little fingertons!  A Ricordi score of La Donna del Lago by Gioacchino Rossini.  I was chewing on my toesies (and everyone else's) waiting for the package to arrive.  The doorbell rang!  It was the UPS man!!  I bounced upstairs and zwiddled desperately to the door, and scared the UPS man half to death by almost colliding into him!  I took the package and was wondering why he was still standing there.  He had his hand out waiting for payment of $2.71 CAD for duty.  So I ran up and down the stairs like an insane person looking for change!  After three attempts, I finally found the amount, paid him and sent him on his way, which I am sure he was glad to be at that point. I was now alone with my new score, all packaged in bubblewrap (*glee*) and stared at it for a long time.  To savour the suspense, I decided to wait until the next day when I was at the Faculty of Music at the U of M, seated for the unveiling!  Once opened, I proceeded to INHALE the book!  There is something about a new book smell!  You almost do not want to open it, but put it in bed and cover it with a blanket and feed it porridge!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But alas, I opened the book!  The suspense at this point was so thick that even Lulu was drooling from behind the counter on the OTHER side of the room and she did not even know it!!!!  Like a raging sadist, I grabbed my florescent GREEN marker (now let me state that many people think that that colour is yellow...YOU ARE WRONG!!!) and proceeded to get totally carried away in marking my part in the score! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After two solid hours (and three bathroom trips!) of marking, I was complete!!!!  SUCCESS!!!!  And in honour of the occasion, I did a little shimmy and jig on the spot!  Then I began to hear certain desperate strains wreaking havoc in my ear.  The NYMPHS and SHEPHERDS came down from the bookshelves to rejoice with me in my glee!  They knew that Lulu was given her coffeine patch for the day and did not have to fear her lack-of-morning-hemlock, nymph-and-shepherd-eating rampage which always seems to happen so quickly that not even Lulu can remember what happened, and always wonders why she has feathers and permed hair stuck in her teeth!  So after playing a quick game of ring-around-the-rosey, they flitted away to keep from being caught.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, it was time for me to mount my umbrella once again and ride the westerly winds home.  And tomorrow, I shall RETREAT!  RETREEEEEEEEEET (2009) BACH to Steinbach, once again! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**JUMPSPLITS**&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-4144692159898876915?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/4144692159898876915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/07/scoooore.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/4144692159898876915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/4144692159898876915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/07/scoooore.html' title='SCOOOORE!!!!!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-584599744269668170</id><published>2009-07-22T18:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T18:31:23.244-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wedding Preparations!</title><content type='html'>So now, I have the desperate pleasure of watching Patrick-Frumpyfinns and his appledumpling-dumm-didi-dumm-dumms, Kee-Kee-Kicklesqueals zwiddle about desperately like a pair of rabid turtles as they go through last minute wedding jitters, and all in Matrix-like slow motion!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kicklesqueals has the amazing talent of falling asleep in any position she finds herself in. When she is not sleeping, she is scheming via subliminal messages to the wedding party, as she really wants to see us all in pepto bismol coloured tu-tus flitting down the aisle, "am Punkte" to the music of Swan Lake played on the gazoo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, Frumpyfinns is wandering around enjoying his hairy scruffy-ness, and gleefully unaware that he will be descended upon and groomed, which will of course involve fishingline, duct tape, cement, hot parafin wax, a sander, mitre saw, steel wool and drain-o!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mervin, even though he pretends not to be excited, is chomping at the bit to get back to Winnipeg! When he thinks no one is looking, he jumps up and down, clapping his hands in glee over his impending arrival, and to make the time go even faster, he has taken up an online knitting course to learn how to crochet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr. and Mrs. L. in all of this continue to remain sane. Mrs. L. busies herself with making sure that calls are returned, menus tackled, etc, while Mr. L. quietly watches all the bustle from the sidelines, playing his guitar and chewing on a blade of wheat, and escapes the stress by going to bed early. SMART MAN!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am like the wrench thrown into it all!!! In the midst of all the running around and yelling for the phone, and chasing after Frumpyfinns with a grooming kit, I mount the spring board and nose-dive right into the middle of it all, wreaking havoc in my wake and baking desserts at everyone! I figure that the busier I keep, the less likely it is for me to get eaten!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOI&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-584599744269668170?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/584599744269668170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/07/wedding-preparations.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/584599744269668170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/584599744269668170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/07/wedding-preparations.html' title='Wedding Preparations!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-9184869327068914048</id><published>2009-07-21T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T21:40:56.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Cool Summer!</title><content type='html'>Now, whenever I zwiddle desperately hither and thither through the city, certain growns of constipation fall upon my ear, and these growns come from those who are not enjoying the cool summer we are having in Canada.  As for me, I could not be happier!!!  I love to wake up to the sun's rays dancing desperately upon the frosty dew on the grass, and the chill in the air just makes me want to fling myself upon a horse, and ride naked through a field of rutabagas!!!! The brisk air nipping at my chins, the birdies twerping happily without a care in the world, the nymphs and shepherds dancing in a ring, again with their bad $2.99 perma-nama-nents!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it is time to embrace the frigid days of summer!  Yelling at the sun is not going to do anything really.  It just makes one hoarse after a while.  Instead I think that we should break out our sweaters and sit by a campfire and sing KUMBAYA!!!  I look at this as the perfect time to do all the gardening and all other forms of outside work, without having to sweat too much.  That way, we can fan less and mop less brows. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other thing is that this cool time can prepare us for the winter to follow.  Yes!  It keeps our blood pumping thick so that we have more of a chance of staying warm and toasty when those winter months roll in! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, put away the shorts and miniskirts and break out the fur because winter is not too far away!  *CONFETTI!*  HURRAY!!!  *jump-splits*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, I shall give myself a good headstart, seeing that, upon reading this blog, especially by some people who will remain nameless, I will be hunted down by an angry mob of rabid cannibals with torches seeking to render me defunct, tied to a stake, , pickled, stuffed, trussed, seasoned and culinated!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YEAY WINTER!!!!!!!!!!!  *pom-poms, and hides*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOI&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-9184869327068914048?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/9184869327068914048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/07/cool-summer.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/9184869327068914048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/9184869327068914048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/07/cool-summer.html' title='A Cool Summer!'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2830019901453494730.post-6914411699514814041</id><published>2009-07-21T15:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T15:24:04.268-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just in case you didn't know it...</title><content type='html'>Here are 10 desperate factoids that you can make use of when being eaten (and I am an absolute expert of this subject!):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  When attacked, fling yourself upon the ground, flail and squeal wildly, loudly and desperately!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  Avoid all moisturizers which contain VEGETABLE oils!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Develop your own anti-eat-me/cannibal repellent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  Create great distances between your corpus, and trussing cords and, metal stakes...and oh yes!  APPLES!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  COnsume precarious amounts of chocolate!  It causes the body to produce enzymes rendering you rather tasteless!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  Adopt a vegetarian mountain lion as a pet and name it Mildred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  Work out desperately at the gym and get all pumped up, like AH-NULD!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.  When being coaxed into a cauldron, scream and run away!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.  When being drooled upon, disorientate predator by singing wildly off-key at double-forte!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. If none of this works, be scrappy...BITE!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't thank me for sharing this with you for it was my pleasure!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MOI&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2830019901453494730-6914411699514814041?l=godivatruffle.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/feeds/6914411699514814041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/07/just-in-case-you-didnt-know-it.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/6914411699514814041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2830019901453494730/posts/default/6914411699514814041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://godivatruffle.blogspot.com/2009/07/just-in-case-you-didnt-know-it.html' title='Just in case you didn&apos;t know it...'/><author><name>Paul's "G"odivaspot</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02996735058611040252</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_WI4_FjZHX1k/SmaSymZuimI/AAAAAAAAAAM/aEoIhNCGkJk/S220/Paul+Anthony+Williamson,+tenor2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
