sweasel.com

Crappy Birthday sweasel dot com!

*raises glass of Welches grape juice*

Here, here!

Shit, I missed the tits. Story of my goddamned life.

*raises glass of early-morning-smaple-looking green tea*

Here’s to the next year of black-and-white, weasel-centric stuff.

I’ve learned that I’m a girl.
You will soon be feeling feeling you’ve never felt before. A flowering.

Here’s to you!

*looks for meds bottle. Doesn’t find it. Grabs tootsie roll instead. Finds it is a empty wrapper. Gives up in disgust. Forgets what he was doing.*

Here’s to you!

Wow! It’s been a year already? Happy blog-birthday!

Ow. I just re-read my first ever post and realized I referred to Stoaty as “him.” I thought I’d maintained rigorous gender non-commitalness from the beginning, but I guess not.

That explains the cigar.

Him is a pronoun
Her tried like hell to avoid.
Blew it right up front!

Maroons had a clue
from the first delicate post
But remained clueless.

There once was a young girl named S.Weasel
who used her blog as a veritable devil’s easel
She posted strange anecdotes,and male-looking stoats
and ‘facts’ that were generally unbelievable.

From one American to a fellow merkin – May your blog live long and your beard never fail you! Happy – B Day S. (May I call you S?) and good night Mrs. Calabash, where ever you are.

Actually, I guess us maroons didn’t have a clue right up front. I seem to be confused again. But that’s ok!

A blog, one year older today,
Was a-celebrating! Hip hip hurray!
With a limerick by Lokki
bad haiku by Steamboat-y
And lightening stayed quite well away!

Lightning. Mrff!

Trying to work in
“Lightning shot out of his ass”
Somehow and somewhere.

You guys are affecting my brain. I saw a news article about a man named Gorrange this week, and all I could think was, “at last! A rhyme for orange!”

For your blog-birthday I gift you with weasle lore: Weasel Hair Brushes.

D’oh! I messed up the link. Let’s try this again.

Is that the same hair they use in merkins?

Kolinsky! I paid $130 in 1978 for a fine sable brush. I was living on ramen, five for a buck, at the time. It’s a beaut. Must be upstairs somewhere. As it turns out, that’s not the sort of watercoloring I do, but it’s a joy to rub against your cheek.

Handprint.com. That’s one of the many browser windows I found open the other morning and I don’t know how I got there. Is that linked off your place, Enas?

It is! That guy put a ton of work in researching watercolor painting and related materials. I was reading up on the brushes section the other day and thought of you when reading about the kolinsky sable stuff.

Made from the tip tail hairs of the Russian kolinsky. Proper brushes are never trimmed, they’re shaped by hand in little cups, tied off with thread just before the thickest, middlest part of the hair (the ‘belly’) and clamped at that point in a metal ferrule. So the hairs of a brush are twice as long as what’s visible. Unless they’re properly made, like this, watercolor brushes lack ‘snap’.

After years and I don’t know how much money spent on fine watercolor brushes, I finally came to the conclusion I do just as well with cheap synthetics, with the techniques I use.

Very interesting site. No, wait…very thorough site with a lot of good information. His delivery is a tad dry.

Happy bidet, Stoaty! I hope it’s another year, and then many many more after that.

Awww…hey, Felix. Good to see your head pop over the parapet!

As a latecomer to this particularly party, all I can say is I’m glad you’re around to help while away the hours of the midnight shift…

Happy Birthday!

I believe you get a pass on the gender thing from Mr. Mark Twain, from his commentary on “English As She is Spoke”.

“Nobody can add to the absurdity of this blog, nobody can imitate it successfully, nobody can hope to produce its fellow; it is perfect”

Yeah, what Dave said.

This blog is the duck-billed platypus of blogs.

Well put.

Excellent! The platypus is a monotreme, which means “one hole.” YOU work it out.

Incidentally, it might help to know Brits (or at least my Brit) pronounce “bidet” “BEEday” rather than “biDAY.”

“one hole.”

Y’know, I’d just today resolved to clean up my language and act a bit. Then you run that dab of info past me.

The evoked imagery is gonna be with me. All. Day. Long.

It puggles the mind.

One hole – that’s taking multi-tasking way too far. It ain’t right I tell you.

Eggses.

That is an egg chute. A eggses exit, if you will permit me a small bon mot.

Plat’s plop eggses.

And that ain’t right either.

They have a different hole for eating, if that makes you feel any better.

What?

Oh. So they really do have….two.

Well, I feel a lot more comfortable now. The idea of them plopping eggses from their pie-holes really bothered me.

Regarding toilets and bidets, have a blast: I Wanna Be Like Osama. (The performer looks Semitic; can’t tell if he’s an Arab or a Jew.)