sweasel.com

Verse, the First:

i WAS A WEASEL FULL OF BOOZE
with Nuthin’ to loose
snuggled down in the English Country Side

Next?

Lokki, when I read your lyrics my brain set them to the tune of “I am Woman”.

I got nuthin’

She has photo-shopped before,
But not shit-faced on the floor
Of an English mansion, Winter chill outside.

Uhm, Dawn – you couldn’t get much farther wrong, I’m kind of sorry to report –
Actually the tune in my head as I wrote that was a old Johnny Winter Song.

It had rained for 3 days straight
But the sun was beginning to shine
Two riders were approachin’
But they weren’t no friends of mine.

And ya know a man ain’t nothing without his gun.”

I got the nuthin’ part right. 😉

RANT ALERT! RANT ALERT!

At the Advice of the Surgeon General:
Those in a joyous and peacefully tranqualized Sunday Morning mood should skip this post.

Sorry for the knee-jerk reaction to “I am Woman” but that’s a song that I have hated (on several levels) for -wow!- more than 30 years now. Of all the mewling ‘proves-what-is says-is-bullshit-all-by-itself’ songs “I am Woman” has to top the list.

I have no problem with strong women; I enjoy women with opinions and a sense of self-assurance…. and I enjoy the companionship of a woman who will, when the mood strikes drink her scotch with just a drop of water, and smoke a cigar. I like women with ideas and a sense of humor, and above all women with courage. However, I want my women to be women. I like feminine and feminine doesn’t mean sissy; a good woman can help butcher a hog without losing her feminity. You can fuck Helen Reddy – but I never would.

If you want a good you-bet-your-ass-women-are-as-good-men-song give me “Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better” from “Annie Get Your Gun”

ANNIE OAKLEY FRANK BUTLER:

Anything you can do,
I can do better.
I can do anything
Better than you.

Yes, I can! No, you can’t!

Now THERE’s a WOMAN!

But I hate women who want to be men.

Here are the lyrics to “I Am Woman”

Compare and Contrast and tell me which woman you’d rather spend a weekend in bed with – or twenty-five years.

am woman, hear me roar
In numbers too big to ignore
And I know too much to go back an’ pretend
’cause I’ve heard it all before
And I’ve been down there on the floor
No one’s ever gonna keep me down again

FADE
I am woman
I am invincible
I am strong
I am woman

RANT OFF

Oh. OH! Annie Get Your Gun! You want rant? I’ll give you rant! I ain’t much of a feminist, folks, but seven year old weasel saw AGYG on the Disney Sunday movie or whatever the hell it was and nearly popped her spleen.

“Let me get this straight…” a white-hot angry mustelid sputtered, “she LET HIM WIN?!”

I never got over it…

OH! And while we’re in Battle of the Sexes territory…yesterday morning, I heard Uncle B give a horrified yelp from upstairs. “Weasel…I’ve done a terrible thing!”

Now, Uncle B’s proportionometer is kind of broken, so that could mean he tore a hole in a sock, or he singlehandedly crashed the mortgage market leading to worldwide recession and starvation in the streets. You never know.

But this time, it meant he’d reached for the radio and knocked my expensive Sonicaire toothbrush into the toilet.

At least I know he loves me more than he fears me, or he would’ve wiped it off and put it back on the shelf and never said a word.

Damnit! I used to think those Sonicaires were all hype.

Never seen such a gleaming bowl..

Hmmm Expensive Electronic hand-carried-all-the-way-from-another-country toothbrush in the toilet?

Oh Dear….

Lokki thinks: Well, maybe just this once, there’s an argument to be made for a legitimate use of:

I am pissed-off woman, hear me ROAR! Hopes store are open on New Year’s Eve to buy replacement head so Badger can enjoy New Year’s Kisses

That’s what I was going to say…at least he told you.

Wow, that story takes me back…I remember the first time I dropped Mrs. Pupster’s toothbrush in the toilet.

*sigh*

Good times. Good times.

Well, since I am at the office today, I will put the time to good use, and relate one of the formative bathroom-related experiences of the Lokki marriage.

We had just married a month or so earlier, and were snuggled cozily into our tiny apartment above the drycleaners. Young lovers, we’d ‘slept’ oblivious to the (literal) typhoon that raged outside overnight. It being Sunday morning, we decided to have tea and bisquits in bed, and Mrs. Lokki, my princess, floated gracefully as a naked gazelle for the two steps from the bedroom to the kitchen to boil some water. I snuggled down into the blankets busying myself with the important duty of keeping the bed toasty warm.

Suddenly from the kitchen came the most horrible scream, I’d ever heard in my life! It literally made my blood run cold. I KNEW what had happened. Mrs. Lokki’s endearing traits include a bit of clumsiness when excited.
I realized that she had dropped the tea kettle and had splashed boiling water all over her ahem unclothed body!

I reacted more from instinct than thought. In a single stride, I was in the kitchen. I grabbed her trembling body and put her under my arm – my strength almost superhuman. Without hesitation, I threw her into the shower and turned on the cold water to stop the burning. God, it was horrible!

Except…. she wasn’t burned. At all. Anywhere. She stood in the ice cold shower and looked up at me in fear, awe, and shock. She had absolutely no idea in the world why I had done such a mad thing.

As I turned off the shower, and handed the perplexed girl a towel,I fortunately remembered that I had had a good reason for throwing her in the shower! She’d screamed!

Glancing carefully around for knives and other sharp objects, I asked her why she’d screamed, if she wasn’t burned. Words almost failed her, but in the end, only her English vocabulary. “ Tokage” she whimpered. “ Sinku ni Tokage imashita”

Now, I could figure out “sink” but what the !@%#~!% was a Tokage? I strode to the kitchen still pumped with enough adrenalin to kill Godzilla if necessary. There in the sink I found the tiniest orange Salamander who was apparently as scared as the rest of us, judging from the way his little heart was beating through his chest. He’d found his way inout of the storm though the slightly open kitchen window and fallen in the sink – there to be discovered by the scared-of-lizards-of-all-varieties naked Mrs. Lokki who had screamed in surprise.

We are still working out the lessons of this incident, some 25 years later.

Who the hell puts water in their scotch?
If so, it better damned well be branch water…heh

Oh. Uh, Happy New Year

Thank you, Lokki. I needed that.

Who the hell puts water in their scotch?
If so, it better damned well be branch water…heh

Um…I do. Well, ice, actually. Then I let it melt a bit. I like spring water ice, but I take what I can get, as long as its not nasty hard water ice like in Phoenix, AZ. Christ, the water there sucked.

Sounds like London water, McGoo. They say it’s purer than the bottled kind, but when you make a cup of tea, it has a surface film on it like pond scum.

Thank you, Lokki. That was a heartwarming tale of love, nudity and spousal abuse. I’ll bet there is a little corner of Mrs Lokki’s mind that will forever believe you will soak her in icewater again if she startles you.

I put a cube of ice in my scotch, too. Sandy Claws brung me a bottle of Glenmorangie, this year — hurrah! I didn’t think he would, since I haven’t finished last year’s bottle.

Single malt, such as Stoaty’s christmas gift stand
so very well alone, with finger nail screeching on
a black board I might allow a branch water ice cube
(no pond scum allowed).
Having a cup o tea in Londonstan should be a very
fleeting and infrequent thing.
/Middlewoodford

Oh uh, and it’s LAPHROAIG
http://www.laphroaig.com/

“…since I haven’t finished last year’s bottle.”

Well, obviously you’re not drinking enough. Ya see,

1 Fifth /= 1 year scotch supply. That’s just axiomatic.

There you have it: scientific proof.

You’ll just have to make an additional effort, M’lady.

Badger: no water supply should have a film on it or a distinctive smell – but I have run into that very thing before. More times than I care to count. But so far as I know I have never actually gotten sick from somewheres (heh) water supply.

Except Mexico water, of course. I could tell you a story, but you can no-doubt anticipate its major components, i.e. what Pepto Bismol is for.

Thought I was gonna die.

Laphroaig!

Ahhhhhhhhhh………………….

*stars come out and twinkle*

Oh, wow……..

Laphroaig is the one substance…the one fluid….the single stand-alone Separator…that determines whether you are made of Stern Stuff…or just another alimentary canal.

People either love it or despise it to the ends of the earth. I do not believe there is a middle ground.

Oh. In the case of Laphroaig – one fifth can very well be a years supply.

Oh my god… Nosmo King, that was the funniest thing I’ve seen all day, and that rivals even my coworker’s new hand-knitted sweater that his 12-year old daughter made him and he’d regrettably promised that he’d wear on his first day back to work. The thing was a VERY striking splash of haphazardly strewn rows of orange, purple, and electric green, and one of the arms was about four inches shorter than the other. It came to just above his waistline, and he kept pushing it down in an uncomfortable-looking sort of way. I think he was hoping that there wouldn’t be many people in today. Unfortunately, we’re all a bit behind, and there were quite a few gawkers today. I told him to tell his daughter that the sweater was lovely, and that she should look online for some new ideas, and then send a few more displays our way.

My coworker – with whom I’m on a rather familiar basis – gave me a provocative hand gesture and a half-hearted chuckle.

Even that isn’t as funny as Nosmo King’s tale, however. I’m going to have to take that one home to share with others. :p

By the way, am I correct in my inference that Nosmo King is Lokki in disguise? Or am I just missing something?

I have yet to brave the joys of Laphroaig, but everyone speaks of it in the same hushed tones. Like chewing peat, I gather.

Sometimes after Christmas here you can find a sweet deal on those little sampler bottles done up as gifts. It’s a good way to try a lot of whiskies with little financial risk. I’d hate to fork over for a big bottle of Laphroaig only to find I wouldn’t use it to daub knee wounds.

I have weak little tastebuds that jade quickly. So I only use single malt for the first jigger of an evening. After that, I switch to something cheap and vile…because I can no longer taste the difference anyhow. Which is how I squeeze a year out of a bottle — one jigger on special occasions. Like Fridays.

Oh! Just on Fridays? Now I understand.

Yeah – buying a whole fifth of Laphroaig blindly is a risky venture.

I’d recommend you do as you say – get a sampler or two. Just don’t swear that its spoiled – or has been swapped out with cheap paint thinner – the first time you taste it: its not. That’s just the way Laphroaig is.

If Nosmo King is Lokki, then are Orsen Bugeigh and Oliver Closoff also He Who Is Known As Lokki?

Well don’t I feel like an idiot. Again.

I am known for nursing a bottle meself Stoaty.
/scrooge…

The other scrooged drink of this house is
Dry Sack…
http://www.internetwines.com/rws18875.html

Nosmo King is indeed a Nom de Blog for Lokki; it’s left over from a post I either wrote or was going to post in the ‘street signs for foreigners’ thread below, and apparently I’d forgotten to change back to Lokki. It’s an old joke that I think originated with a Brit Vaudeville actor. The joke – Nosmo King is really “No Smoking”…. A Lokki-like joke, No?

The story about that salamander is very, very true. I’m glad that it amuses… although I DO want to applaud the father who wore his daughter’s sweater to work. Well Done brave sir!

As for Whiskey – my personal consistent choice for the last year or so seems to be Glenfiddich Solara Reserve. Just a few drops of bottled spring water please, and no ice. My preference is to pour about 3 ounces into my silver christening cup and drink till I remember receiving the cup.

I can’t comment about Sherry…. I keep a bottle for friends, but it rarely comes out. Alone, we tend to reach for the Scotch and the Cognac respectively. Now to the main question:

What foods go best with a good glass of Sherry? That’s the real question! It’s all about something tasty to drink and something nice to nibble with it!

Afterwards, Lokki, the roast beef with a rich
Yorkshire pudding and nicely steamed veggies…
sometimes a nice nighttime draft.
Can’t always do the hot milk thing you know…

Well except in summer time and having splurged
overwhelmingly on the sherry trifle….

Lokki is absolutely correct, the man in question was a rather down at heel music hall comedian who, sitting in a railway carriage one night, saw the rune ‘No Somking’ on the window, decided to adopt it as his new name and thenceforth forged a useful career. I think I remember hearing him on the steam wireless, when I was a very young badger.

Must say, I’m rather amazed that anyone else has ever heard of him!

Oh.. and sherry? Vile stuff, in my opinion, but I gather nuts, biscuits, cheese are the usual complements.

Mouthwash would suit me better but chacun a son gout as the Frogs say!