This is cutting edge improvisational blogging. We call it –
“Whose Blog is it Anyway ?” 2 – The Unanswerables
We have written this for FUN, not serious, to amuse ourselves and our readers, and help promote our blogs. Please read with that in mind.
Commenters – Please DO NOT post outbound links whilst the event is going on AND please DO NOT post comments if you are a moron.
Whose Blog is it Anyway? 2 – The Unanswerables
Why “The Unanswerables” ? Because the titles assigned to my guest improvisers don’t have an exact scientific answer or they are just zany and off the wall.
Do not expect fact here. Do not expect the truth here. This is creative writing for FUN, HUMOUR and for those with a SENSE OF HUMOUR. It’s cutting edge IMPROVISED blogging, not science weekly or the historian’s gazette.
The guest improvisers were assigned titles by me, and are therefore NOT necessarily experts or even actually FOR the topic they are writing about. They all did however “YES, AND” the challenge which is the spirit of improvisation and what we’re doing here.
We’re not interested in your critical appraisal, it simply isn’t required. It is in fact IRRELEVANT to the context of improvised, for fun creative writing. Stop taking yourselves so seriously.
So without further ado …
Her Highness -The Eximious And Resplendent Story Painter
Kerry-Anne first came to my attention on Twitter, very charmingly asked me about a promoting her blog. She in part inspired me to write my second part of Virgin’s guide to SEO.
We have since then been great friends and she’s often to be found poking around in my blog. She’s a very warm hearted lady, who I’m proud to call me friend. She lives in the land of Kangaroos and Sheilas.
We did have a slight issue with the submission, but some Don Charisma magic seemed to work it’s powers, leading to this excellent piece of writing. Who knew that Estrogen and guns could be the start of a beautiful piece of writing …
You can find Kerry-Anne at the Journey or Destination blog.
Please give a warm welcome to Kerry-Anne.
I’m out of estrogen and I have a gun
I love telling stories and enjoy watching them spring to life on the page. I think the little details are the equivalent of the brushstrokes of a painting, they breathe life into the sketch or draft. As such I like to think of my writing as art. As with other forms, some may be to your liking, others not, as the interpretation is personal. But like a gallery I hope you will ‘wander’ through this piece I have created and hopefully like it enough to enter a few more rooms of my gallery at http://www.travellingmacs.wordpress.com
On that note…”Welcome to my piece entitled ‘I’m out of estrogen and I have a gun’. The ‘gun’ is purely figurative, as I in no way in support of the right to carry arms.
“I’m out of estrogen and I have a gun” the woman with deep rings around her sleep deprived eyes, bristly, dry hair sticking out at odd angles and was that a smear of blood across her clothing and face?? Yelled out, as if to the neighbours that surrounded her little piece of paradise. The crowd drawn by the spectacle of this screeching 50 plus woman now felt the need to withdraw back to the privacy of their locked homes, peeking only through the sides of their curtains. Everyone KNOWS how dangerous a menopausal woman is. It’s the lack of estrogen, that’s all it is. We walk on eggshells around them so it MUST be estrogen’s fault.
Just ask her kids. Yes, those 1 teen and 2 just out of teens kids who get up EVERY MORNING and ask “What’s for breakfast, there’s nothing to eat,” as their eyes skim bowls of fresh fruit, bottles of skim milk (yes she looks after their health even if they don’t) in the refrigerator, fresh bread ( yes she got up early to hit – not literally of course- the bakery ) oh and litres of their favourite fruits squeezed fresh by her hands this morning and chilled in a jug in that ‘nothing to eat’ refrigerator. “She’s downright dangerous,” the brothers and sister say to each other as they edge away from her, her red cheeks, about to blow like Mt Vesuvius, glowing. “Must be out of estrogen,” they laugh to each other, raking their fingers through her wallet, taking the last coins she was going to use for a coffee before work. “We’ll get something to eat at work,” they yell as they race out the door. “Oh and can you move your car, it’s blocking the driveway!”
Just ask the pets (the kids’ pets!) if you are fluent or have an understanding of cat and dog language. Yes, that cat who wakes up on cue 30 minutes before the alarm goes off and begins whining at the bedroom door for food. It’s not a miaow, it’s a demanding “Feed me now or my incessant whining will do your head in much more than getting up early will.” Ignore it she thinks, closing her eyes. But then with a thud a heavy mass leaps up on the bed and begins the “I’m so cute you must feed me,” walk, all over her, digging sharp claws in -affectionately of course! Dragging herself from bed, wouldn’t want husband to wake up early, he has such a busy day ahead of him, she stumbles out to the pantry to open a fancy sachet of the cat’s favourite food. Placing the saucer on the cold tiles makes a soft chink, barely audible, sound and that’s the bell for the dog to come bounding to her. He needs to go outside. Letting him out she has to stand nearby with him as the cold morning breeze floats through her nightie (better than the rain). Why does she hover? It’s 5:30am and the neighbours don’t want to hear a dog barking at birds that early. She finally lures him from the garden with the promise of a treat, feeds him his huge bowl of food and staggers back to the bedroom to hear the alarm echoing. The dog looks at the cat; they pass a knowing glance, “Must be out of estrogen,” as they chase each other around the room dragging the clean clothes from the washing basket with them.
Don’t even bother to ask her husband. He thinks she’s always had hormonal problems. Started from the day they were married.
Off she heads to work after placing the clean clothes back in the basket and a fresh load of wet clothes on the line and dropping number 2 son at school. Catching a bus would mean getting off the Xbox earlier and walking about 300 metres to the bus stop. After scrounging enough money for a coffee through a thorough search of the bottom of her bag she orders at the drive thru window, a latte with a shot of caramel. The sugar content will help her get through the morning as she had no time for breakfast. Off she drives, sipping the hot coffee, looking forward to that sweet caramel taste to coat her taste buds and delight her senses… But as the scalding liquid burns her tongue she clenches her body in anger…they forgot the caramel…again! As she breaks suddenly for the car that swerved in front of her as she approached yet another red light, the driver in the next car looks at her distorted face. “Must be out of estrogen,” he thinks.
Arriving at work an hour before she actually starts so she can catch up on some issues a few others are also there. She logs onto her slow computer, begins preparing for the tasks she wants to complete when loud and pompously the boss wanders past, “Let’s have a meeting as we are all here,”. With a roll of her eyes, she grabs her notepad, her pen cup tips everywhere as she struggles to find a pen that works, before she heaves the entire mess into the garbage bin with a ceremoniously large crash. Grabbing her iPad instead, she runs to where the others have gathered. One winks to another, “Must be out of estrogen.”
After work she hits the grocery store vying for a car park with the retired ones that have been out having fun all day, the ones with screaming toddlers picked up fresh from day-care, the parents with school age kids. The noise buzzes in her head, all she wants is a little quiet. Her trolley has the crooked wheel and it taps out a non-rhythmic click, the irregularity drawing her attention in an agitated way. Now, the decision of what to have for dinner. The family always suggested ‘anything’ but it was in fact a very limited ‘anything’ they ate. Choosing the mince and pasta sauce option – bolognaise was a safe bet- she threw other necessities into the trolley and headed for the checkout. Laying the goods on the conveyor in her own personal preference order, she watched without murmuring as the cashier randomly grabbed her items. She watched without murmur as the heavy pet food tins went on top of the fruit, she’d move it around at the car. She watched without murmur as the detergents went in the same bag as the cold goods, that’s ok, she’d move it around at the car. But then the soft drink bottle went with the bread. Politely she asked for the bread to be in a separate bag. The cashier completed the task with a frown asking for the money gruffly. As she then pushed off the wonky trolley the cashier turned to her fellow worker and was heard to say, “Must be out of estrogen,” and they laughed.
Washing in off the line, groceries dragged from the car, everything put away in the pantry or refrigerator, animals fed, bolognaise sauce simmering, spaghetti bubbling away in a large pot, table set.
Phone beeps, a text from her husband.
Train delayed. will grab dinner now cause I’ll be late. Can you record “New Tricks” on Foxtel for me pls.
Phone beeps, text from her number 2 son.
James’ mum said she’ll drop me home after dinner. Sam will b round to ours soon to pic up his Xbox remote. can u find it in my room pls. 🙂
Phone beeps, text from her daughter.
Going str8t 2 bf from work had maccas for din. will be home bout 10. Bought new dress can u help me with hem then pls xxx
Phone beeps, a text from her firstborn son.
Heading out for dinner and movies with mates. Don’t wait up.
Phone beeps … unknown sender number.
Hi this is a friendly reminder from XYZ car dealer. Your car ABC 123 is due for its next service. Please phone us ASAP to book it in.
She reads the message again. That is her husband’s number plate, not hers!!
Running her fingers through her hair in an angry not elegant way, she drags the pots from the hot elements. Bolognaise sauce splatters on her blouse and she smears a little from her face. She trips over the animals as she races up the stairs to her bedroom. In her head , over and over, she begins to think they are right, there’s no other reason for these feelings of resentment and anger she is feeling, why it has to be!! It MUST be!! No other excuse!!!
She near pulls the window from its runner as she opens it wildly, sticking her head out screaming to anyone in the neighbouring houses who would listen…..
Thanks for reading. I look forward to reading your comments, thoughts and maybe experiences.
BY Kerry-Anne, blogger extraordinaire at the Journey or Destination blog.
Notes for commenters:
Comments are invited. BUT you are reminded that this is a public blog and you are also reminded to think before you press the “post comment” button.
DO NOT post outbound links in my comments whilst “Whose Blog is it Anyway? 2” is in progress.
Good manners are a mark of a charismatic person – so please keep comments civil, non-argumentative, constructive and related, or they will be moderated. If you feel you can’t comply, press the “unfollow” button and/or refrain from commenting.
I read ALL comments but can’t always reply. I will comment if I think there’s something that I can add to what you’ve said. I do delete without notice comments that don’t follow rules above. For persistent offenders I will ignore you permanently and/or report you.
Most decent people already know how to behave respectfully. Thank you for your co-operation on the above.
Warm regards, Don Charisma