SAW IT. THOUGHT OF YOU: A Cornucopia of Delightfully Entertaining Complete Bollocks

Hello, You! Yes, You! Long time no blog: I've missed you, you know. No, that's the wrong way round, isn't it? It is you who should have been missing me, being as this is my blog and all. But then, you haven't clamoured for your occasional dose of Mu-Nonsense, so I conclude that my first statement was correct. It is I who have missed you. Commence talking bollocks...

because you know I love Science and shit

A few things have happened that have made me want to bite on spoons again, but there's no need to dwell on those. If I were to write a blog on Why Fifty Shades In Any Of Its Forms Is A Pile Of Fucking Old Wank*, well, I may as well write a blog on Why Hurting Kittens Is Mean. 
I had a birthday; birthdays are not my favourite, but some of you did give me very lovely presents. Thanks ever so much! You are far more generous than I deserve.

because you know I love Octopuses and crazy undies

But no. Instead of spoon-chewing, or birthday gifts, I'm going to share a collection of pictures and clips that you've been sharing with me, in those saw-it-thought-of-you moments. You do know me: lately it's been Chemistry; Bosoms; Grammar; Fancy Shoes; Swearing; Filth; and Octopuses. Sometimes you tell me that I've been in one of your dreams! I LOVE that! And they've all been really cool dreams too, making me quite envious that I wasn't actually there... there was the holding-hands-on-the-bus one; and the carrying-my-luggage-in-LA one; and the drinking-tea-with-Russell-Brand one (no-one's hinted at anything too filthy. That's probably a good thing. But, you know, if it ever happens, keep it to yourself, there's a love. And besides, I'd feel sorry for you). 

because you know I love a bit of Filth

Whenever anyone sends me something like this, though - some little inconsequential item which brought me into their minds - I'm always immensely happy. Perhaps that makes me needy; rather, I hope it means I look for pleasure in small things. If that's true, it means you've seen it too. Thank you. Here they are, dotted about - just a few recent ones. 

There's also this song,which I love, and this blog post, which is just delicious. I want to be her.

www.thebloggess.com

Okay - one spoon-biting moment. For undisclosed reasons, I've been obliged to make my Instagram account private. A private IG profile! Oxymoron much? There hasn't been a greater vehicle for displaying images of narcissistic optimism since the Great Pyramids of Giza. I'm rather fond of my IG account, and I post in there quite frequently. There are many others which would register far higher on the -ometers of Art, Poetry, Beauty, baked goods and Ass-Selfies; still, if you don't already follow me, I'd love it if you would. Otherwise, you won't be able to see my pretty stuff. And that would be a shame. 

Instagram. It makes your eyes go funny

*That's not to say that much has not been written on this subject that isn't well-presented and valid. Here's my favourite. Plus there's this, which about sums it up:

This Is All I Have To Say On The Subject Of Easter This Year

PINTERFACE-TWITTAGRAM And Why I Love It. Dot Mu.

DO YOU KNOW YOU CAN FIND ME ON FACEBOOK? Of course you do. It’s probably how you ended up here.

You - yes, you! Say something

And on Twitter – you can find me there, twittering away with my chums; and now on Insta-that, too.

Oh, and of course, Pinterest, with my *famed ‘Woops, There Go My Panties’ Beard Porn Board, providing late-night entertainment for Ladies the world over, apparently (and Men. That’s implicit). Look me up, I post all sorts of pretty things. And Beards. Lots of Beards.

I have a website; it isn’t especially good, but…  

FACEBOOK  https://www.facebook.com/MurielLavenderPoetrix

WEBSITE ... you can look, if you like www.muriel-lavender.com

PINTEREST*  http://www.pinterest.com/muriellavender/

BLOG  http://muriel-lavender.blogspot.com/

TWITTER @MurielLavender          INSTAGRAM @muriellavender

… but really, this is where the fun happens.  Why not follow my blog, while you’re here?

I’M GOOD AT SOCIAL MEDIA. Insofar as there is a proper way to use it, I use it in the properest way. That is, I keep it light and sparkling¹, I interact with people all over the world, and I don’t post pictures of my fucking dinner.  Or of rainbows, either.  I know they’re nice, but for fuck’s sake, the entire world doesn’t need to join me in running outside to point at the pretty thing.

because there's never a bad time to look at my legs

Being an International Superstar (as I most certainly am, what with being the current World #2 Whiskerina, and also Pope, so there’s that) naturally I meet the most interesting people. Some of them are are so remarkable that I just fall in love with them right there. Others are plain peculiar.  Some of them don’t exist (staggeringly beautiful 19-year-old transsexual living in my hometown? No, I think I’d have met you by now *ignores friend request*); whilst others really seem to admire my shoes to an unholy degree. I’m absolutely ok with that. Some of them – most, I must say, actually, there’s no ‘some’ about it – are tremendously witty and intellectually stimulating. But then, I move in the social circles, the celebrity squares, and the Dairylea triangles of Poetry, Burlesque, Steampunk and Competitive Bearding.  Wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful.

FINALLY GETS TO THE POINT

I want to introduce you to a fellow blogger, with whom I have enjoyed many a half-hour of amusing and/or challenging conversation. Sometimes we talk about Beards, or dreams, or snow; sometimes religion or sex or politics; sometimes we just do Monty Python sketches or sing silly songs. One night we chatted about Poetry. I admit now, Dorkbeard, you worried me at that point. Anyone who says ‘I used to write poetry.’ is as wont to unleash a storm of self-pitying dribble as they are to unleash the literary equivalent of cock-shots. So I played it down a little. Ok, a very little: I replied that my poetical output was really just a series of minge jokes. But a few minutes later DB sent me a poem full of such bliss that I have, in fact, performed at it two shows now (introducing it as the work of my good friend, just as I ought) – and congratulations have poured in. The audiences loved it. And, as it is indeed itself a thoroughly good minge joke, here it is:

A woman once said that a rose is a rose is a rose

But I'm afraid that I'm inclined to disagree

For each and every flower is uniquely distinct

When properly observed upon bended knee

Some have pink petals like satin and silk

So tightly closed their inner mystery they hide

Other still appear more like sun-bleached, chewed leather

And are open enough to fall inside

Some blossoms are set within manicured gardens

Some alone or with a neat shrub upon the porch

Yet others seem lost within deep, tangled jungles

So dark one may need to bring a torch

The sweetest of blooms smell sweetly and pure

It's a pleasure to behold their bouquet

Yet there are those left alone and not tended with care

Those smell more like low tide near the bay

Dear ladies please heed these small words of advice

And tend well to the roses that you keep

For then any true gentleman will gladly bend his head low

And ensure that his appreciation runs deep

Dorkbeard

5 March 2014

Delicious. See what I mean?  My acquaintance via the internets, they set the bar pretty high. I love their company and I am grateful⁴.

Incidentally, when it comes to Facebook, I have only ever blocked about a dozen people or so, and every single one of them was either a) racist or b) unimaginative. One bright spark managed to claim the entire intersection of that particular Venn diagram for himself by referring to someone as a 'curry-eater'. You really couldn't make it up, could you?

Get to know Dorkbeard here http://dorkbeard.wordpress.com/

¹Don’t start. I’m also aware that social media is an invaluable tool for spreading knowledge, politics and global issues, unadulterated by news agencies or governmental bias. But so is telly and it doesn’t stop them broadcasting Hollyoaks² and I’m A Third-Rate Celebrity and all the other lowest-common-denominator brain-rot.  As I said, I mostly do minge jokes. If you want serious political debate, go and see Russell Brand³.

²Is that even on, anymore? I’m well out of touch with the televisual device, me.

Is this yours?

³Russell Brand. I so would. I can’t help it. 

⁴Yes, I’m also fond of those who post when they get their hands stuck in the Pringles tube, but that is for very different reasons.

 

Oh, Godddd... She's At It Again

Thank Goodness I'm Pope

Jesus didn’t look like Jesus. I think we’re all grown-up enough to admit that now. So why does Jesus look the way he does?  Perhaps we can put that down to the early European artists who wanted European (that is, white) Christians to have a figure they could identify with. Look at the pictures above. Yes, go on – treat yourself. Any or all of them would attract comments of ‘he looks like Jesus’. I dare say they’d attract other comments, too, but I have a separate Beard Porn board on Pinterest for that (by the way – here it is. Well worth a look. For, like, half an hour). 

I do have experience of this phenomenon, as I am married to a man who fits the long-brown-hair-blue-eyes-nice-beard profile and gets very tired of kids mumbling look, it’s Jesus when he walks down the road. The image is powerful enough to reach teenagers who can’t see past their own Wii, and so enduring that no-one has successfully sought to update it for a thousand years. Though it might be fair to say that that is usually The Way Of Things when it comes to religious matters. 

In short, if you’ll forgive me – when did Jesus get hot? 

We were mulling this over, the girls and I… it stands to reason that an attractive and charismatic Messiah will fare better than an awkward and bumbling one (Oh, is that you, Russell Brand? Wait, who do you remind me of? No - no, it’s gone). 

 And we concluded this: 

"Go to Church! Free Wine – Hot Guys!"*

  

I thank you. Now, here is an entirely gratuitous photo of me with Trygve Seim. Because Trygve Seim.

© Ash Springle Photography for Captain Fawcett

 *Note to the Offended: Why are you even here? Did you not see my last two blogs? Have a look, there are pictures of minge on them! Oh, just go and look at Tea and Kittens, or something. Really. Pfffft.