Travesty Tuesdays: The Potentially Sacrilegious Edition

While going through my childhood bedroom I discovered postcards that I purchased when I visited Italy. So I brought them to my grandparents with the intent of writing to people. This act resulted in the following conversation.

Granddad while rifling through my stack of postcards splayed all over his dining room table “Unwashed, what are these?”

Unwashed who is overly chipper and excited about her project “They’re postcards, I’m going to send them to people.”

Granddad is in a mild state of disbelief “You mean you’re going to send these cards that no one would ever want to look at to people?”

Unwashed now all but bouncing up and down with enthusiasm “Yes Granddad, but it’s even better, I’m going to write complete nonsense on them before I do so.”

I think sometimes Granddad wishes I had normal hobbies like watching Netflix or at the very least didn’t have the addresses of all of his closest relatives.index

This card could be an excellent advertisement for protective clothing. Clearly the Garden of Eden was a dangerous place for soft fleshy bits. I mean, never mind all of the teeth and jaws that are just on the verge of mowing down on a pudgy muffin top, there are beaks. I don’t know about you but I’ve never seen a chicken with kind eyes. For all we know, it may have been Adam himself who made the first jock strap after a tussle with a rooster.

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This statue pays homage to the lost art of python wresting. There were a couple of die hard fans who tried to save it of course, adding rules to make it safe; only wrestling two pythons at a time, feeding them beforehand, not piping Zydeco into their cages (serpents hate piano accordions). Tragically, it wasn’t enough, the sport died out. Weirdly enough, the idea of clothing or substituting deadly snakes for kittens never occurred to anyone.

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In kitten wrestling everyone wins, because kitten wrestling is actually snuggling. (Photo Credit : pintrest.com)

 

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(Photo Credit : en.wikipedia.org)

It isn’t talked about often but Michelangelo was a huge Spielberg fan. That’s where this painting came from. The old, beardy dude is all “I’m going to go off on my harem of angels now but I will be …right… here”. Said in a warbling, old man, alien voice of course. It’s rarely mentioned in guidebooks but the Sistine chapel totally lights up after dark like some sort of strange, elderly, finger-shaped night light, as an homage to that special extra terrestrial.

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Travesty Tuesdays : The Professional Edition

The problem with being a writer is that people assume you can write. Which I can. Sort of. Actually not really. If you look around WordPress you will realize that I don’t have a Bachelors degree in English and it shows. Also, more often than not, I understand grammar don’t.

This fact doesn’t prevent friends and family from asking me to compose letters and whatnot for them. The most recent request came from my young cousin Candy, who has a stripper name and a heart of gold. Ostensibly a potential employer wants a letter of recommendation. While I am the first person to recommend Candy and her work, I’m not sure I should be the person to do it. Nonetheless I tried.

Dear Super Ballin’ Employer from our Country’s Capital,

What’s up yo? I’m fine, thanks for enquiring. News traveled down the pipeline that your company has a position open. My cousin totally wants it. Like wants it wants it. Like a chubby kid wants cake at fat camp. Only unlike the overly muscular fat camp directors, you should give Candy her heart’s desire. But not the fat kid, give him more time on a treadmill, not the job.

Candy is super awesome amazeballs. Her work ethic is second to none. She would work in her sleep if she could. In addition, Candy is knowledgeable about her field. Or at least I think she is. What she does is very technical so I kind of get lost midway through her explanations but judging by the length of them, I can say the kid knows her stuff.

On top of being really hardworking and educated, Candy is short, this doesn’t sound like a selling point until your company moves or downsizes and you need to stick someone in the tiny corner cubicle. Or if you fly her somewhere and want to use the legroom to transport equipment- not only would Candy be happy to squish herself into a ball to create more space, she wasn’t going to need that legroom to begin with.

So basically Candy is great. You probably shouldn’t even bother interviewing her just call her up and say “Your cousin convinced us, here’s the job and this is the list of benefits we added because you rock”. If you have any further questions don’t call my cell, it has a strange greeting on the voicemail saying you can only leave a message if you are on fire, so I wouldn’t want any of your more literally minded employees receiving burns on my account. You are totally welcome to email me though, but don’t expect me to respond, I’m giving you my professional email which I never check- sarahwritescreativethingshere@gmail.com .

 

Inscrutably yours,

 

The Great Unwashed

 

Message to Candy:

Is this what you meant kiddo when you asked for a letter? I gave it my best college try. I bet for sure you’ll be working and rolling in the sweet sweet cheddar in no time. No one can resist your dynamo combination of personality, brains and work ethic when it’s coupled with my writing.

Your Pregnancy Week By Week: The Second Trimester

Week 11 – Your partner thoughtfully greets you at the door after work with freshly made lamb stew saying “I made you dinner”, presenting a dish that you loved prior to being pregnant. You respond with “No you made YOU dinner that you are going to eat OUTSIDE”. Lamb is off the menu for the next seven months.

Week 12 – Welcome to cravings week at baby making central. Forget gestational diabetes that creates giant sugar babies, after consuming five avocados in the span of a couple of days, your baby is going to be two parts guacamole.

Week 13 – You’ve switched from avocados to eating ten kiwis in a sitting. Your baby is definitely coming out green. And possibly hairy, because who has time to peel sixty kiwis in a week?

Week 14 – Your partner now recognizes your “Puke Face” having seen it so many times in the past weeks. Car rides are peppered with this conversation “Are you ok? You look like you’re going to chuck. You’re not answering, I’m pulling over.”

Week 15 – Consuming an entire bag of movie theatre popcorn yourself (Don’t question it, you’re pregnant) causes your feet to slowly swell up like Jiffy Pop bags until your shoes no longer fit. Good luck walking back home.

Week 16 – Get ready for a big life change, after spending your whole life being cold, thanks to those two extra litres of blood, the need to peel off layers of clothing leads to this ensemble.

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Individually the clothing pieces make sense; UV shirt- smart, bathing suit bottoms at a music festival- smart, compression stockings – necessary to prevent the whole Jiffy Pop feet recurrence, however together with the sunglasses, you resemble a fashion challenged Lady Gaga, or maybe a partial nudist with sun phobia. Regardless, weird looks are both received and deserved.

Week 17 – Remember when you were fit and active? Those words have different meanings now; you once hiked ten kilometers and biked twenty in a day, now after five kilometers of trails you are exhausted and your bike ride is a nap in the car.

Week 18 – Your pants and all of your clothing have suddenly gotten too tight. In the words of your partner “You look like you could be pregnant or you might just have a pooch”. In other news your partner may never get any action again. Especially when he admits that when you are backed up (welcome to your pregnant colon), your abdomen becomes a “double bubble” and at one point pats your tiny fetus reassuringly after you’ve used the bathroom and asks “Are you ok in there? Did the poop baby squish you?”

Week 19 – Your colourful top that makes you appear youthful and outlines your burgeoning belly draws the attention of a group of women lunching. The words “She’s nineteen” are hissed at you while the women’s heads snap trying to maintain a judgmental stare as you walk past. This is made funnier by the fact that you turned thirty this past February.

Week 20 – Essentially you’ve become a celebrity as you puke repeatedly on the grounds of a swanky hotel, only replace cocaine and paparazzi with prenatal vitamins and a Kodak happy mother.

Stay tuned for weeks 21 to 40 and in case you don’t remember weeks one to ten. And who could blame you? I published it months ago! Here’s the link.

https://iamthegreatunwashed.com/2015/11/15/your-pregnancy-week-by-week/

 

 

Now I know it looked like the end of the post back there but I think we all need to take a moment to appreciate the atrocity that is my rendition of myself in Microsoft’s Paint.

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It’s so bad I had to post it a second time.

Initially I was going to post the actual picture but then Tex was all “Would you put that up at work?” to which I replied “You are extremely difficult, unreasonable and unfair when you are right” hence the toddler like drawing.

The hair was easy. Curly hair is curly hair is curly hair; it’s messy and does whatever the hell it wants to, in whatever direction it wants. The hands on the other hand were not as easily replicated. I decided while drawing that I would take a page out of Matt Groening’s book and only give myself three fingers and thumb for simplicity’s sake.

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See? Only four digits. Whoever created humans was clearly an overachiever. (Photo Credit: http://www.simpsoncrazy.com)

But even that proved too tough so my other hand became a skin mitten which sounds super gross but is easy to make on a touch pad. The picture was larger than my mini netbook’s screen so the sign is just hanging out in midair and it’s also the reason why I look like I’m doing some sort of Elvis Presley hip thrust; I was only able to see and thus work on half of the picture at a time.

Initially the lenses of my sunglasses were the same size and shape because I copied and pasted but afterwards I decided they weren’t large enough to deserve the description of Lady Gaga so now they match my wobbly misshapen mouth. Also I realized that the section between my legs didn’t get filled in when I inserted the picture into the post. A more detail oriented person who cared would have changed the image. I didn’t. My final comment and piece of advice is – if you squint and stand really far away, whilst wearing another person’s glasses it might look like a Jackson Pollock.

Travesty Tuesdays On The Road – The Lesbian Arctic Edition

Last year, prior to leaving me for the Arctic without a second thought or one love letter (I wrote her three), I attended a conference with Sula. We went to a banquet together and then spent a weekend roaming about the city having a grand old time. Despite all of my attempts to the contrary, only one person mistook us for a couple: the gangly youth who drove us to the airport and likely spent the rest of the time fantasizing about Sula and me acting out the scene from Scream 4 where all of Hugh Hefner’s girlfriends wake up in bed with Charlie Sheen, only without the tiger blooded madman of course. The following is the last two letters that I wrote to her and her crew ostensibly to lift their spirits and remind them of the horrors of the South: traffic, bathing, more than five people!

Dear Sula,

You’ll want to stay in the Arctic because as soon as you return to the lower ten, I’m going to waste no time in trying to convince everyone we meet that we are a couple just like the guy who drove us to the airport in Winnipeg. The difference is I think the majority of people when they ask us “Did you go on any dates?” won’t be thinking “Oh please let them say “no we just stayed in the hotel room having naked pillow fights and jumping up and down on the bed”.

Also the minute you get back, I will take you shopping (horrors!) and then tell people that I’m pregnant with our love child that we made without the aid of a sperm donor through our devotion for each other, like Immaculate Conception only with more crocheting.

Either that or when I’m asked what I’m having I’ll say “an ostrich probably or maybe one of those warm blooded fish actually not maybe, definitely” think of all the awkwardness you’re avoiding up there. In the Arctic there are no bewildered salespeople only people with tanned faces and hands if everything I’m told is true.

 

Enjoy your time in the sunny North, I’ll be preparing the best way to tell people that we’re having a baby iguana and that you plan to take it on walks with a leash.

So much love,

Unwashed

 

 

Camelia,

You need to stay in the Arctic, it’s a matter of self-preservation or at least that’s what the comic Piled Higher and Deeper tells me. According to them, grad school is terrible and should be avoided at all costs. By Piled Higher and Deeper standards, you are winning the International World Universe Grad School Contest; you are avoiding being in the lab and the grind while looking like you are being hard core and an awesome, amazeballs scientist. (Sorry I know that “amazeballs” isn’t a word but not everyone can win the International World Universe Grad Student Competition.)

Hence you need to stay where you are, based on my limited research which doesn’t include attending grad school; I’ve determined that it’s in your best interest to remain in the Arctic permanently. Don’t worry, Elizabeth will be there with you and you can pretend to be doing important science while reading Diana Gibaldon books for at least three years by my calculations.

Before you call me a crazy person, (which in fairness would be unfair- in all honesty I’m more of a failed scientist/ dirty hippie) listen to my reasoning. Grad school has deadlines whereas the tundra has pretty icebergs. Grad school has stress and supervisors; the Arctic has sweet, sweet solitude. Grad school has papers; the tundra doesn’t even have trees! Where would it get papers?

I believe the correct decision is obvious here, I shall be sending you a care package of overfilled calendars and recordings of colleagues telling boring stories about their pet gerbils in the event that you have a moment of weakness and think of returning home.

Sincerely yours,

Your savior from the perils of academia