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You Are So Beetle-ful, To Me!

On December 29, 2010, in Christmas, Family, by Rosie
8

Or: How To Say ‘I Love You’ With an Exoskeleton


When you’re in a long-term relationship, sometimes you just need to crawl out of your shell, have your antennae out for just the right gift and scuttle about the shopping hive of activity to snare the present for your beloved.

This Christmas, Mac stung me with such a surprise!

Being a Britch (a combination of Grinch and Beyotch) during The Season, I’m sometimes heard to say ‘yeah, I don’t like Christmas much, don’t worry too much about a present, k’.  When you know a person well, this is Grump-Speak for ‘I’m in a pre-Christmas mood, don’t even look at me, I’m too busy, but don’t even think about not getting me a gift!  Got it!?’

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The Nudie Run

On December 24, 2010, in Christmas, Poetry, Writing, by Rosie
4

The Britch has had second wind (which is not as gross as it sounds).  I guess she remembered the great things about Christmas, like kids, family, food, family that don’t really care too much about presents … and food.

In accordance with The Britch’s bipolar attitude towards Christmas (aka, Footsmas) a poem of lightness.  May the spirit of Christmas be yours (even if you don’t celebrate) — wishing you joy, the love of giving, the wonder of sharing, the awe-inspiring feeling of being included and loved despite your foibles, the good fortune to have enough food, drink and shelter to ensure your comfort on the day.  If that isn’t something to celebrate, don’t know what is.

Merry Christmas, friends, readers, passers-by that click on while looking for the hot babe Rosie Jones.  This is for you:

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The Mercettes

On December 20, 2010, in Cars, News, by Rosie
4

This series of posts are based on fact.  Names have been changed to protect the innocent, to preserve a world where wankers are entitled to their anonymity as well.  It all started with a brand:

It all ends with the creation of two Quasi-Mercettes (Mercedes owners, who are only semi-classy) and a thousand tales of mirth and mayhem.

Recently, Dave turned 60.

It felt like only yesterday when he’d owned a 70s Ford Falcon GT, complete with rust, beer cans inside, chipped duco.  It was, in fact, 1976 and the GT was a chick magnet.

Along with his porn-film moustache, his long sideburns, his devilish flares, Dave was set to ensure that all parents of that era LOCKED their daughters up.

Now, he locks his own daughters out.

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