Was poking through the BBC "lifestyle" website & saw their "caring for toys" section. And suddenly I got a great idea for a new medical reality show, along the lines of TLC's Trauma: I'm calling it Doll Hospital.
And if it's going to be filmed on location, then it's got to be filmed here at this place in NY. It would make a kick~ass commercial for them, actually, if it was presented utterly seriously as a series of different promotional spots for a new {fictional} show... I'd really like to see somebody do that. In fact, I'd like to see it make Cannes for the best commercials of 2005.
Some suggestions for clips:
~~ a teddy bear being rushed in on a gurney, his button eye dangling from one tenuous thread
~~ stuffies with their stuffing hanging out, or leaking their beans {... need a bean transfusion, 25CCs, stat! and a small bean bag used as an IV bag}
~~ action figures with missing limbs, maybe some severe burns
~~ a doctor talking about the local gang violence {teddy boys vs. babydoll skinheads} and the life expectancy of a doll on the streets
~~ the dolly who's in for cosmetic enhancements {maybe a barbie with magic marker "port wine stains" going in for their removal}
~~ the closing shot of one of the promos might have a nurse coming in to ready a teddy for his sponge bath; and the scene cuts to the window of a side~loaded washing machine full of stuffies, and a glimpse of a forlorn teddybear face momentarily pressed nose to glass before being whisked off into the spin...
Now, if this were a spoof on "trauma" type shows {and not a commercial for the NYC doll hospital} then I can imagine the kids in the waiting room being interviewed, and the question being asked, did you ever think that your dolly might die? and the poor kid bursting into tears...
Who knows, maybe NYers would be jaded enough to accept that last one in a commercial, so long as it was clear it's TV being mocked and not the feelings of little children...
Life is gritty & tough for NYers; why not for their dolls, too?
Make mine a Zombie. With a Bloody Brains chaser.
I have the encephalovorous Munin to thank for this. Sorry I left her wanting more...
Okay, seriously now: a Zombie, with a Bloody Brains chaser.
Oh, and hey ~ can you make that Zombie a Canadian?
Non~figment~o~graphic.
I have no freakin' clue what it means. But at least I'm out of the P's.
AGAIN with "taking the bridge"?
The question is... is this the same bridge as this?
I think it is, though they seemed careful not to repeat any of the information using the same words.
So, not only are they recycling steel, but they're recycling news as well...
Oh dear, my freudian slip is showing...
Y'know... sometimes I post 'cause there's some comment I want to make... and then sometimes I post 'cause I need to divert attention away from the last comment I made.
'Cause sometimes the last comment I've made is, even by my standards, particularly dull/lame/insensitive; or even worse ~ inadvertently psychologically revealing.
So. I've looked back on my previous posts and realized...
... that I have posted on:
1} Animal genitalia
2} A subconscious obsession with words beginning with the letter P
3} Babies
4} Phalli
5} The oral physicality of words {lips, tongues, and a voiceless bilabial plosive}
6} Female passivity
7} Vicarious thrills
8} My pelvic region
9} Unfulfilled buns
10} Horseflesh
That is... uh... ahem... deeply, deeply disturbing...
My Superego says, I should seek professional help ... And my Id says, ...professional in what sense? And my Ego says, the hell with it; you two fight it out, just send me the bill for the damages...
Trophy wives, trophy pets.
Now pets really can look like their owners.
Can you imagine a wrinkle~free Shar~Pei? And just think of all those poor french poodles with the crazy poofy haircuts & dye jobs... I bet now they'll have to suffer poofy pouty lips, too. I can't stop picturing some poor little tote~bag puppy done up to look like its owner, and the two of them looking very much like a 1950's mother and daughter team in matching outfits ~ right down to their surgical enhancements.
What this will mean for Dog Show judging, I don't know... but if it can happen to cows, then what could we expect for dogs? Perhaps they'll have to put more emphasis on the talent aspect of the competition. For the dogs, I mean. Not the cows...
~ ~ ~
My goodness, Mabel; how is it that your Russian Blue looks so serene and unruffled?
Botox injections, my dear. Worked wonders for the Siamese fighting fish as well. Comes in this handy~dandy home injection kit. I've had a devil of a time keeping it out of the hands of the children, though; they think it's hysterically funny to dart the neighbour's parrots. And it's so hard to tell them "no" when they look up at me with those big pleading eyes, holding the blowguns they made in summer camp... You know, I blame the National Geographic channel for putting such silly ideas into their heads; I am tempted to write that magazine a very, very stern letter...
This morning, it was "pig midden".
Not pack~rat midden, as one might have expected, but pig midden.
Maybe deep down inside I really want to be a Morris Dancer...
Found out that Ikea is now offering green~bee~embroidered cushions & curtains.
I'd be so tempted to use them, and this, to decorate a nursery... just to be able to make bad puns about nappies.
~ ~ ~
* "Bumbles" was actually Josephine's pet name for Nappy, which some historians cite as the real cause of their divorce. Not a lot of people know that...
I can see it now: "I fondled The Mad Monk's Monkey, and all I got was this lousy T~shirt"...
Further to this post...
Hmmm.... not quite rubbing Buddha's belly for luck, is it?
Then again, I don't ever recall having seen an "anatomically correct" Buddha... but perhaps that only goes to show what a sheltered life I've led.
I envy people who have the ability to pluck the right word when they need it and place it neatly in a sentence where they need it, just so.
For me, it's like the language center of my brain is actually this little man with whom I have to play charades... okay, there's a word I want... it sounds like... first letter is... how many syllables? ... rhymes with... okay, it's got a certain letter in it... or, it ends with... it means something to the effect of...
And yet... when I wake up in the morning, there's quite often a ghost of a word on my lips... as if my subconscious has a Word~Of~The~Day feature.
Evidently my muse works best in the mornings.
The night before last, I woke up in the middle of the night unable to sleep; there was a word in my head, and the word was palimpsest. So there I was, looking up the word palimpsest in the dictionary at 3AM. Yup. Palimpsest.
This morning, the word was peripatetic. Looking it up nearly made me late for work.
If that wasn't peculiar enough, the even funnier thing is that I seem to be working my way through the P's, in no particular order.
When I first posted about this, the word was plimsoll. And pulegone. Since then I've had passerine, pissenlit, and the Peaceable Kingdom. And Noilly Prat. A week or so ago, I think the word may have been passe partout, or maybe even pousse~pierre, but I didn't make a note of it, and now I can't remember for sure.
Perhaps my subconscious is trying to tell me I'm really P~celtic, rather than Q~celtic...
Was watching the Daily Show last night; the celeb being interviewed was talking about her campaign work.
She said something to the effect that it was a shame many eligible voters don't take advantage of their right to vote; and the biggest group of people who don't vote, she said, are young women.
{Whether this was due to a lack of meaningful choices for politically conscious women or just yer plain garden~variety political apathy she didn't pursue; she only said she thought voting would have to be "sexed~up" to make it more appealing to the younger audience.}
And I thought, wow... not less than a hundred years ago, women suffered violent force~feeding during their prison hunger strikes for the sake of being recognized as persons with the right to vote.
All those men who argued so vehemently against it, if only they could have known; they would have chuckled quietly amongst themselves and said to each other, with a nod and a wink, ahhh, let's just give 'em the right to vote. What does it matter? You and I know they'll never bother; they're simply too passive by nature to really be effective.
Who knows? Perhaps, even without the benefit of foresight, perhaps they really did say things like that.
