I’ve received some really lovely feedback about the Daily Boop and I just want to say thanks for the support… it’s nice to know that’s it appreciated.
If you’ve tried to leave a comment but found you couldn’t, the problem has now been fixed and I promise I’ll never fiddle with the settings again!
31 October 2008
Up yours, Mr Kearney!
(Please note, the following material contains language some people may find offensive.)
When I was in grade eight, Mr Kearney, my devilishly handsome English teacher, asked if he could read the poems I had been writing and had collected in a notebook.
All the cool girls at school thought Mr Kearney was the bee’s knees (and I think he did too) but he was much too smooth and pretty for my liking. That was until he asked to read my poems. Suddenly I was completely captivated and infatuated. I tidied up my notebook and presented it to him after class one day.
It was months before he returned my little book and by then I was in loathing with him again. And when I opened it up, I discovered he had gone through with a red pen like he would my school work, ‘correcting’ the poems I had written from my dark but girlish heart. I was crushed.
It’s been years since I thought of that cad Kearney, but he came to mind tonight as I was writing this blog. Y’see, I thought I’d post a poem I wrote for my 21st birthday and as I was keying it in, I found myself tidying things up, replacing words here and there and restructuring an entire verse. And then I thought of him.
If I had have known on the 8th of November 1990, that eighteen years later I would be ‘correcting’ this poem, I think I would have shut my notebook then and there and never written another word.
So here it is… my poem, ‘Revealed’ as written by me on the 8th of November 1990.
All kids ask their parents about stuff they want to know
but I’ll never forget when I asked my mum a couple of years ago
about her and Dad in their courting days, the mood changed in a helluva hurry
there was something she was gonna tell me and I began to worry
She looked at me with this deathly look upon her face
and I’ll never forget the day my mother fell from grace
“What’s up mum? Did I say something that might be wrong?”
She sighed, “Ya father’s not your daddy love, ya daddy was a bong
“It goes back many years when he’d deliver the milk
I’d wait in the moonlit night in my negligee made of silk
Yes, those were the days when I was young and wild and free
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this it was just too dark to see"
Well the years went by, I was out one day and well, you’d never guess
I found him in the handouts queue at the local CES
I rubbed my eyes and looked again, gosh he looked a wreck
With gum leaves over his private parts and bottle tops 'round his neck
I never will forget that day for as long as I shall live
And my poor long suffering mother I was quick to forgive
But forget I won’t; in no hurry will this one be forgot
But I asked, "When’d you two get married mum?" She said, "We did not!”
“Well what about the wedding photos with you in all your glory?”
She looked at me, winked and smiled, “Well, that’s another story”.
When I was in grade eight, Mr Kearney, my devilishly handsome English teacher, asked if he could read the poems I had been writing and had collected in a notebook.
All the cool girls at school thought Mr Kearney was the bee’s knees (and I think he did too) but he was much too smooth and pretty for my liking. That was until he asked to read my poems. Suddenly I was completely captivated and infatuated. I tidied up my notebook and presented it to him after class one day.
It was months before he returned my little book and by then I was in loathing with him again. And when I opened it up, I discovered he had gone through with a red pen like he would my school work, ‘correcting’ the poems I had written from my dark but girlish heart. I was crushed.
It’s been years since I thought of that cad Kearney, but he came to mind tonight as I was writing this blog. Y’see, I thought I’d post a poem I wrote for my 21st birthday and as I was keying it in, I found myself tidying things up, replacing words here and there and restructuring an entire verse. And then I thought of him.
If I had have known on the 8th of November 1990, that eighteen years later I would be ‘correcting’ this poem, I think I would have shut my notebook then and there and never written another word.
So here it is… my poem, ‘Revealed’ as written by me on the 8th of November 1990.
All kids ask their parents about stuff they want to know
but I’ll never forget when I asked my mum a couple of years ago
about her and Dad in their courting days, the mood changed in a helluva hurry
there was something she was gonna tell me and I began to worry
She looked at me with this deathly look upon her face
and I’ll never forget the day my mother fell from grace
“What’s up mum? Did I say something that might be wrong?”
She sighed, “Ya father’s not your daddy love, ya daddy was a bong
“It goes back many years when he’d deliver the milk
I’d wait in the moonlit night in my negligee made of silk
Yes, those were the days when I was young and wild and free
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this it was just too dark to see"
Well the years went by, I was out one day and well, you’d never guess
I found him in the handouts queue at the local CES
I rubbed my eyes and looked again, gosh he looked a wreck
With gum leaves over his private parts and bottle tops 'round his neck
I never will forget that day for as long as I shall live
And my poor long suffering mother I was quick to forgive
But forget I won’t; in no hurry will this one be forgot
But I asked, "When’d you two get married mum?" She said, "We did not!”
“Well what about the wedding photos with you in all your glory?”
She looked at me, winked and smiled, “Well, that’s another story”.
28 October 2008
Saved by St Peter
Just one day into the Daily Boop I can’t help but wonder if I’ve bitten of more than I can chew.
I’d never intended to call it ‘the Daily Boop’ but when I discovered ‘Wordy Girl’ was taken, I went with the first thing that came into my head. A smarter girl would have gone with something like ‘the Weekly Boop’ so as not to set expectations too high; or even ‘Boop, Once in a While’, but not being able to punctuate the URL would have driven me nuts.
So at the risk of becoming nothing more than a misleading headline, the Daily Boop musters everything she has at this ungodly hour and brings you the funniest joke EVER!
The Daily Boop advises that the following joke contains references to nuns and penises.
Four nuns die and go to heaven and as they arrive at the pearly gates, St Peter steps out and summons the first nun. He says, ‘Welcome to Heaven, child… before you pass through the pearly gates, I must ask you a question: have you ever touched a penis?’
The nun blushed and said, ‘Oh St Peter, I cannot tell a lie… I once touched one with the tip of my finger.’
‘Well,’ said St Peter lovingly, ‘just put your finger in the holy water and then you can pass on through the pearly gates.’
Relieved, she dipped her finger in the holy water and scurried through the gates and into Heaven.
Then St Peter summoned the second nun and again he said, ‘Welcome to Heaven, child… before you pass through the pearly gates, I must ask you a question: have you ever touched a penis?’
The nun giggled and said sheepishly, ‘Oh St Peter, I cannot tell a lie… I once held one in the palm of my hand.’ St Peter smiled gently and said, ‘Just put your hand in the holy water and then you can pass on through the pearly gates.’
Then St Peter summoned the third nun and said, ‘Welcome to Heaven, child… before you pass through the pearly gates, I must ask you a question: have you ever touched a penis?’ At which point the fourth nun burst forward and screamed, ‘If you think I’m gonna gargle that after she’s had her butt in it, you can forget it!'
I’d never intended to call it ‘the Daily Boop’ but when I discovered ‘Wordy Girl’ was taken, I went with the first thing that came into my head. A smarter girl would have gone with something like ‘the Weekly Boop’ so as not to set expectations too high; or even ‘Boop, Once in a While’, but not being able to punctuate the URL would have driven me nuts.
So at the risk of becoming nothing more than a misleading headline, the Daily Boop musters everything she has at this ungodly hour and brings you the funniest joke EVER!
The Daily Boop advises that the following joke contains references to nuns and penises.
Four nuns die and go to heaven and as they arrive at the pearly gates, St Peter steps out and summons the first nun. He says, ‘Welcome to Heaven, child… before you pass through the pearly gates, I must ask you a question: have you ever touched a penis?’
The nun blushed and said, ‘Oh St Peter, I cannot tell a lie… I once touched one with the tip of my finger.’
‘Well,’ said St Peter lovingly, ‘just put your finger in the holy water and then you can pass on through the pearly gates.’
Relieved, she dipped her finger in the holy water and scurried through the gates and into Heaven.
Then St Peter summoned the second nun and again he said, ‘Welcome to Heaven, child… before you pass through the pearly gates, I must ask you a question: have you ever touched a penis?’
The nun giggled and said sheepishly, ‘Oh St Peter, I cannot tell a lie… I once held one in the palm of my hand.’ St Peter smiled gently and said, ‘Just put your hand in the holy water and then you can pass on through the pearly gates.’
Then St Peter summoned the third nun and said, ‘Welcome to Heaven, child… before you pass through the pearly gates, I must ask you a question: have you ever touched a penis?’ At which point the fourth nun burst forward and screamed, ‘If you think I’m gonna gargle that after she’s had her butt in it, you can forget it!'
27 October 2008
Blogging not jogging
I should be on my way home now for a brisk walk but I'm having too much fun... sort of. This is my first blog and I can't help but wonder if I have what it takes to be a consistent poster. Only one way to find out...
My name's Tracey but almost everyone who matters calls me Boop. Not boo, not boob, Boop. I write for a living and while I used to regularly write for my own pleasure, I haven't done it for years. And that's what the Daily Boop's about... me getting back into the swing of writing about the things that make me happy. If what I write makes you happy too, then I'll be doubly thrilled I started the Daily Boop.
Yay!
My name's Tracey but almost everyone who matters calls me Boop. Not boo, not boob, Boop. I write for a living and while I used to regularly write for my own pleasure, I haven't done it for years. And that's what the Daily Boop's about... me getting back into the swing of writing about the things that make me happy. If what I write makes you happy too, then I'll be doubly thrilled I started the Daily Boop.
Yay!
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