The internet here at home wasn’t working for a couple of days and I couldn’t access my email or update Charley or anything. I didn’t really mind cause yesterday I bought the Sims 3 and was mindlessly playing it, thoroughly enjoying myself. I like the improvements they made — though the graphics don’t seem to be much different. Anyway, the internet has resumed service and tomorrow, knock on wood, Charley shall resume normal programming.
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The Charley Project Blog 
Believe me you were missed.
I personally champed through three bits. And Aimee kept rearing up and kicking the barn door down.
Yes, I was an impatient young filly, raring to go.
HOwever, if Big Cavemanthony hadn’t already busted u the barn door with a sledgehammer while hallucinating being attacked by a honking Nancy Grace with a lime Jell-o mold, that door wouldn’t have given way as badly as it did.
And in that utter delirium, Nancy used the term “tot mom” once too often, the sledgehammer was suddenly at hand, and, the next thing I knew, my stablemate Aimee was entered in Saturday’s one-hundred-and-forty-first running of the Belmont Stakes, in Elmont NY, as the 7.5 favorite.
But Farmer Jones did give me a new bit to champ.
And Aimee’s winnings allowed her to quietly settle with teh badly injured and befouled Nancy in order to avoid a lawsuit. You know how Nancy can be when things don’t go her way.
Meanwhile,t he lime Jell-o mold was happily but furtively consumed by those darling moppets named… ummm don’t tell me… Mary something and Ashlynn? Ashley?
LOL. I believe I have bruised myself laughing at the so-apt image of a “befouled” Nancy Grace.
I love the word befouled. Almost as much as I love the word besmirched. And bedazzled and bedecked and beheaded.
What? Who ARE you people? You never fail to crack me up.
We’re that couple in the Grant Wood painting “American Gothic,” except that we’ve been into the psychedelic mushrooms once too often.
Wasn’t the American Gothic couple pretty old? I mean, I’m not oversensitive or anything, bt I was thinking more along the lines of Sonny and Cher or Abbott and Costello or even Ernie and Bert.
“Bedazzled” is definitely a fave of mine too.
Yes, the couple were a bit long in the tooth, even after the ‘shrooms. How about Laurence Olivier and Vivian Leigh, back in their heyday as a couple?
It looks like Cheryl’s complimented us again, then fled to contact the authorities once more.
Larry was cool. Vivien was, not to put too fine a point on it, batty. But then, so am I, right?
Vi was also, not to put too fine a point on it, drop-dead gorgeous and a rare talent. And she wasn’t as bonkers as either Scott Fitzgerald’s wife Zelda or T.S. Eliot’s first wife, whose name was also—though I see I spelled Ms. Leigh’s wrong—Vivian.
Or we could be thought of, to jump forward twenty years from that star-crossed couple, as Serge Gainsbourg and (your choice here; either…) Bridget Bardot or Jane Birkin.
ANYTHING except Sonny & Cher, as then I’d be thought of as a gnarly little fellow and also (much worse!) a Republican!
Well, I barely have any idea who Serge Gainbourg is, except i understand he wrote a very suggestive song about lollipops for a very youn girl to sing.
I wouldn’t know Jane Birkin if I fell over her in the night.
But Brigitte Bardot… now there’s a possibility. Although I have heard that she is kind of the French version of a Republican.
Zelda is the perfect name for somebody who is bonkers. It just fits a bonkers person.
Serge Gainsbourg–il est magnifique! Well, magnifique in the sense that, yes, he did write a song called “Lemon Incest” and sang it with his daughter Charlotte; and, true, there was “Les Sucettes,” the lollipop number sung by the teen girl. And, yes, BB is something of a racist swine these days, an aging French Ann Coulter, some would say.
Details, details. You’re just trying to back me into the corner where I’ll have to say yes to being thought of as Sonny!
Well, you don’t HAVE to be Sonny. I suppose if you really were averse to beign Sonny you could be Cher’s other perofmring hubby, Gregg. I mean, he could sing better than Sonny and I’m told his hair was much nicer…
Wow, that makes Sonny look good; ol’ Gregg’s mouth looked like a catfish’s, and he seemed forever to be passing out in his plate of spaghetti due to certain nefarious substances.
“Thanks!”
Aha! At last I fathom why you’re determined on being Cher—it’s so you can sing her hit, “Gypsies Tramps and Thieves”!
Yeah, but significantly, Gregg is still alive while Sonny, after a fatal overdose of tree, is no longer with us. And I hear Gregg’s looking a lot healthier these days.
But another option: Cher also dated Gene Simmons. You could be him, even though he has an annoying accent and a terrible ego and all his name should be Gene $immon$ and his wretched badn should be Ki$$
And that tongue!
And yes, I was thinking I would enjoy singing that little ditty. But if it isn’t to your liking, I could also sing “Just like Jesse James” a favorite of mine. And I can wear little spangly things (very little) and have my hair long (have to dye it though) and be very sassy with just a touch of class.
I’ll pass on Gene, too. And yes, Cher did have a certain je ne sais quoi. Well, she wasn’t bad in ‘Silkwood,’ I’ll give her that much.
Or would you like to be Jessica and Roger Rabbit? That way I still get to sing (“Why don’t you do right? Like some other men do?”) and I can wear glamorous clothes and have a big rack… AND my hair naturally falls over the side of my face!
Come on, Anthony, let’s you and me have some fun!
I admit to being far more a Roger Rabbit than a Sonny Bono, a Gregg Allman, or a Gene Simmons; I admit it freely and openly. However, I believe a star of that movie, Bob Hoskins, might be more to my liking, particularly if paired with Helen Mirren as in the great film “The Long Good Friday,” in which Helen, as Victoria, Bob/”Harold Shand”‘s main squeeze, is sexy beyond BELIEF.
Yes, so you’re Helen Mirren in that film, I’m Bob. It’s settled. Roll ’em!
*sulk, pout* I never even heard of that movie. *stamps off in snit*
Oh, okay, Jessica, come back, come back. A well-racked redhead is a wonderful thing as well.
*smiles broadly* and Jessica always knows how to get a man to give her what she really wants.
*straps on rack, dyes hair* “Get out of here and get me some money toooo!”
Before we leave Helen in LGF, though, here’s her elevator scene with some not-Bob-Hoskins guy, who expresses my sentiments exactly in re: Helen in LGF:
I’m not sure, did you mean to provide a link to the scene or what? Because I haven’t the faintest.
Yes, thought I did! Perhaps, since you’re writing from the future, YouTube doesn’t exist anymore. I can see it here on my page though, though this may indicate that Alzheimer’s has made inroads into my old self’s brain area. “Oh well.” If you type in Helen Mirren in The Long Good Friday on YT, it’s entirely possible you can see it too. (Two people, on a lift, some creepy guy [me] and the wondrously h-o-t Helen [you, when you’re not in your Jessica Rabbit drag]).
Well thanks, I’m flattered!
I googled the thing on youtube and that’s how I got to see it.
Work on your “Helen Mirren in LGF” look. Acquire a British accent. Prepare for the ground you walk upon to be worshipped!
Why, Ant’ony, you rotter, you! What utter cheek! I shall summon the constaable straight away!
On second thought, you’re the big Anglophile, you would be better at it than me.
LOL. Love the word “rotter” (though not necessarily applied to me!).
“Cor blimey, Helen, ye’ve got me bang to rights yer ‘ave.”
I’m just now beginning to fully appreciate why we fought so hard for independence from a people that talks that way. It’s nice to ahve the freedom to say things like “LIke, totally, fer sherr!” and “Yoobetchah!” and “You talkinnamee, Mack?” and “Well, dagnabbit!”
Bollocks! Bugger all, now oi’ve ‘eard it all I ‘ave. It’s naff nonsense yer a-talkin’. Wot sort of bloody wanker put that in yer ‘ead? Sod off is wot I’d tell ’em, sod off yer cheeky mingers, quit takin’ the piss, it’s codswallop’s all it is an’ Bob’s yer uncle.
roflmao! I always loved “Bob’s yer uncle.”
A longtime fave of mine too, though I worked it in a bit awkwardly.
All things considered, even though my line of the family’s been over here since 1689, my heart still dwells across The Great Pond, somewhere near the Welsh border.
Wow, you still haven’t answered my question? Are you MK and Ash? hee hee…..sorry, couldn’t help myself.
We are Zelda and Scott Fitzgerald, madam, and MK and Ash are our HELL MAIDENS, foresworn to do our bidding!
Yes! *snaps fingers* Ashley, you lazy strumpet! Peel me a grape and be quick about it! Mary-Kate, didn’t you hear your master TWICE call for a cup of hot teat? Now get a move on or I’ll box your ears, the pair of you!
“Oi, you barmy bag of shite, bejeez, carn’t you ‘ear the woman? Get ‘er ‘er tea, you tiny hell-boffin!”