What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
What's in the gallery?
We dissolve stuck and rewrite patterns. We apply radical playfulness to life (when we feel like it!), embarking on internal adventures (credo of Safety First). We have a fake band called Solved By Cake. We build invisible sanctuaries, invent words and worlds, breathe awe and wonder.
We are not impressed by monsters. Except when we are. We explore the connections between internal territories and surrounding environment to learn what marvelously supportive delicious space feels like, and how to take exquisite care of ourselves. We transform things.* We glow wild.**
* For example: Desire, fear, worry, pain-and-trauma, boundaries, that problematic word which rhymes with flaweductivity.
** Fair warning: Self-fluency has been known to lead to extremely subversive behavior, including treasuring yourself unconditionally, unapologetically taking up space, experiencing outrageously improbable levels of self-acceptance, and general rejoicing in aliveness.
Ask Havi #22: The Anti-Strategy Strategy
Note: it is almost impossible to get on the Ask Havi list. This person got in by a. being one of my clients or students, b. flattering the hell out of my duck, and c. making life easy on me by being clear about what the question was and what details I could use.
During yesterday’s (crazy-fun) Strategy of Not Being Strategic call with Pistachio, there were some fantastic questions.
And because we were answering a gazillion questions a second (the official stats aren’t in yet, but that’s what it felt like), a couple of those questions are still lingering in my mind. Three, actually.
Lingering because they need more attention.
This stuff relates to a lot of what we talk about here when we talk about vulnerability and serving your Right People and not hiding from the people who need you.
Even if you’re not a Twitterite yet. Even if you’re not hanging out with me at the world’s greatest bar/cafe yet.
It’s relevant.
FYI: You can also read the search results for the hashtag #NotStrategy to follow some of what we were talking about, as well as some of the related conversations that emerged between the smart, fun, interesting people in the class.
“How do you reach the people who don’t know they need your message?”
Background: I was talking about Michael Port’s concept of the red velvet rope (anything that draws your Right People in and keeps out the people you don’t want to connect to).
For example, my duck Selma is a very useful red velvet rope.
So Lisa Scheff (who is a lovely person and is @doorsopen on Twitter) wanted to know how this could work if the people you want to talk to aren’t necessarily open to or interested in your message.
“I am not selling a service or a project. My project is about opening hearts and minds to same sex marriage. If I am “selling” anything it is compassion and change of heart.
It seems as though my right people are the ones who disagree with me. So I don’t really want a red velvet rope, do I? I want the people who *are* resistant to what I am selling reading me.
Can I use Twitter to connect to my readers? Or maybe I should just be using it to connect with allies and find other ways to connect with my target audience… thoughts?”
My thoughts on this.
1. You’re right. It’s a problem.
The people whose hearts you want to change are — in most cases — not going to be the ones who will be following you and interacting with you on Twitter.
Twitter is a place people go to hang out, to learn, to connect, to network or to goof off completely (if you’re me). Lot of ways to use it.
As a general rule though, most people aren’t going to be looking for something to change their minds. Most people don’t show up (to anything, really) wondering “what’s going to alter my preconceived notions of the world today?”
(And if you are that curious, open sort of person, you’re probably not going to be especially challenged by the concept of equal marriage rights).
2. Here’s who is going to be following you and connecting with you on Twitter.
Activists, advocates, people who are pro-change, the gigantic and ever-changing undefinable queer community.
And, of course, gay couples whose cause and hearts you are championing. Which reminds me …
3. I think you might want to redefine who your Right People are.
The people whose hearts you want to touch so they can open up to same sex marriage are your indirect right people. Your down-the-road right people.
In the meantime, your actual right people need you. Now.
Your actual right people are the ones you care about the most. And the ones who need your love and support the most. The ones who inspired this project to begin with.
The ones who are ready right this second to join your tribe and spread the word and be excited about your mission because you’re excited about theirs.
And they’re the ones you’re already talking to (and with and about). You’re sharing their stories and bringing their light to the world. It’s big stuff.
4. You always want a red velvet rope.
Ideally, several.
5. That’s because the charm of the red velvet rope is it creates a certain sexiness.
Hard to get is a good thing.
Your message will not be accessible to all people at all times.
But that’s part of what will create buzz and excitement around it.
The people who are ready for your message will be talking about it and planting it and living it.
Which is the sort of thing that brings it attention and press (I have no idea how I would have ended up in the New York Times without Twitter) and love.
And eventually, the people who need to hear you the most won’t be able to avoid you.
In the meantime, preaching to the choir is not a meaningless service. The choir needs you to remind them about why they were so inspired about the message to begin with.
“What if my thing isn’t ready yet?”
For example, what if you’re Jason Lay (the wonderful @metanoid) who hasn’t launched his business yet?
He wanted to know if he should be connecting with people on Twitter before he had something worth promoting … and is this a useful, relevant thing to be doing with his time?
(If you’re not following Jason yet, let me mention that he has argyle robots on his page and his battlecry is “Give me whimsy, or give me death!” This guy is going to do great things in the world, clearly.)
My thoughts on this.
1. Hell yeah!
See above.
2. Here’s a story.
When my brother was getting ready to think about starting his business, I told him that I wouldn’t help him until he got on Twitter.
Between me and my gentleman friend, we knew we could hook him up with a gorgeous website, decent copy (still in the works) and everything else he needed.
But none of that matters without a bunch of fun, goofy, interesting people who are genuinely excited about you and want to know more about what you do, whatever it is.
So I forced um, encouraged him to start hanging out and being his nutty, kooky, unpredictable self. No business. Just fun.
And now he has four hundred people who adore him. When he officially launches his products, that’s four hundred people who are going to be recommending him to his right clients. Because why wouldn’t they?
3. Here’s another story.
I didn’t have a blog until after Twitter.
The Fluent Self website will be four years old this August (shakes head) but the blog is a little less than a year old.
It wasn’t until my Twitter friends started complaining that they wanted to share the genius bits in my noozletters with all their friends that I realized it was stupid to keep my content available only to subscribers. Twitter made me create this space.
And I could not be more grateful for that.
“What if I don’t know what my thing is yet?”
We all wonder about that. Seriously.
I still haven’t found my thing. I’ve just stopped worrying about it.
My thoughts on this.
1. Your thing is the beautiful quality that’s in your heart.
It doesn’t matter what form that takes. Or if the form keeps changing.
That quality will infuse every single thing you do. And the people who need that quality will flock to you.
If you’re having trouble getting in touch with all this heart stuff, I highly recommend Mark Silver‘s book and Hiro Boga‘s work.
2. We care about you. So it doesn’t matter that much what your thing ends up being.
If I love hanging out with you on Twitter, that’s enough. You’re a fellow helper mouse, right? It will be fine.
I’ll be there while you’re figuring it out. I’ll help you promote it when it has a form. I’ll connect you with people I think you’d enjoy.
3. You are a complex, multi-faceted person. That’s what keeps things interesting.
The nice thing about Twitter is that — unlike a networking meeting or a brochure or anything else that demands that you actually know what you do — it’s about people.
And there’s room there to share many, many, many aspects of people’s own unique selves.
On Twitter I’m not an expert being all expert-ey. I’m @havi. I’m someone who makes ridiculous puns. I’m someone who gets belligerent at Roller Derby. I’m someone who bakes bread and dances barefoot and makes fun of things.
So show up with all of you (or as much of you as feels comfortable) and just see what happens. I bet it will be pretty freaking magical.
That’s all for now.
Hope it was helpful. Mad love to all of you.
Before I die maybe I’ll get better at making lists.
Pre-post disclaimer about my tongue: it is spending some time in my cheek today.
So I tried to make a list of one hundred things I want to do before I die.
Because I read about it in a book that I absolutely love. I’ve read it three times.
And — like with all useful books that are full of cool exercises that I haven’t done yet (but want to!) — I started with the one that seemed like it might be easier than the rest of them.
Except that it’s either the hardest exercise in the world or I am an utter mess. Suspecting a combination of both at the moment.
Because I was completely unable to come up with one hundred things.
In fact, it was more like a grand total of fourteen.
And that was after two hours of staring at the page and trying to think of anything that would be remotely worthy of a go-ahead-and-do-it-while-you’re-still-on-this-planet list.
I don’t know if this is a good thing or a terrible thing.
Argument for how only being able to come up with fourteen things to do before I die is somehow a good thing:
Maybe it just means that I’ve already done a lot of the crazy foolhardy ridiculous adventurous things that most people don’t ever do even though they secretly want to.
Like moving to Berlin from Tel Aviv without any real reason other than that I needed to.
Like starting a business with 20 euros.
Like leaving Germany and heading out to San Francisco on the basis of a dream. And not the “I have a dream” kind of dream. The “I fell asleep and my dream told me I needed to be in San Francisco” kind of dream.
Maybe the reason I can’t come up with more things is that I already have a habit of actively taking off in pursuit of the stuff I want to experience.
But actually I suspect it is a terrible thing.
That might be my monster talking, yes.
(Of course, if “everything against me is an illusion“, the depressing, horrible things I tell myself are probably not true.)
But since I’m letting you in on what’s going on in my head, let me just put it out there.
It seems far, far more likely to me in this moment that I am completely unimaginative and also devoid of all creative impulse. Where is my enthusiasm? WHERE? I have no idea.
I honestly don’t know how it’s even possible that I only have fourteen things I want to accomplish.
Then to make matters worse, most of them are completely boring things to strive for.
And a lot of them except for #10 and #12 are (clarification: for me specifically, at this particular point in my life, no one’s list is ever the same) almost embarrassingly achievable.
Which means my list might actually start shrinking soon, bringing me closer to death and to the fact that I am still lacking in both drive and imagination.
I should also note that my father refuses to read Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain because he vaguely hopes to read all of it before he dies and he is convinced that the sooner he finishes it, the sooner he will die.
But back to my list.
Update:
Okay, I just thought of another one, but #15 is also stupid.
Also, it only occurred to me because I was taking out the recycling while trying to think of more things to put on this list and I got first distracted by the fact that there are always hot people on the cover of Inc. Magazine and then annoyed by the fact that I’m not on there.
Also, I need to note that while coming up with this post, I also had a nice Freudian typo with the word unimaginitiative.
Which really needs to become a real word. Leave your (creative) definitions in the comments and they will distract me from feeling (pun totally intended) listless.
Here is my list.
- Publish a book.
- Publish another book.
- Visit Paris with my gentleman friend.
- Own an apartment in Berlin.
- Teach Shiva Nata at the Midwest Yoga Conference (with my duck, of course), then get invited to teach it at the San Francisco Yoga Journal Conference and then turn them down.
- Learn Italian.
- Live in the same city as my best friend again.
- Climb an orange tree again.
- Learn swing dancing.
- Learn how to skate backwards (!)
- Go on sabbatical.
- Do the splits.
- Meet Suzette Haden Elgin and be a googly-eyed fangirl.
- Take a long-term yoga training with Paul Grilley of Non-Sucky Yoga fame.
- Be on the cover of Inc Magazine before a) it folds and/or b) everyone realizes that they only put hot people on the cover so it doesn’t even mean you’re necessarily that good at business or anything, just that you’re hot and have a decent publicist or know how to pitch a story.
- Ummm …
So I’m still working on it.
Item! It’s not even slightly Wednesday!
A somewhat goofy mini-collection of stuff I’ve been reading, stuff I’ve been thinking about and oh, some completely random crap.
Basically the stuff that never gets mentioned here because I’m not the kind of person who can just make some teeny little point. Not into the whole brevity thing, as the Dude would say.
Actually, I’m under the strict compulsion to write ten pages about anything on my mind. So this is me. Practicing brevity.
Still feeling like dirt.
So I used magic wishful thinking to make today Wednesday. Of course, it isn’t Wednesday, which is actually fine by me, because I’m a pretty big fan of Tuesday. But I’m acting like it’s Wednesday, and putting up an Item! post.
What? This isn’t making any sense? Now you know how I feel. 🙂
Also, I include links to Twitter handles too, when I can. If you’re not a fellow Twitterite, here’s my post about why it’s so great.
Item! Post No. 20 in a semi-ongoing series that lets me alter the calendar at will.
Item! This is a fantastic post. You should read it!
It’s called “O is for Openness”. And that’s all I’m going to say about it. Because — wow.
As it was, I held onto to my secret for weeks, smoldering like wet leaves on fire, wrapped up in my judgment and perception of how others would judge me. If I hear one more person pontificate on how diabetes is TOTALLY avoidable, I will rip their living heart from their chest and eat it in front of them, saying to their glazing eyes, “THAT was totally avoidable, dumb-ass.”
I absolutely cannot remember how I got to this amazing post. It probably came from one of you guys, or through the magic of Twitter.
Remind me?
Item! Awkward family photos!
As if I didn’t already adore Jason Lay enough, I will forever love him for introducing me to this collection of supremely awkward family photos.
Jason writes: If your family photos are as awkward as these, I am hoping you have a good sense of humor.
Luckily, they are and I do.
He’s @metanoid on Twitter.
Item! You still can’t get milk from a stone!
A beautiful post from Hiro:
Woman 2: Yeah, you totally deserve milk. You do so much for everyone. You SO deserve milk. (Pause, followed by worried look). So, did he give it to you?
Woman 1: No. He just sat there like . . . like a stone! No milk! How hard could it be to give me milk, after all I’ve done for him? Running around after those kids all day . . . all I need is a little milk. That’s not so much to ask for, is it?
Now you have to read the rest, right?
She’s @hiroboga on Twitter.
Item! I am in a strop!
“In a strop” = a phrase I learned from Tatty Franey whom I’m completely mad about. Apparently it’s an Irish-ism for being in bad mood. Or something.
It is the best phrase in the entire world and I must adopt it at once.
I was in a strop when my site got hacked. I was in a strop when I got out of bed today, and I’m still (kind of) in a strop right now!
You see. It is very useful.
She is @tattyfraney on Twitter.
Item! The Star Trek version of my pirate ship!
Here’s a great post that totally uses my metaphor thing.
It’s inspiring! Despite the utter lack of pirates.
Spock (First Officer): This is the guy that keeps that tension going between the vision and the reality. The poetry and the logic. He grounds Kirk, protects him, does his best to see things through his eyes. Occasionally gives in to his human side. Super-powers: capable of the mind-meld and the Vulcan death grip. This is my husband.
You should read it.
She is @tentativequinox on Twitter.
Item! Etsy sidewalk sale!
It’s dangerous! It’s distracting! And I love it.
Lots of Twitter-centric Etsy sales happening this week (through May 23rd) — you can get gorgeous handmade things at lovely prices… and support artists and craftspeople while you’re at it.
Hooray!
I picked up all sorts of good things (especially from Mrs. Kwittys and Aquarian Bath).
That’s @inmyheadstudios, @misseskwittys, and @aquarianbath that you should be following on Twitter.
Item! My class with Pistachio is tomorrow!
If none of this Twitter stuff is making sense to you — or even it it completely is — you should take my class tomorrow on the Strategy of Not Being Strategic.
Because it’s really useful to know how to use Twitter to grow the cool thing you do (or the cool thing you want to do, or the cool thing that you’re still figuring out).
We’re going to be spewing smartnesses right and left.
And @pistachio is an amazing teacher. Read more about why you should listen to us!
That is all.
Happy reading.
And happy Blustery Windsday. See you tomorrow.
PS: And maybe I’ll get to say hi to you in class (also tomorrow), which would be awesome. Today’s the last chance to sign up.
What you do when you feel like dirt.
This is not some theoretical post, full of brilliant bits of how-to-ishness from genius expert me.
I actually do feel like dirt at the moment.
Dirt. Dirt. Dirt. Dirt. Dirt. Ugh.
To the point that I don’t even feel up to walking you through my process or anything. Sorry.
But maybe just a few of the things I do when everything is dirt, and some of the ideas behind the process. Because there’s no way I can write about — or even think about — anything else right now when it’s all dirt. DIRT.
So: some of the things that help me cope with the hard and come through on the other side when I’m ready.
Not asking “how come”. Just don’t ask.
There is always a good reason — usually a series of good reasons — for why you’re feeling what you’re feeling.
As soon as you start demanding to know why everything feels so awful, you start to doubt the legitimacy of the feeling and wonder what’s wrong with you?!
Which leads you straight into more stuck.
Better: assume legitimacy.
Even though I have no idea why I feel like dirt, this is where I am right now and baby, that’s how it is. For now. Not forever. Just right now.
Giving yourself permission to feel as crappy as you want.
Because that’s what you’re feeling.
It sucks, yes. And … that feeling is what’s true for you in this moment.
If you can’t give yourself permission to feel what you’re feeling, give yourself permission to not be able to feel what you’re feeling yet.
This feeling of dirt doesn’t define me. It’s not the whole of who I am. It’s just the thing I’m dealing with right now. Even though I hate feeling like dirt, I’m allowed to hate it as much as I want.
Letting the reasons have their weight.
Once you’ve stopped asking but how come how come how come and you’ve stopped fighting with the feeling, you’ll probably know why you feel like dirt.
Or at least, you’ll have some pretty decent theories.
Instead of trying to convince yourself that these are stupid reasons and here’s why you actually shouldn’t be feeling like dirt, let those reasons seem like okay reasons.
Talk to yourself as if it were your best friend in the entire world who felt like dirt and had every reason to.
Wow. No kidding. Of course you feel like dirt after X happened. That’s a really hard thing to go through. And you’re catching up on sleep. And you’ve been dealing with all these other things. And things are changing in your life like crazy now. Who wouldn’t feel like dirt right now?
Figuring out what you’re actually talking about.
Okay, so I feel like dirt. What does that mean? What does that look like?
It’s not the same as dirty. It’s not necessarily about messiness. It’s about blah. It’s dusty and formless and smudged and hard all at the same time.
It’s not rich soil where something can grow. It’s just there. It’s useless and it’s there.
It’s hurt in my heart. It’s dread in the pit of my stomach. It’s blocked in my throat.
This is my personal definition of feeling like dirt. And now that I know what it looks like or sounds like or feels like, I can recognize it when it comes up.
Reminding yourself of the relationships between things.
At this point, the stuck might have less power over you, but to some extent it still kind of seems like it’s running your life.
This is where you remember that pain and stuckification and suckiness and feeling like dirt are all temporary, momentary, normal parts of being alive.
They are not the grand sum of your identity. Even when it feels like it is.
Even though I have no idea how long it will take to stop feeling like dirt, I’m going to give myself as much support as I can stand right now. And I’m reminding myself that I am not my thoughts and feelings.
I am larger than all of my thoughts and feelings. I am the being that brings these thoughts and feelings into existence, and I can learn to interact with them instead of being the innocent bystander who keeps getting knocked over by them.
Finding your resources of strength.
There are internal resources to call upon. I get to mine through breathing, singing, dancing, crying, repeating words, writing or meditating.
There are also external resources to call on. I get to mine by talking to my duck or leaning on friends or consulting an old, favorite book. Reading a blog post counts.
If I can’t draw on my own strength, I can draw on someone else’s. If I can’t count on someone else’s, I go back and look for my own.
If the stuck is so intense that it feels as though neither of these are available in that moment, I plant the request in my heart.
Like this: you close your eyes and say, “Strength, please!” and wait for it to come to you.
Sure, this too shall pass and all that. But in the meantime — while I’m in it — I’m willing to receive whatever support I can. I am willing to get better at accessing hidden sources of support that fit what I need.
Avoiding people who will try to talk you out of what you’re feeling.
The cheerer-uppers mean well.
But just as often they make it seem as though it’s no big deal. As though you don’t deserve to feel the thing you’re feeling.
You want the people who will give you a hug. The ones who will make you laugh but are also strong enough to just let you feel like dirt for as long as you need to.
Not the ones who can’t handle your pain because it sets off theirs.
I’m ready for support and kindness from the people in my life … and in the meantime, I’m going to practice giving it to myself because that’s where it starts.
That’s what I’ve got for now.
That and appreciation for my duck Selma and my patient, loving gentleman friend who both allow me to feel like dirt when I feel like dirt.
They remind me what unconditional love is and what it looks like. Which means that — at some point — I’ll probably have at least some sort of shot at being able to practice it with myself.
Friday Check-in #40: vacation hangover edition
Because it’s Friday AGAIN. And because traditions are important. In which I cover the good stuff and the hard stuff in my week, trying for the non-preachy, non-annoying side of self-reflection.
And you get to join in if you feel like it.
The good. The hard. They seem to be alternating so quickly that it’s almost impossible to keep track. Cycles.
So I lost my iPhone which was hard. But then the guy who found it was the sweetest, most wonderful person in the entire world so that was good.
Or: being crazy busy before going on vacation was hard but then being on vacation was good but coming back from it was depressing and nightmarish hard.
Then the Celtics beat Orlando. And then they didn’t. Never mind. Let’s do this thing.
The hard stuff
Vacation hangover.
Foggy brain. Not wanting to get back to work. Delaying things.
Plus taking hours and hours to write blog posts and then not getting them posted until the day is half over.
It was as if my whole body-mind was pleading with me to take another four-day weekend, effective immediately.
Actually, more than vacation hangover … it was something else. It was more like vacation deficit.
Like when you get lots of sleep but you’re still tired because your body hasn’t caught up from all those times you beat the crap out of it.
I have the sinking feeling that my vacation deficit is way, way, way too enormous. Sensing that my duck and I might need some serious time off soon.
Reno.
Now officially added to my list of places I never wish to go near again.
Not that I didn’t madly love Lake Tahoe because I did. But if getting there means the Reno airport, next time we’ll drive, thank you.
I’ve talked before about how life as a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) is not exactly always the most fun thing in the world.
Taking someone who is hypersensitive and putting them in a shabby, dingy airport full of earsplittingly loud slot machines with garish lights, and watching them (okay, me) completely lose it might be entertaining, but it’s not too attractive.
That incessant blooping. Made only worse by the bleeping. Oh, and the awful flashing colored lights.
I was pretty much a wreck. It sucked.
Still with the system changes.
One step forward, one step back. Still doing the systems thing.
Of course, the nice thing about clearing all the enormous rocks out of your path is that you’re not tripping over them anymore.
The annoying thing about it is that now you really notice all those pebbles in your shoe.
Ow. Ow.
I want more vacation! Wah!
Taking a long, lazy, weekend somewhere beautiful is the most delicious thing in the entire world and I must do it again as soon as possible.
Which leads me to …
The good stuff
Four day weekend, baby..
Life-changingly great.
I am determined to have many more of these. Soon.
You know what else was dreamy? Four whole days without the computer. Not as hard as I thought. And really, really nice.
Also: we (me, my gentleman friend and Selma) went hiking in national parks. And we ate ridiculously great breakfasts.
And I got to do yoga in the morning which never happens because usually I write a post right after my morning meditation. Bliss.
The wedding.
So I did have a few seconds of total bewilderment when my gentleman friend told me that his high school girlfriend had asked him to marry her. Off.
You know, to someone else.
The wedding was awesome. First of all, she’s the coolest person ever. And the guy she married is amazing. And I adored all their friends.
And they invited my duck to the ceremony.
Also, it was the first goth-hippie-punk-scooter wedding (or something) I’ve ever attended. Also my first pastafarian (you know, the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster) ceremony.
It was goofy and spontaneous and fun and moving and I cried.
The best part, though, was when some lady saw us all walking down to the sunny beach in our black dresses — and asked if it was a memorial. Nice!
Not that I would get married again, necessarily, but if I ever did, I would also want the bridesmaids to be covered in skull and bat tattoos because that was totally hot.
The eleven hour brunch!
Well, breakfast is the three most important meals of the day. Heaven.
Back home. Thank goodness
Portland! Where everything is lush and green and gorgeous and not so freaking loud.
There are so many things to love about this city. Admittedly the fact that it’s pretty good at not being Reno is one I’d never thought of … but now I appreciate that too.
Being on email sabbatical is the best thing that ever happened to me.
That’s pretty much all I have to say about that but it’s really, really fantastic.
And … STUISMS of the week.
Stu is my paranoid McCarthy-ist voice-to-text software who delights in torturing me misunderstanding me. I can’t stand him. Because he’s an acetyl .
- “Leonard is a bard about” instead of the hardest part about
- “to have encumbered stations” instead of having conversations
- “That Senator business” instead of that’s none of your business
- “What about hubby’s brother” instead of what about Havi’s mother
- “is learning a Jersey sieve” instead of is learning to receive
- “pig glue” instead of igloo
- “jester direction” instead of just a direction
- “I was Frink yesterday” instead of I was at my friend Carolyn’s yesterday
- “I could have a magic opera cloak” instead of a magic hacker cloak
- “not a partnership” instead of not a pirate ship
Freudian Stuism!
- “The fear-based Alliance” instead of their fear-based lives
And for good measure … a Shakespearian Stuism:
- “in witch I Dictate them to stew” instead of in which I dictate them to Stu
That’s it for me …
And yes yes yes, of course you can join in my Friday ritual right here in the comments bit if you feel like it.
Yeah? Anything hard and/or good happen in your week?
And, as always, have a glorrrrrrrrrrrrious weekend. And a happy week to come.