Meet My Newly Adopted Wombies!

Here is a picture of Victor and Victoria.

They arrived tonight via Tasmanian Devil Airways. Oddly they seem to have somewhat of a Canadian accent.

Victor and Victoria

These sweet Wombies were adopted courtesy of Wombania.

Right now I am preparing their bedding, getting to know them, cooking up some hot chocolate, and placing a Wombie Door in the back of the house. I was advised by Binky that Wombies need room to dig. Knew that if they were allowed to roam freely the bright neon lights of downtown Reno would cause them to wander. Certainly there are chocolate shops, SPAM sandwiches at the Hawaiian restaurant and other delights but they are too young. No one wants a drunk Wombie  gambling away their cupcakes.

Stay tuned as Victor and Victoria explore Reno, learn to ski (Victoria has expressed a great interest in this) and we go on adventures to find Wine Gums in the western United States.
Now it’s time for dinner: Candy and that delish hot chocolate with marshmallows.

~Miss R
A New Wombie Mommy

Night of the Living Wine Gums

They’ve come. You could say the same of myself.

It was a dark and not particularly stormy night in Reno, Nevada. The wasteland of the west.

Here is a bit of background: Read it. Jesus quit your paragraph skipping.

After several successful careers in various states (both physical and mental) your humble writer was forced from the United States into banishment. Threats of burnings in effigy, psychotic villagers with dull pitchforks and letters to editors across the country brought about this bizarre event.

I’m not one to brag, but it may have been partially my own fault. Potentially my fault. Okay entirely. I’m that good.

Reno is similar to Vegas. A Vegas bereft of large food markets, any type of whacko culture –yes the Reno Strip looks like Meth Central- and graced only by a single Trader Joe’s. A Vegas run by a dying mob family turned hobo.

Reno: Home of the homeless. My bastille, trap, and foreseeable residence. All that is missing is a fine cask of Amontillado. Some fava beans would be nice.

Armed only with a piano and Internet connection this author was able to interact with the outside. To her consternation there appeared to be something missing. Something available to people from the UK to Canada to Rwanda.

wine gums

The fascination became overwhelming. After world-wide travels, residency in large wondrous cities, and the surreptitious sojourns to Tijuana, it became clear that I had been truly cheated of a life experience.

WINE GUMS!

These seemingly epicurean delights were mentioned by bloggers comprised of French, Goth, Australian, Canadian, and even some crazed redhead located in –shudder- the southern United States.

Today, while sitting in the desolate yet bizarrely charming Castille du Blaque, daydreaming of trimming the crypt with festive Festivus black and zombie green lights, a knock came at the door.

Welcome 'O Seeker of Knowledge

Welcome ‘O Seeker of Knowledge

Now realize, I do not leave the house during the day. Receive no mail save the daily carton of past due notices, and rarely answer the phone. The doorbell is anathema. Despite these fine character features I made an exception. I answered the door.

The exception that Changed My Life.

Wine Gums, directly from the Great White North. Sent by the god Peter, King of Wombania. Savior, Saint, Artist and All Around Amazing Dude.

The Wine Gum packaging was inviting. A black background festooned with images of the delights hidden within. With trembling hands I carefully reached for the scissors to open the first of three packages. Then threw the fucking shears to the floor and ripped open the bag with my teeth.

As you do.

Oh heaven moved upon the first taste. The flavors of fruit that pop. The chewy consistency. The feeling of… a life complete.

I shall Yelp my findings to the world. Offer a Laurel (and hardy) handshake to Peter, and emerge from this fortress of neurosis a new woman.

A woman ready to take on the world, fighting for rights of the oppressed free-thinkers, coffee addicts, and slightly used Guapola ferrets.

I KNOW THE SECRET OF LIFE AND THAT SECRET IS WINE GUMS

Piss off ye Philistines and rednecks of Nevada. Kiss my lily-white Irish-Hebraic ass you uneducated cretins of Reno. Oh, and a big Fuck-Off to gummy anything candies.

Tasty Goodness is mine. I owe it all to Fraz, Winky, Binky, and an amazing artist named Peter.

To paraphrase Rufus T Firefly….Hail Hail Wombania!

 Now phuck off and let me nosh on these wine gums until my remaining 3 molars fall out.

Mmmmmmmm Wine Gums.

~Miss R

A Plethora of Foolishness: A Guide to El Guapo

El Guapo: The Man. The Myth. The Misanthrope.

Today’s Music: Volga Boat Song/Let’s All Dance to Joy Division Mash-Up

You may think that you know El Guapo but you are mistaken my friend.
From his humble beginnings as an Irish Satanic Hindu living on the streets of Paris, selling matchbooks to wealthy Japanese tourists, his exploits continue to amaze the blogosphere.

Certainly he has Alpine skied the Great Lakes, surfed the titan swells of Barstow, and of course his most fabulous feat: Using his parachute but once during that historic dive from the highest most point of the roller coaster on Casino Pier atop Seaside Heights, NJ. AFTER Hurricane Sandy.

El Guapo is truly a living legend.

Here a few pointers you’ll need to truly enjoy Guapola, the home of El Guapo.

    1.

BYOB. This tip was passed along from an anonymous high school friend. Guap was once heard to mention over mystery meat and expired milk “Sonny won’t Cher” (sic).

    2.

The man loves Poles. Sadly he is Anti-Semantic in person and purposely taunts his ‘common’ readers with correctly placed semi-colons. Not to mention full bladders as he guzzles his daily beer intake. See Above. We are not aware of his full colon exploits.

    3.

The El Guano Cave: do not attempt to fund an expedition to his top secret location in Gotham. Although he does reveal his present whereabouts as The City he is in current litigation with next door neighbor, a Mr. Bruce Wayne. Court documents have been sealed but it appears that a conflict has arisen over bats in the belfry.

    4.

Never attempt to dissuade El Guapo from his taste in music. Do not laugh, condescend nor feed the animal. It is rumored that he once beat a 43 person crowd of Kenny G. fans to death with a small mammal. Another rumor has it that he used marsupial road-kill as back up.

    5.

His weekly Friday Foolishness blog posts are funded by The People’s Front of Judea. Do not mistake this organization for a Zionist conspiracy. Mr. Guapo appears to have chosen the name of this alleged charity organization in order to funnel money. Yes! The proceeds from his writing are wired into a Swiss bank account, via the Cayman Islands (where El Guapo purports to ‘surf’). Money is then transferred to the World Wide Organization for Flies and Sewage. DBA records show that this shell company is a wall shielding The Sally Struthers Anorexia and B-Actress Eradication Program. The man does not wish the world to know of his philanthropic slant.
What else can be said of this adventurer, explorer, giver and supporter of the underprivileged?

Well let’s check this shit out!

El Guapo Birthday Poll

Roman Polanski

El Guapo Readers I hope that this Primer helps your understanding of the madness and brilliance that is El Guapo.
Let us all wish him a Happy Birthday!

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p.s. blame Red heh