The people's flag is Fib Sunday

Same sex partnerships, dear reader, and welcome to Fib Sunday!

And what a fabulous Sunday it is. Well, it was. I'm just in the door, mon amour, after a wee trip up North. Blazing sun, temperatures in the twenties and scenery to die for. Back in Edinburgh - low cloud, mist and decidedly chilly.

Makes even the most optimistic of people consider suicide. Yes, I know! What do I know...?

Fib Sunday is late, yes, and I'm a whole twenty four hours late in playing Haiku Saturday. I'm sorry, so sorry. Please forgive me. I don't want to hear, I don't want to know, please don't...

If you don't know what Fib Sunday is, or indeed, what's going on, click here for the original instructions. They're really sweet and with no bitter aftertaste!

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last week, Phyllis left us with same as Brian's. Now, does this mean same as Brian's is the topic or is the topic the one as left by Brian previously...?

Frump Friedkin and the greasy doughnuts that ate a hole in the chocolate covered tarpaulin hiding Brad Pitt's frozen banana hammock.

Brad!
No!
Stop it!
Banana...
...takes the greasy rings.
Not Frump's brown length, undercover.

Next topic:

Deepest red.

More Fib Sunday

Sunday is the day of rest, dear reader. But I cannot rest. I have to work out why Russell shiTforbrains Davies is so obsessed with recycling themes, characters, names and stories in his work. It used to be interesting, now it's plain annoying.

But, oh, what better way to take my mind off this vile little man than Fib Sunday?

There is no other way. Well, there's putting my tongue in a plug socket, but it's a waste of electricity, quite frankly.

Incidentally, this is the last ever Fib Sunday. More to the point, my last ever blog entry. Ever. I'm tired of it, to be honest. It takes up a lot of my time, time that should be spent living, not talking about living.

So that's it.

If you don't know what Fib Sunday is, or indeed, what's going on, click here for the original instructions. They are quite fabulous, even if I say so myself.

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last time, Brian left us with the topic of a fly on the wall overhears a conversation between Edina Monsoon and Andy Warhol. My stylised yet overweight response:

"Uh
oh -
Andy!"
Said Eddie,
"I'm on a tin can?"
"Yeah," said Warhol. "Beans. Buddhist beans."

Next topic:

1st April 2007

Have yourself a merry Fib Sunday

Once again, as in olden days, happy golden days of yore, we find ourselves in the midst of Fib Sunday, dear reader.

This is actually the second time I've tried to cast Fib Sunday into cyberspace today, my little maid. On my first attempt, clicking the publish button resulted in the appearance of the spinning beachball of death, all thanks to the instability of the Netscape browser and their refusal to develop a new version for we Mac users. The wankers. I would have called them a bunch of cunts, but I think the C word is a bit strong for a Sunday, don't you agree, my love?

Tip for today: click on the save as draft button with every sentence you type, darling.

If you don't know what Fib Sunday is, hen, or indeed, what's going on, click here for the original instructions. Please ask permission from the bill payer.

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last week, in the turmoils of self-doubt, Matty (the last man standing) was unsure whether to offer his own topic of Skeeter Davis or to continue with Kapitano's Pump up the volume. Unlike Alex Salmond, I have the moral authority to do what the hell I like, so am combining the two:

In
tune;
Future...
...and the past:
MARRS and Skeeter sang,
"It ended when you said goodbye."

Next topic:

Little Christmas.

Success has made a failure of Fib Sunday

Would you risk it for a biscuit?

Bonjour, dear reader, and welcome to Fib Sunday! It's been a while, but now der tag der poesie is back! Back!! Back!!! Etc.

Oh, and not only is today Fib Sunday, but it's also Mother's day. Well, it is here in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

Braun Independent. Beautiful hair. Any time. Anywhere.

If you don't know what Fib Sunday is, or indeed, what's going on, click here for the original instructions. Go on. Quick, while no-one's looking. It'll be our little secret.

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last time, Brian left us with the topic of Croatoan. My fictional yet scientific response:

Pa!
Down...
In death -
There is life!
Abortions will end
With the gnashing of croc's teeth. Balls!

Next topic:

Our home.

Goodbye Fib Sunday

She knows if she touches it, she'll break it, dear reader.

I wish that I was married
And all my work was done
Living with my ma-in-law
And sleeping with her son

Bubble and squeak, mon amour. And welcome to Fib Sunday.

If you don't know what Fib Sunday is, or indeed, what's going on, click here for the original instructions. Or if poetry's not your bag, try this, a gallery of men in kilts. It's really quite fabulous.

Oh, and by the way, I've recently learned to count to ten. Look:

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. So confident am I, I'm thinking of resitting GCSE/standard grade maths. But not before I've mastered eleven to one hundred. It's the teens, they get me every time. Why can't it be oneteen, twoteen, threeteen...?

I might write to The Queen and complain. She's a good girl and loves the common people, always taking their side. You know, the lowly ranks, the Baronets and Life Peers.

Hark at me, veering from the subject at hand, my little maid! Fib Sunday...

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last week, Matty finished off proceedings with a poem about Anne Murray. Sadly, he didn't leave a new topic. The last person to do that was Anjou Wu with quality or quantity?

My superior and abundant response:

This
time
I know
it's for real.
Stories of our lives:
Lots of small cocks or one big one?

Next topic:

Cruel world!

A rockin' Fib Sunday

Can we get together? I really want to be with you. Come on, check it out with me. I hope you feel the same way, too.

If it's bitter at the start, then it's sweeter in the end.

Bom dia, grüß Gott and all that... Oh, and welcome to the world of Fib Sunday, dear reader! And what a day! The powers that be meddled with time (and The Doctor was not involved) in the night. I feel like the victim of a sci-fi horror novel. Guests in my home would have found me, at the ungodly hour of 10:40, sat around in my bra and pants. I thought it was 09:40. BST is a vile travesty of all that is strange about the United Kingdom. I feel like taking my bag of hammers to it.

Nothing stays the same, honey. Click here to read a story about the end of time. No, really.

I heard she drove the silvery sports car along the empty streets last night.

But I digress...

Having messed around with creating cinematic fabulousness last evening, folding pants and thoughts for the day (alright, it was only bloody You Tube), it's time to move from lowbrow to highbrow (I can dream, can't I?). From nonsensical campery to Fib Sunday, my little maid.

Don't mess around.

If you don't know what Fib Sunday is, or indeed, what's going on, click here for the original instructions. You'll thank me for it later.

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last time, Brian left us with the topic of the funniest song you've ever heard. My melodic yet humourous response:

Dim
All
The lights
When they play
That strange chicken song
None shall see me piss with laughter

Next topic:

...good way.

Try it (I'm in love with Fib Sunday)

I think of you each day. I think of you at night. Do you think about me, darling, when you make love to your wife?

Phyllis and I are just back from the lakes. It was fabulous. I'm going to sort out the thousands of photographs we took, upload them to my computer and blog about the funkiest of weekends tomorrow.

Not only is today Fib Sunday, but it's also Window On Your World day. Depending on your global location, 5pm/17:00 has either passed or is looming. Please take part and remember to email your photograph to me, dear reader, at your earliest convenience. I hope to get all the images online by the middle of next week.

But back to today, Fib Sunday:

If you don't know what's going on or indeed what Fib Sunday is, click here to read the original instructions. Go on, you know you want to.

Go on!

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last time, Kapitano left us with the topic of Boom Bang-a-bang. My rockin' response:

Loud
in
my ear:
Lulu shouts.
Please sing instead, hen.
Don't boom! Chirp! Bang - and then we're done!

Next topic:

Living out a fantasy!

She fib, he fib, we fib, I fib, you fib, they fib, be bop a lou bop, I hope he will Fib Sunday.

Shamone, Mother. Welcome to Bournemouth. And welcome to Fib Sinday. Ain't no law against it, yet! Oh, ok, Sunday, then.

She.

Cries.

Your.

Name.

If you don't know what's going on or indeed what Fib Sunday is, click here to read the original instructions. Go on, you'll feel better having dug around in the past. Think of it as a form of time travel.

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last week, Rand left us with the topic of charitable giving. My response:

Give
Take
Exchange
You get cash
I get warm feelings
The kids get food, Bob gets kudos.

Next topic:

Tight, blue jeans!

Look what happened to Fib Sunday

Jabberjaws, mes amis!

It's that awkward day again, the day that comes between Saturday and Monday. Yes, it's Tuesday. But just for now, we're going to pretend it's Sunday - and that can mean only one thing! Yes, it's Fib Sunday!

If you don't know what's going on or indeed what Fib Sunday is, click here to read the original instructions. Go on, you know you want to.

Go on!

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last time, Rand left us with the topic of daily, necessary tasks. I offer:

Rise,
Wash,
Get dressed,
Pack my lunch,
These, I can handle;
But the daily wank is a chore.

Next topic:

The Queen of corned beef and salami.

You can't be Fib Sunday

Today is Sunday - Fib Sunday! Exciting! Nice to take part in Fib Sunday!

Please take part. You know you want to. Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on... etc.

If you don't know what's going on, click here to read the original instructions.

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One

Small,

Precise,

Poetic,

Spiraling mixture:

Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last week, Brian left us with the topic of quidditch. My response:

Balls,
Bats,
Witches,
Chimera!
J K lives near me.
I've seen her playing in her yard.

Next topic:

Tennis

Fib Sunday ain't gonna shine anymore

Guten tag, dear reader.

Today is Sunday - Fib Sunday! Exciting! Nice to take part in Fib Sunday!

Please take part. You know you want to. Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on... etc.

If you don't know what's going on, click here to read the original instructions.

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One

Small,

Precise,

Poetic,

Spiraling mixture:

Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last week, Kapitano left us with the topic of Oops I did it again. My response:

Pop!
Not
music;
Her marriage.
She did it again.
She wants to beat Elizabeth?

Next topic:

Franki Valli

Oh, I wish it could be Fib Sunday everyday!

Hey, baby!

It's Fib Sunday!

Love Sundays? Love Fibs?

Fib Sunday is for you, dear reader!

Yes, yes, yes!

If you're unfamiliar with Haiku Saturday, check this out. Fib Wednesday runs along similar lines.

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One

Small,

Precise,

Poetic,

Spiraling mixture:

Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last week, Brian left us with the topic of childhood pranks - my reply:

Knock!
Knock!!!
"Who's there?"
"Come on, run!"
He never found out.
Fear. Heart attack. Dead. Childish prank.

Next topic: Early readers.

Dancing Fib Sunday

I voke ap zis mornink, dia reedah, viz a slaitlih zore het. Oh, I don't have to keep up my vile impression of a Serbian lesbian anymore.

To celebrate Eurovision, Phyllis and I drank the champagne we were going to take to Alan's house on Friday, until he forgot he'd invited us to his homecoming party, that is! He should have been blonde!

It may be this, it may be that, but Eurovision is still wildly entertainling, even with the block/political voting and the rubbish we send year in, year out. Images of last night, will, I'm sure, haunt me for all eternity.

I'm quite disappointed. Verka Serduchka's Dancing lasha tumbai was pipped to the post by Marija Serifovic. Still, Phyllis was pleased; it was his favourite. The UK came second from last with nineteen points. For a while, it looked like Scooch were coming home with nul points again. Oddly, Malta awarded us a maximum of twelve! Was the entire Maltese population stoned last night? I've done my fair share of moaning about Scooch over the past few weeks, but the song has grown on me and we were remarkably better than some of the other trash featured last night in the East European Song Contest.

Some major fixes have to be implemented before Eurovision 2008, my love. The voting system has to be seriously amended and we have to stop sending has beens and wannabes. I'd suggest a regional contest, perhaps splitting the EBU countries into six regions (western, mediterranean, central, Scandanavia, eastern and non-European) with each region sending their top scoring three or four acts. I think it sounds like a good idea.

Phyllis and I both downloaded the score card from the BBC website last night. Using the traditional Eurovision scoring system, my results were:

Ukraine 12
Slovenia 10
Turkey 8
Georgia 7
Hungary 6
Serbia 5
Bulgaria 4
Finland 3
Germany 2
Romania 1

One might see my scores and claim any arguments concerning political/block voting are blown out of the water as many of my favourites are from Eastern Europe. No. Because most of my favourite acts were eliminated in the semi-final on Thursday which resulted in ten entrants from the former Soviet block et al. Losing Denmark was a travesty.

Before moving on to matters at hand, just a few words about each entry from last night:

Bosnia & Herzegovina - Dull.
Spain - Remember No Mercy?
Belarus - Vulgar accent and not Donna Summer.
Ireland - The poor woman couldn't sing for toffee.
Finland - Nice basque!
FYR Macedonia - Ridiculous.
Slovenia - Opera and lights!
Hungary - A tribute to Billie Ray Martin.
Lithuania - Shadow theatre.
Greece - A Ricky Martin rip-off.
Georgia - Björkish.
Sweden - Love grows where my Rosemary goes.
France - Ça plane pour moi.
Latvia - Il Divo.
Russia - A Slavic Girls Aloud.
Germany - Harry Connick Jnr on cabbage.
Serbia - Poison dwarf. Funky little dyke. Melanie Skubich. One half of Abbott and Costello.
Ukraine - Timmy Mallett on acid.
UK - Camp with delicious double entendres. Love Russ' big cock/package.
Romania - Fabulously ethnic.
Bulgaria - Would win if she could sing.
Turkey - Mr Claypole!
Armenia - Dull shit.
Moldova - Clothes from Empire Stores.

What a shame, my love. And to think, if we'd sent Cyndi, we'd have won.

Oh, and I think I saw Thomas on the telly last night. Sat in the same row as the ridiculous bint in pink were two outrageous gays waving Australian flags. Could they have been Thomas and the gay divorcee?

And so, to the real reason for a blog entry on a Sunday: Fib Sunday! Hurrah!

If you don't know what Fib Sunday is, hen, or indeed, what's going on, click here for the original instructions. Hei!

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last week, Brian left us with the topic of Worshipping Ganesha whilst eating earwax-filled chocolate cupcakes and allowing Mama Cass to give you a full frontal massage using flaming maracas, a punctured inner tube, and a moon rock that was given to her by Neil Armstrong when they had that fling at the chateau in Zurich the summer of '70. No, really.

My response:

Hi
Cass!
Rub here.
Hindu chants...
Make me hungry for:
Spain, cycling, Switzerland and space.

Next topic:

Lasha tumbai.

A stranger in Fib Sunday

Bonjour!

I'm being fooled, here, dear reader. The calendar says it's April, but the thermometer says it's July. It's hotter here than it is in Malawi! Something to be excited about.

Of course, excitement soon turns to depression when we remember the power of karma. Four stomachs, one heart is no more.

For every good thing in the world, there's a bad. I know, it stinks, doesn't it, hen.

Still, we've always the sunshine and the joy of Fib Sunday to take our minds off of other more sorrowful things. And there are other blog games to be played, too, dear reader, if you do so desire. There's Haiku Saturday and Remember that one time...? to name but two.

If you don't know what Fib Sunday is, or indeed, what's going on, click here for the original instructions. Or here if you want to do something just as fabulous and play Bubbels.

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last time, Brian left us with the topic of I hate to tell you this but that's not tea you just drank. I hereby excrete the following:

Heard
the
kettle...
She drank it.
Just biding my time
to see the health effects of piss.

Next topic:

My place.

I close my eyes and count Fib Sunday

I had a strange dream last night. I was island hopping in the Caribbean. A boat took me to one port on an island, a bus to another and then a boat to the next island and so on. At least five times. All along the way, I saw people, people from my past. No-one from my present. Only people with whom I no longer have any contact. One of these people was an ex-boyfriend. As with all the others, I could see him, but he could not see me. Almost looking through me. He looked up, almost aware someone or something was there, but unable to detect me. Like I was a ghost.

I woke up bewildered and was about to ask Ian if he ever dreams about former boyfriends/girlfriends/lovers - but thought better of it. I used to let the past annoy and frustrate me, but no longer. I simply close my eyes and count to ten.

Fib Sunday, this week is brought to you by the number 69 and the letters S, H, I and T. Oh, and the inspiration is courtesy of Marc Almond and Sarah Cracknell, chiefly from the duet as heard on Marc's latest album, Stardom Road. I adore it. Essentially, it's a covers album and one of the tracks is Strangers in the night. On my first listen, I thought the recording quite self-indulgent, but rapidly, I began to see the light. Checking out the lyrics, you too, dear reader, will see that the song sung by an outragous queer like Almond turns the entire thing on its head and into an ode to trolling. Anyone who's ever cruised Hampstead Heath, by day or by night, will be able to relate, quite well, to Strangers in the night, relate to it as they've never done before.

If you don't know what Fib Sunday is, hen, or indeed, what's going on, click here for the original instructions. If Fibs don't interest you, check out this nice painting.

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last week, FiL left us with the topic of Missing one's calling. My introspective response:

Some
Care.
You care
About me;
But not so much that
You'd give me up for the Priesthood.

Next topic:

To ten.

I can't believe Fib Sunday

What will we do when the money's gone, hen? I'm not asking Cher for another loan. She charges 49.9% typical APR.

Thank God I've got Fib Sunday to take my mind off of my corporate and financial worries. A life in the workhouse now beckons.

Shit.

And double shit.

Did Oliver get bummed in there?

If you don't know what Fib Sunday is, hen, or indeed, what's going on, click here for the original instructions. If Fibs don't interest you, check out this nice painting.

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last week, Ian Thorpe left us with the topic of the sound of a clock. My perfectly timed response:

Tick
tock
tick tock
tick tock tick
tock tick tock tick tock
Time goes by so slowly, my love.

Next topic:

It's over.

Come on and Fib Sunday

People can't understand it.

I had a dream about the Queen last night. She was really upset, begging me to be her friend. She said she had none and that Tony Blair had betrayed her trust. Furthermore, she claimed he hated her. She said she was going to kill him.

"There are guns in the palace," she said.

Poor woman. All that money and still she's as miserable as sin. And she is, dear reader. How often do you see her smile? And her blank, unexpressive face is hardly that. She looks like she's just been told to eat a dog shit.

You can be rich in paradise.

Money can't and won't bring us happiness. A cliché, I know, but the best things in life are free. Shopping for a designer ball gown is all well and good, but there's no joy to be had with no friends at the ball. Eating at a fancy restaurant might well be fabulous, but eating chateaubriand at a table for one is hell on a plate.

Happiness is just a state of mind, but a state only achieved with the help of friends. Perhaps that's why I'm so obsessed with Big Brother. They become my friends for the Summer.

I'm zipping up my boots, my little maid, going back to my roots, my Fib Sunday roots.

If you don't know what Fib Sunday is, hen, or indeed, what's going on, click here for the original instructions. If Fibs don't interest you, check out this nice painting.

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last week, Ken Monteith left us with Up here for thinking; down there for dancing. My dancin' 'n' boozin' response:

Up
Down
And all
Around me
I look to the clouds
Think how great hell is for dancing

Next topic:

Touch me.

The first time ever I saw Fib Sunday

Happy new year, dear reader. Never thought I'd feel this way and I've got to say that I just don't get it.

Heute is Fib Sunday, my love, not just the first day of the Chinese year. If you don't know what's going on or indeed what Fib Sunday is, click here to read the original instructions. Go on, you know you want to.

Go on!

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last time, Brian left us with the topic of Oscar Wilde. My response (with hard labour):

Boys,
Boys,
Go now.
Oscar's dead.
Please tell all your friends:
He could not take the Eucharist.

Next topic:

North Carolina

Lay all your love on Fib Sunday

Should you hear the air attack warning, please play Fib Sunday.

Either that, or do something equally as outrageous. Life is precious, dear reader. Don't waste it. Everything is you.

If you don't know what's going on or indeed what Fib Sunday is, click here to read the original instructions. Go on, you know you want to.

Go on!

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last time, an anonymous contributor left us with the topic of binary - my austere response:

Just
one
number
says nothing;
one and a zero
tells a tale like a thousand words!

Next topic:

Me

Twist in my Fib Sunday

Bonkers des Schwänze, dear reader, and welcome to the phenomenon which is Fib Sunday. In the words of Kate Bush (The saxaphone song), "Something special indeed."

Indeed.

After a week off, we're back! back!! back!!! etc!

If you don't know what's going on or indeed what Fib Sunday is, click here to read the original instructions. Go on, you know you want to.

In brief:

1) I take the topic as given in last week's final entry, write a Fib and give a new topic.
2) Your reply to the topic is in the form of a Fib in the comment section.
3) You then supply the next topic.
4) The next visitor replies with a Fib on the newly given topic and then provides a new topic and so on...

A Fib is a six line, twenty syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8. The only restriction on a Fib is that the syllable count follow the Fibonacci sequence. An example of a classic fib:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.

Last time, Brian left us with the topic of popping the question. My response:

Mais,
Oui,
Amour,
I need you.
Now I need to ask,
"Do you need me, or perhaps nicht?"

Next topic: Sobriety vs cha cha heels