Someone Call Whimsy And Apologise!

May 25, 2018 3:52pm Published by Jules Smith in Off Piste Posting (Any day thoughts) 30 Comments

Cranky Pants

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Frustration On A Friday!

Sometimes it’s good for me to keep you lot on your toes so you don’t go expecting the usual. 

Unfortunately, there was no Whimsy this Wednesday due to the fact that Whimsy left the building, slammed the door and filed for divorce. 

“Go on, leave! Good riddance! I couldn’t stand your controlling ways anyhow! See if I care!  I’ve met someone new called Frustration and I’m meeting him on Friday!” 

Utterly Atrocious

May have actually been the reason that whimsy left me. I had a proper midweek strop on. Usually, I can work through these bouts of toddler rage and oftentimes they make whimsy what it is.  However, I had just been suffering from a five day headache.  I’ve never experienced such a thing in all my life. It was on one side of my head lingering from the temple to the back of my left eye.  Kind of like brain freeze but without the luxury of cookie dough dynamo ice cream being the cause.  

The doc sent me to the eye people to check to see if I had a brain.  I’m not a fan of eye people.  Mostly because I really don’t want to discuss the photograph that makes me want to vomit because I never realised my eyes actually looked liked veiny, orange ping-pong balls. 

Verdict: Too much screenery and not enough scenery.  Stay off computers and rest your eyes or suffer everlasting migraine. 

I went back home, made a coffee and got back to work.

The thing is, when you work for yourself, you can’t just off on a jolly with a headache.  Things need constant attention. 

Talking of attention…

leads me nicely onto my next rant about Instagram. Having an Instagram account (as I have) for a personal reason is easy. You post pictures as and when you want to and folks come and follow you or not and there’s no pressure. Having an Instagram account for a business is a totally different ball game.

There are rules. 

Instagram has turned into the biggest social media platform – especially for business. You have to post consistently, be entertaining, call to action, develop #funkyhashtags, follow other people in your niche market and try to develop a following.  VERY difficult. Because mostly, the people who follow you are also businesses.

And this is what they do:

Follow you. (Ah, how sweet)

You follow back. (Polite, supportive and community building)

They wait a while until they think you won’t notice and unfollow you. (RUDE)

This pisses me off beyond belief. It just goes to show how driven people are just to get “likes” and build up their little emporium with total unashamed disregard for anyone. False, fickle and…I’m trying to think of something else beginning with F because I have alliteration addiction but it’s too rude. 

Because this infuriates me way beyond a level it should, I have an app that tells me who has done this. Every day I go on it and find the culprits. I then go to their feed, like every single one of their pictures so that I am seen on all of them and then unfollow them back.  I know that this is totally childish but I don’t care. I am turning into the Judge Dredd of Instagram. 

Secondly, it is apparently VITAL that you follow celebrities and fawn all over them with heart eyed emojis and high school girl talk. Cue projectile vomit. I tried it for a day and it made me poorly.  Granted, if Kim Kardashian picks up a piece of my merchandise or reads one of my books I’m set for life but do I really want to sell my soul to achieve that? No. Not playing by Instagram rules anymore. Soz.

A Bit of Divine Assistance

Being totally at odds with the fickle ways of the modern world, I decided to go to church on Sunday. This helps me rebalance, become humbled after the barrage of narcissism I am subjected to and stops me wanting to throttle everyone. 

However, I’m not quite down with High Church cos it ain’t like Texas Cowboy Church where people welcome you with hugs and doughnuts, a good sense of humour and accept you no matter your never-ending flaws.  This particular church, I sometimes frequent when in need of moral guidance, has a lady in it that does my head in.  I know her from somewhere in my past though I can’t remember where.  All I know is that it’s unpleasant.  

There’s a part in the service called “The Peace” where everyone shakes each other’s hand and says, “Peace be with you”.  I’m a very awkward person and find this part of the service staggeringly difficult.  I always want to say something ridiculous.  But, every time I put my hand out to this woman she ignores me and greets someone else instead, coming to me in her own good time and clearly under duress.

Well, guess what that does to my peace? It sends it flying right out of the stained glass window. 

So, that went well.

Animal Instinct

Not relying on my own instincts I went to have a chat with Kevin. 

Uromastyx on hand

He didn’t care.  

Nor did the dog.

Dog hiding in bed

Hang on Stroopy, Stroopy Hang On!

With both people and animals out of the question in my search for harmony, I resorted to a new packet of biscuits that had found a way into my house. 


Stroop biscuit

This, my friends, is called a Stroop biscuit and it is heaven sent. How I have got to this tender age without putting one of these in my mouth is outrageous.  This should be a Dutch National Treasure. 

But, like most things, this was just a passing relief and did not sedate the torrent of atrociousness growing inside me. Take an o out of Stroop and what have you got? 

Strop, I Want To Get Off!

Maybe it was too much sugar, maybe it was the lady at church, maybe it was Kim Kardashian, I don’t know but I had to forcibly make myself go outside and have a big calm down.  I sat there looking at the flowers thinking, “Right that’s it, I’m done. I’m shutting it all down and starting anew. All this effort for such little reward. Had enough. Even whimsy has left me.”

Yes, people, I nearly pressed the big red button. But just as I was sitting there formulating a plan where I run off in just my jeans and boots, committing to nothing but the moment, an email came through.

“Where’s whimsy?  I miss it?”

and another….

“I don’t think my link is working….”

And another…

“Can I take part in your new book?” 

Wow. Talk about perfect timing.

Are you lot stalking me or something? 😉 

Party Smarty Pants

May 16, 2018 1:07pm Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 29 Comments

Satirical Snapshots bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

Whimsy?  What is this?  Where did it go? 

I’ve been stuck inside from dawn to dusk working FOR-EV-ER.  All work and no play makes Jules a dull girl.  

This needs to be rectified with haste.

Lippy and Loose

However, I did get invited to a party last Saturday night.  It could be said that I was a little hyperactive because I hadn’t been out for ages and it was a revelation to blow dry my hair, fall in love with the art of perfect lipstick application and wear high heels again. 

I was met at the door with a glass of bubbly that never, ever seemed to empty as the night wore on. Meeting new people is always fun and fascinating for me if not a little terrifying for them. 


I was asked to bring food to the event so being an honorary Texan I decided to enlighten the British partygoers by making Cowboy Beans and Seven Layer Dip.  

British people don’t seem to understand these things.  If it’s not a trifle, a sarnie or a beetroot salad, they get a bit anxious.

“Is anyone eating these cowboy beans or what?”  I demanded in my ‘loaded with bubbly’ personality. 

“Oh, I wondered what they were!  What are cowboy beans?”

“The future of beans. Period.  A taste sensation and you need to eat some NOW.” 

“Yes, of course.  Yum!”

“And what about this seven layer dip?  Come on! Get stuck in!”

“Oh, I thought it was cold lasagne so I didn’t try it.”

“What a bunch of Fysi- Fsyik- Fysigunkuses…Fysigunki?  Whatevs. Pass me my drink…”

It Isn’t Over Yet

Despite being introduced to lots of fun people, I am dreadful at remembering names unless you’ve made an outlandish impression on me.  Instead, I refer to people as, “That guy in the checked shirt that looks at everyone’s boobs,” or “That chick with the massive necklace on, ya know, if she falls into the river she’s gonna drown,” or “ That really pretty girl that sounds like she’s swallowed a helium balloon,” and so on. 

Some people who came to the party brought along a Swedish couple that had come to visit them. I’ve always like a bit of Swede.  I find them quite interesting because they’re always well dressed in a very plain and basic way: understated quality. This might make you pass them over for someone more flamboyant but don’t judge a book by its cover. The Swedes I’ve interacted with in the past are usually very dry and witty. 

“Ooh, foreigners!  I’ve always fancied going to Sweden.  I might ask them if it’s true that it’s the rape capital of the world.”

“You CAN”T ask them that, Jules, that is NOT party conversation?”

*? ? ?  Can someone please enlighten me as to what party conversation is? *

Anyway, the Swedish guy came over to be introduced and I stuck out my hand in that ‘Oh so British way because it’s too soon for hugs’ and told him my name.

“Juliette,” I said. 

“Yet,” he replied.

“No. Juliette,” I repeated.

“Yet,” he insisted.

I tried not to roll my eyes in frustration, I really did.

“JU – LEE- YET,”  I accentuated like I was talking to a toddler.

“Yes, I understand,” he continued. “MY name is YET!”




This made me snigger for at least 5 hours.

“So, Yet,” I replied.  “It’s obviously meant to be that we met because I’m never going to forget your name now, am I?  Now then, let’s have a chat about whether you’ve ever been abused without your consent. With that lovely cabled jumper you’re wearing, I wouldn’t be surprised….” 

And contrary to what people think about my inappropriate interaction, I’ve even been invited back to future dinner parties and all sorts.  Some people like weird. 

JS – Party Etiquette Central.

An Unfrogettable Week

May 2, 2018 3:21pm Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 33 Comments

doc martens in rain

Satirical Snapshots Bringing You Whimsy On A Wednesday!

They say that when a man talks about the weather he is bored with life.  Well, since I’m a woman it doesn’t count and when you live in England, one tends to get bored with the downpours. 

If it rains anymore I think I might cry.  I’m surprised the population of this country hasn’t halved due to depression. The only upshot of this is that I have become a master at taking photographs in the rain.  Who knows, maybe this is my life’s mission and I never realised; turning atrocious weather into an art form. 

Apparently sunshine is coming but I find myself having one-way sarcastic banter with the weather forecasters on TV.  It’s a shame because I really used to like Carol Kirkwood from the BBC.  That’s another friend gone. 

Talking of friends…

uromastyx in tank

Kevin the new Godzilla has to be kept at a nice 40 C in order to be all lizardy and healthy. On the downside, that is costing me money since it’s still winter here but on the upside I spend a fair amount of time with him as it’s the warmest room in the house. T-shirt weather in Kev’s pad.  I find it fascinating that he lives in one of the wettest countries and yet is not allowed to have any water. He can only get hydration from his leafy greens.

Talking of water…

I realised that shutting myself in a room with a spiny tail lizard, despite its exotic advantages, was making me become less socialised than usual and it was time to don the raincoat, put up the brolly and venture outside.  So, I went to the reptilian centre at the university.  I forget what for because I became utterly distracted and transfixed by Gertrude.

African clawed frog

This is she.  It doesn’t look real, does it? Gertrude is an African clawed frog. She didn’t flinch.  Not once.  I know this because I stood staring at this awkward amphibian suspended in water for a good length of time.  Long enough to forget what the bloody hell I was doing.  Gertrude has powers.  Look into her eyes and you will find that all of life’s answers will be revealed to you.

The future is froggy.

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