Toxic Waste Of Time

January 11, 2017 6:48pm Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 16 Comments

Satirical snapshots bringing you whimsy on a Wednesday

On the wagon of despair

Look, its very difficult to be whimsical when you’re trying to be “normal” and adopt an everyday lifestyle like no alcohol, green food and practical accomplishments. I’ve got to tell you it’s put me in a bit of a tailspin and I’m not all together at one with life. I really don’t think it’s for me and I’m far more fun when I’m being self absorbed, drinking Margarita’s and being inappropriate.

Narcolepsy is no joke

Being normal also brings about severe drowsiness. I don’t know if it’s because of the detoxification process or the fact it’s so utterly boring. I find that by nine ‘o’ clock at night I am falling asleep to the crocheted scarf in my lap as I watch something on the telly. I used to be able to stay awake until 4am. This is ridiculous and a total waste of my time and brilliant personality which is being soaked up by A-Zinc vitamins and early nights. I had a complete meltdown the other night about this and went out for a Chinese and three Margaritas. Never felt so good in all my life until I got home and noticed my skin was burning. My inner forearm and outer thigh felt like they’d been scalded by hot water and yet this was not the case. I checked the areas and they looked absolutely normal: no rash, no cuts, no hives, no evidence of foul play and yet I burned like a whore in church. I looked to my friend Google for answers.

Self diagnosis



Celiac disease
Food intolerance
Foot and Mouth
Alien interference
A list of other made up diseases.
Or, the work of dark magic.

I decided to opt for the latter as I have no tolerance for intolerances. Isn’t that about right? You try and be good and then you have one little tiny bit of a cheat and get afflicted with a vile, scorching punishment. Thanks.

Attitude is everything

And having a bad one never did me any harm in the past. However, I thought I should give my brain a bit of a detox too. It makes sense to deal with the mental part first, right? Allegedly, meditation is extremely good for…well, apparently everything. Especially brains. I decided to start slowly and do one at night in bed that aids deep and relaxing sleep. The woman taking me on this hippy trip took so long to get to the point that I fell asleep before the good stuff started. I woke in the middle of the night being strangled by my headphones. Pointless. Normally, I would have put it down to useless psychobabble and never attempted such rubbish again but I’d read somewhere that people who can meditate develop really cool mind control skills that I’d rather like to have so I gave it another go the following night. I found some bloke on Spotify, lay down and listened.

The journey of self examination

‘Relax your whole body and do not open your eyes..’


‘Feel how tight the muscles are at the top of your scalp…’

‘Ow. OW! How have I not noticed this before?’

‘Concentrate only on your breathing…’

‘In, out. In, out. Shake it all about. ha! NO! I must concentrate. OK, breathe and breathe and Oh God I’m hyperventilating.’

‘And release your shoulders…’

‘Shit! I forgot to take my coat out of the washing machine! Damn I need that tomorrow. Shall I get up? But he said I can’t open my eyes. I’ll just open one and see what happens….’

‘Check that all the tension has left your body…’

‘What?’ I opened my eyes, lifted the covers and had a look. Couldn’t see any.

‘Feel yourself sinking into the mattress…’

‘Why has this bloke got a dodgy Essex accent? He’s probably some lightweight who’s taken a weekend course on hypnosis and now thinks he can make a few quid sending gullible chicks to sleep….’

‘Picture yourself walking down a beautiful path to a special place…’

‘Oh, right. Damn it. I’m behind now. Quickly walking down very bright path. Looks a bit like Disneyland or Oz. What does that mean? Maybe I’m out of touch with reality…hmmmm. Got to special place. White beach, blue sea, waiters with cocktail lists. Nice.’

‘What does the path look like?”

‘What? I’ve already been down the sodding path! I’m already at my special place. I mean why don’t they tell you to stay on the path at the frikkin’ beginning?  Bloody hell. Now I have to walk all the way back and I was just about to order a Pina Colada.’

‘Picture the flowers and shrubbery around you..’

‘I wonder if Spotify check out the credentials of these people? How do I know I’m not being groomed? Hypnotised into doing something I don’t want to do? Why has nobody thought of this?’

‘Now picture an elegant staircase..’

‘Hold on, I’m supposed to be on a bloody path with flowers. Mine had cacti, just sayin’. Now I’m supposed to be on an elegant staircase? Fine. OK, Elegant double, sweeping staircase. Quickly changed from swimwear into swishing frock and long gloves; martini in hand.’

‘Begin to walk down the steps..’

‘Oh yeah. Look at me on my staircase being all lah-de-dah…Total class. Look and weep, peeps!’

‘And now you’re at the bottom of the few steps..’

‘ERRRR, NO. No I’m not. What kind of elegant staircase are you thinking of, pal?’ A few steps? Mine has at least a hundred! Oh yeah, charlatan from Essex, only used to a two up, two down. Pillock.’

I flew downstairs, dropped my martini and tore my pretty frock. The tension flooded back like a tsunami. And all this was just in my imagination. I ripped my earphones out mid trance temper and went downstairs for a cuppa until 3 am. Problem is, I feel very spaced out and out of sync. Do you think I’m still under hypnosis?


Leave a reply

Come home to Texas‼??‼?

I want to, Janet. Really missing it. Not long…. I’ll be looking forward to one of your Cornish Pasties! xx

I suspect that you need to attend the Cowboy Church. They’ll fix you up.

I also suspect that you’re being influenced winter and that is the cause of your malaise. The sun rises late and it sets early that far north and every day feels as if it’s 5 hours long. I do remember. However WRITING is said to fix all of those symptoms. I’m not saying that – people do. No I am not going to identify my informants. One does not do that. It’s just not done…

You are right on all counts, LL. As usual.

I hate feeling like this. However, I am taking your informants advice seriously and I shall begin to WRITE it all out. Tell them to be ready….

Hold on: I’ve got muscles on my scalp?
No wonder hats never fit me, properly.

Meditation, schmeditation.
A punch up the bracket and a good talking to from the current Mrs Masher, normally sorts me out.

I know! That’s what I thought, Masher. Apparently, according to our Essex hypno, there are lots of little muscles in your scalp that soak up tension. Get the current Mrs Masher to give you a head massage. However, you’ll have to buy her a new dishwasher first. 😉

I agree with LL, wisely. But look, you need to take out your frustration by suing this Essex Svengali and then by buying a yacht on the proceeds. Problem? Solution.

Always agree with LL, LSP (<---- what a lot of letters... men of letters?) it is the wisest of moves or the wolf will have you for breakfast. Yeah, I might nip down to the Sugar Hut in Brentwood. He's bound to hang out there trying it on with the botox birds. I will make him PAY then I can have by beautiful special place AKA BIG YACHT. Thank you for your sound advice.

The good news is that meditation is pretty effective. It works for me. The bad news is that it took me YEARS to get here. I’m a bit thick so hopefully it won’t take you nearly as long.

Well, so I’ve heard, M, but I don’t think I have the patience to focus. Maybe I should go to a class or something, because that would make for interesting posts I’m sure! 🙂

I could have predicted were you were impossible to hypnotise, Jules. “Not suggestible” is how practitioners would describe you. Women like you are supposedly very difficult to seduce, which is not necessarily a bad thing – I make no judgements! In the meantime, rub some Nivea on your burning thigh. 🙂

Right! I am not of the right mind to hypnotise at all. Ha! Not suggestible! Quite so, Mr. Gorilla Bananas, you are quite the psychologist.

Nivea creme! Such a wise Gorilla! 😉

* but tailspins are awesome:

* instagram turned me into a insomniac. never been an insomniac in my life before. i laughed at the Instagram Insomniacs Club when i first started instagram…

* magic is neither dark nor light. magic exists because Gargamel must be stopped.

* click here for seven minutes in heaven:

* click here for an elegant staircase:

it’s not spam! love ya *)

If I was much younger I would learn to fly fighter jets and spend my days tailspinning!

I invited a deep breath into my nose and sneezed. She sounds a bit prissy – I can’t relax to this woman. She made my elbows feel funny. Oh wait…CROISSANTS! Enter the dark magic! Sac magique!

And forever you will stay awake to gramming….. I must get back there.

Oh yes! As staircases go that is the one and only.

You are never spam, my sweet. Love ya *)

I wish I’d read these satirical whimsies a few weeks ago. Hilarious! All but the no-alcohol part. That sounds wrong. I’d sleep all day, too, if I did that. Besides, I need the energy from the booze for snow shoveling. We are deep winter here. And cheap flights to the Mexican Riviera apparently don’t exist. I checked.

Grunt! You need to go sledging! Preferably after a couple of bottles of Malbec. Trust me. 🙂

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