“Notice of Marriage Shenanigans” by Suzie Speaks

[Secrets revealed can be a disaster like finding out a friend is a cousin. Of course, a public notice doesn’t guarantee a confession.]

Suzie Speaks

So, can you tell me if you are related to your fiancé?”

Yesterday The Bloke and I went to the neighbouring town to declare our Notice of Marriage.

The process is essentially there to legally declare our intention to marry within the next twelve months. However, as simple as this initially sounded, I soon discovered that it would be a little more complicated than telling someone and getting a certificate.

We live in a small town on the outskirts of Birmingham. We’re getting married at a venue in Birmingham and because neither of us have a religious faith we have opted for a registrar from Birmingham Register Office to officiate the ceremony instead of a vicar.

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“Fake I.D.” by Sauce Box

[It’s difficult to learn the customs. I once teleported directly into a bar, but that scared too many people and I’m not actually supposed to do that unless it’s an emergency. But then, when standing on line, I have to remind myself to always lie. Once, the bouncer asked my age so I told the truth which was that I’m 500 years old. That was a problem because I look like I’m 15. I went back to the caves. — Zawmb’yee Nuje]

Sauce Box

Over the weekend, I went out to the bars with some of my friends. We did not want to pay the price of an Uber, (knowing our wallets would already be taking a beating at the bars) and were in desperate need of a designated driver.  My sister decided to be the one to make Christmas come early. She wanted to bring her friend so they could use their fake I.D.s. They were supplying the ride, so I had no complaints.

We make it downtown and head to the bar we planned on staying at for the night. After waiting in line for a few minutes and people-watching all the drunkies, (always fun to do, until I become one of them, that is) we make it to the front of the line. My sister’s friend’s fake I.D. works like a charm, and my sister is up next. She hands the bouncer the…

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“A dyslexic heart and set of intentions” by Psychologist Mimi

“A dyslexic heart and set of intentions” by Psychologist Mimi

It’s best to clone yourself and do both. If your clone seems to do better, switch places if she doesn’t like her choice.

psychologistmimi

I’m quite ambivalent as to whether songs of the ’90s rise to the level of being worthy of a special club night. I get the 80s dances. They are silly and at times bordering on the stupid. Take the “Safety Dance“, for instance. I get the 70s. No one sits through a Gloria Gaynor song. We all know when it’s time to belt out “I Will Survive.” The ’90s? Well, I suppose you can go from “Smells like Teen Spirit” to “Hit Me Baby one More Time“.


Anyway, I’m not here to wax philosophical about ’90s music. I’m ambivalent and ok with that. I did have a ’90s earworm this weekend that helped me realize I need to integrate several life paths and wishes into one journey, for now.  That earworm was “Dyslexic Heart“.  It is a silly song and…

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Zawmb’yee Takes Over the Blog

Zawmb’yee Takes Over the Blog

The Sapiosexual Blog In Space and In Time

I’m Zawmb’yee from the future where the blog destroyed the world. I’m sorry we did that. Naztko came back to try to fix history. I know that he fails, so I’m taking over the study of the old blog that created the catastrophe. I will expell him and try to do better. In the meantime here’s where in the old blog, I take it over just after Doug almost gets killed. Here’s my account. And also for the record I give you James Ziohat’s blog that made us worry about him. The old Zawmb’yee says:

ENTRY 69

I know it’s unprofessional for the stenographer to speak in her own voice but I wanted to make clear that I’m typing in the blog while Doug recuperates. Most of the time, I’ll just transcribe his words for him. Oh yes, in case you don’t know, it’s me (I?), Zawmb’yee, posting this stuff…

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Cherries

Cherries

I taste the cherries
new and succulent
like you when I
had you for a salad
of me, and there were
many things to lunch on

Succulent days I remember
when you came to my table

There was a lust
to your musk
while you served me pie
desire

I remember
succulent you

I tasted the cherries
you brought me

I tasted you, and

what will you
bring me now?

I wait for succulent you.

— Zawmb’yee Nuje