Watching the USA is Like Watching a Toddler Play in His Poop

After a designating December a whole month of ungratefulness, I thought it was time to take a break before I started changing up this blog and dragging it into 2017, which apparently, is the year of the cock. This makes me happy as I’ve been able to use the word ‘cock’ gratuitously in my first sentence and feel justified doing so.

angel-the-cock

This is my own very baby cock named Angel. I expect him to be crowing by May. Viva 2017!

While the rest of the world looks away from the horror in Syria, distracted by the flash of orange that seems to have snuck into their collective peripheral vision and become less of a mild distraction and, instead, more of a unifying obsession, I plan my literary success with new pink spectacles. More about my spectacles to come, but first let me lay out my plans for the near future for myself and you, of course, should you wish to tag along. I promise that, if nothing else, it will be a humorous and somewhat twisted ride.

This blog is going to become a bit more personal now as so much of what happens to me on a day to day basis, no matter how trivial it seems to me, is easy to make interesting for others. It also inspires me to wax lyrical about larger, more wordly events that one would expect me to feel unqualified to comment on. Pah! I am generous of breast and opinion and I share both with the world as often as possible. It’s amazing how having large breasts makes one’s opinion seem so much more valuable when talking to those who love breasts but not my opinion.

boobs-with-opinions

These are my very own breasts and as you can see, I use them to my advantage when attention is required.

So, let’s get on with it. Last week I visited a lovely town in Mexico called Merida. There also happened to be the USA Presidential inauguration while I was there. His inauguration seems to have lit the fuse of pink hat millinery. I suppose when he said he’d help small businesses, he never considered that the factory farming of pink pussy hat knitting pensioners would become one of the first successes. Anyway, from the sea of pink heads on north American bodies, I got the distinct impression that the wall Trump’s planning to build on the Mexican border is far more about keeping people in, than people out.

donald-is-an-arsehole

The day of the pink pussy hats as it was in Mexico

There’s a fuck of a lot of USA citizens enjoying their lives and spending their money in Mexico and Mexicans seem to welcome them.  Who can blame them? Mexico is beautiful and they don’t seem to give many fucks about the wall, except to be laughing about the fact that there are people stupid enough to believe they’d pay for it. C’mon, let’s face it. Mexico had universities (the 1500’s) before the United States of America was even a wet dream.

Aside from the cartels, who are like the USA’s early mobsters on steroids, the country is way ahead of the USA in so many areas that are so very important – whether you’re talking about public transportation, public services, affordable health care or separation of church and state. In fact, European industries are investing hundreds of millions of dollars to build factories there in the near future. Toyota and Michelin have committed over 500 million USD each and German company Brose nearly 200 million dollars in 2017, just to mention a few. I also had a lovely lunch in an Irish pub that seems to be doing very well for itself. So USA, have at it. Build that wall. No one else seems to care.

dog-pissing-on-wall

 

While I was in Merida, I got my eyes tested. I don’t see far away very well. Haven’t for a long time. I got glasses many years back when I was told I needed them to get my driver’s license. I didn’t bother getting a driver’s license until I was nearly 40. I don’t like driving. I hated them and have never worn them since. Don’t worry, I don’t currently drive. You’re safe on the road. After my other half got sick of becoming embarrassed by me waving enthusiastically at total strangers because their shape resembled a friend’s (that’s how I recognise people at a distance), I thought I should get my eyes tested.

After much humming and hawing at the opticians, I found ‘fabulous’. By fabulous I mean a sexy pink pair of sunglasses with pink leopard print on the inside of the arms. I only needed prescription sunglasses as the only time I need to see far away is in daylight and I always wear sunglasses. I got my eyes tested by a very handsome and charming ophthalmologist, who told me, through my lovely translator, that the muscles in my eyes have gotten weak due to long hours in front of a computer, looking at something that is the same distance away all the time. Apparently, I need to do eye exercises. Peyelates. Hahahah! I made myself laugh.

sexy-glasses

These are the fabulous glasses!

When we picked up the finished products ( I was one of three in our group getting glasses), I was not happy. Wearing them made me dizzy and I couldn’t be arsed to spend any more of my Mexican holiday messing around with my eyes. I’ll try to do the fucking exercises. So, I had them replace the original sunglasses lenses and bought the sunglasses as they were. I’m still blind, but I have the fanciest pair of sunglasses I’ve ever possessed now. So, not only was Mexico fabulous, but I brought some fabulous home with me.

Speaking of which, one last thing. As we were going through immigration on the Mexican border, we looked behind us. There was an actual clown car – not joking – full of Mexican clowns right behind us. Now, I know you may not believe me without a photo but we were at immigration and weren’t allowed to take photos. What I want to know though is how the fuck Mexican clowns in full make up are allowed to pass through immigration. Do they have clown photos in their passports? For your benefit, I tracked down a photo of the clown car and stole it from one of the actual clowns’ Facebook pages.

quddus-the-clown

Photo credit to Quddus the Clown from Chetumal, Mexico

Oh yes, and I will be starting to write my first book in February. Well, the truth is that it’s not my first actual book. I’ve been a writing whore and wrote a book last year, which some marketing firm will claim was written by whoever they are using to tout their products. I get no credit. Thankfully. I got paid. That was sufficient.

Much love from your Badass Auntie

 

 

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