Welcome to the first ever guest post on Swinging like a rusty gate. Set your front face to excited because it is by the awesome Pish Posh. I first met Pish Posh through another blog, and clicked through from her comments and got to know her. She drew me a picture for one of my posts once, but I was already hooked. She has a charming, fun, and sincere style that you can't help but enjoy. So ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the page Pish Posh.
You know Australians are
different. They drive on the wrong side of the road, they get flagrant with their vowels, they’re vague with directions –
Walkabout? Outback? Could you be a little more specific please? – they make tear-jerker movies like
Red Dog that help me remove my mascara without even trying, and they’ve held certain of my family members hostage for years. And they have really big spiders. Crikey!
Apparently, they also have something called “pen-licenses.” I learned this when Rusty sent in his stories to our new book collection
All Cracked Up. His stories are some of my favorites – sweet, funny, and affectionate.
In “Dogs Cry Out in the Night” for example, he tells the sweet story of his dad masturbating the family pet. Well, not exactly. But sort of. Let’s just say his story includes the line “How many years of school do vets have to do just to wank off dogs?”
Mr. Rusty of Manliness, in “Beards: Holding My Soup since 2003,” he about how manly his face is, or at least its ability to grow hair. In fact, bearded men are so manly because they think about boobs a lot. Because like a chia pet that just keeps on growing, the more a man thinks about breasts the more his testosterone spikes and the more his facial hair grows. So the next time you see a bearded fella, you can be sure he’s thinking about boobies. In fact, some men just grew a beard by reading the word boobies. From the US to Australia, men are thinking about boobs and growing their beards. I’m glad I could help.
One part of this story that you won’t see though is his reference to a pen-license. Because what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about? And I made him take it out. Apparently Australians get pen-licenses because the government is afraid of their rampant vowel usage. And endless letter-writing and graffiti-by-pen. Actually in grammar school, when their handwriting is legible they can get permission to stop using a pencil and begin using a pen. HOLY HELL BALLS!
What if we had licenses for everything like that? I would like my boyfriend to have a license to go to the grocery store. Because 45 minutes to find the salami is too long - and no that is not a euphemism. If it was, 45 minutes of
hide the salami would be just fine, if you know what I mean. His problem isn’t hiding it, his problem is
finding it. Like the socks he searches the house for, and are, gasp, in his sock drawer. Although if he had to get a license to do the grocery shopping, he would intentionally fail and I’d end up doing the shopping, so nothing would change. This is apparently his scheme on loading the dishwasher.
But how about licenses for other things? I think some people should have a license to dress themselves in the morning. A license for how to behave in public, and a license for how to be a good sibling. But, the most important license of all would be the license to have children. Now before you jump down my throat, y’all
know there are people out there who just shouldn’t keep making more of themselves. Smurf Village is full.
But thank god we have pen-licenses. Otherwise, we’d have all these kids running around with permanently bad
penmanship. And that, ladies and gentlemen, would be the game-changer.
Anyway, so Rusty can grow a beard, used to have a well-satisfied canine, and is on vacation. Show him you love him. Check out our book!
Amazon page for
All Cracked Up
Junipaya.com for our publishing company Junipaya Productions
Pish Posh.com for my site if you’d like to debate the value of pen-licenses with me
Grab the code on the sidebar to add our button to your page:
Much Love to Rusty-Fans
Pish Posh
Thanks Pish! By the way my spell checker went nuts with all the missing vowels. Get cracking on the comments for your chance to win a copy of my book. Next week we have a new blogger to the scene
