Love is patient, love is kind...

my dickhead

Dickhead is my older sister. Pretty much, I call her Dickhead because she looks like a penis.

Fine, she doesn't look like a penis. Dickhead is a stunning version of Sandra Bullock with deep brown eyes that merge effortlessly with her well-groomed eyebrows. She is a spectacular mother.

Dickhead is a badass, there is no other way of putting it. I  mean, she doesn’t carry out ridiculous feats of bad-assery, like fighting invisible rabid spider monkeys, she just has her shit together.

Dickhead is loyal, and I know that I can always count on her. She can get anyone out of a sticky situation using only her right handed bitch-slap. A bitch-slap so intense that it would even make Chuck Norris start to menstruate and cry like a little bitch. It's a magic bullet of pure power. Everyone respects it. Everyone fears it.

She is widely hilarious. When Wildabeast was about six, Dickhead taught her some valuable facts of life. Like, that sometimes you have to do things for the sole benefit of another human being, which is why, she explained, blow jobs were invented.

The Dickhead story started a few years ago, before Dickhead's nugget was spawned. It was a rare occasion as the entire family (including attachments) was present. We were all sitting at the family table having dinner. My father started to moustache something about each of his daughters...."this one is pretty and this one is smart and this one is slutty"

He gets to my older sister, points at her and just says:

and she was like:
And the rest of us were like:

And then he was like:

"Listen, you're the biggest dickhead I know"

"Look at you! You're being a dickhead right now!"

"You're the epitome of a dickhead, everyone knows it. We talk about it all the time!"

"You're just such a dickhead!"

At this point, the rest of us were falling over ourselves laughing. My older sister's head had exploded and my Dad was moustaching about how she is the mother of all dickheads louder and louder in order to be heard over everyone.

It was here that he explained how she is a dickhead because she knows what she wants, doesn't take no for an answer, blablablbalbla. My brother-in-law interjected in an effort to halt my older sister from further combustion. The man took a plunge of death and corrected my father.

Then things got super awesome because my father asked:

"oh, then what's a dickhead???"


I have no cartoon for you guys today so here is a robot committing suicide.

like hugging a cactus

I do not like hugs. I never know what to do with my arms. Or my hips, I sometimes end up in this strange sideways position like I'm trying to hide a boner which doesn't make any sense because, vagina. Also, I always end up going in the same direction as my hugger during the approach which can get super awkward.

The whole situation just makes me uneasy, it makes my butt sweat a little and just generally stresses me out. 

I think maybe I'm like a koala when it comes to hugging. Sure, it may look like you want to hug me however, upon closer inspection you will note a scratched out sign around my neck that says "beware! I bite!"

Something I hate even more than hugs is when girls say "I love you" to me. It puts a weird taste in my mouth and makes me want to throw my uterus on the floor.

reasons are for boring people

I only play rock, paper, middle finger; mother fuckers don't see that shit coming.

my wildabeast

The Wildabeast: Holy batshit, batman she is weird.  Click here for an introduction.

This morning at Startbucks they were offering free lattes to people who introduced themselves to the barista. I introduced myself to the barista under my Starbucks name, Anastasia Beaverhousen. Instantly I was reminded of the late Karen Walker and how much my youngest sister, the wildabeast,  reminds me of her. Both of their Pikachus are like Vegas, high traffic and full of glitter.

The wildabeast is beautiful, which is really her only option, being such a freak. She has an artist's eye for men who blur the lines between art and genitals. A late bloomer though, as I remember having to explain to her at the ridiculous age of about 11 what kissing was when, after catching her with her tiny ear jammed up against my older sister's door and asking her why she was spying - she explained to me that my older sister had been 'whispering right in a boy's mouth' all day - RIGHT IN IT! And she'd gone all Nancy Drew, determined to figure out what the secret was and report back up to Mystery Creek.

The wildabeast now dresses impeccably and consistently. But this wasn't always the case. Growing up she had two outfits, naked, and beauty and the beast underwear. When she was about five during lunch one day she had the following conversation with my Grandmother:

> wildabeast: Grandma, why doesn’t your skin fit your face?

> Grandmother: because I am old, little! 

> wildabeast: How old are you? You look like you're about 5 billion years old. 

> Grandmother: Oh, I don't remember anymore, little. I just tell people I'm as old as my skin hangs. 

> wildabeast: You're stupid. Let me look in the back of your underwear, it will say your age. Mine say AGE:5, see? [puts the underwear she was previously just wearing on the table, as proof]

But that's wildabeast, and she's still pretty weird. She thought her hiccups were her teeth coughing. She called her farts 'butt dust'.

maybe i hate you

Most of the time, before 10am I'm bordering the line between a complete caffeine induced nervous breakdowns and delicate retardation rendering me unable to figure out how stairs work. Last week I was the latter, dramatically.

Masked by enormous amounts of coffee, I went about my days being extremely angry and incredibly stupid about exceptionally important things, like seedless grapes.

Proof: I walked out of the house in just my tights, having forgotten to put on my skirt.

I was so clumsy I am now convinced that my ancestry comprises of species with a different number of arms. Like an octopus.

Proof: I was eating a banana when I got an itch on the side of my face. I stuck the banana in my ear. *high five self* 


When I was little I always thought that the batman theme song was "Bananananananana" cause he like, really liked bananas or something.  

For more information on the D.A.R.D movement, please visit Mayor Gia


These are all so amazing I can't handle it! 

Stay tuned for the winner, your suggestions are welcomed! 


From the students of  http://www.redheadedgeisha.com/ I present to you: 

drawn by Adrianna, the princess manatee: 

drawn by Haw Wei, the "Mean-a-tee"

drawn by Nick, the "princess-tee"

drawn by the infamous Mayor Gia...her name is Melissa. She's not tiny, but she thinks she is so please don't critisize her, Gia doesnt want her getting another complex. 

made by Stephanie over at Clay Baboons. She makes these amazing clay creatures & people to go along with her regularly hysterical stories.

made by Valli Ann Warry ...how amazing is this!? This is talent. I want to put it in my underwear I like it so much. 

drawn by the lovely eef-inc, one of my very first followers and favourite cartoons on the web. 

drawn by the insane JRose of Cheeseblarg. I can never get enough of this woman. I would do things to live in her pocket. 

drawn by TheChimp herself, one of my favourite people on the internet. 

no assholes allowed

God dammit depression is depressing.

I am by no means an expert - and I realise I am making a sweeping generalisation - but for every second person suffering with depression, it seems to be the case that at some point in their life they were surrounded by arseholes.

I do not like assholes. They make me wish I had more middle fingers.

how to flirt well

I am a terrible flirt. When I was single, my attempts in flirtation were such disasters that my vagina would reach out from between my legs and slap me across the face (splat!).

I was - and still am - convinced that everyone else's dates were like short romantic comedies. With perfectly timed clumsy head buts that predictably lead to the magical moment of their first kiss. My version was something more like me tripping over something ridiculous like a leaf, falling in a puddle of hobo crack barf, and nervously sweating so much my pickachu smelled like crab cakes.

I mean, one time a poor soul went in to kiss me and I just kept talking right into his mouth like some kind of strung out schizophrenic. And then I must have said something funny, cause I then proceeded to laugh in his mouth - right in it. Talking and laughing, in his mouth. At this point my vagina wasn't even mad at me…he* was just disappointed. 

But my story ends well, as I am getting married to a man, a thing of wonder. 

*yep, my cunt's a dude