Canada’s top humour blogger is appearing in a movie. And in case she doesn’t turn up, Tiggy is there too.

Part 1 – Preparation

It’s not the first time I’ve been in front of the cameras. I’ve accidentally wandered onto many movie sets and live news reports, usually resulting in scuffles and clapperboards being thrown in my direction. But this time is different – I’m going to act in a movie!

I’m so excited. I’m very honoured to be working with such fine people. I’m sure the cast and crew will be pleased to work with me too! Hopefully they’ve forgotten all about me being thrown out of their last movie premiere party.

This time, persistence has paid off. I got a call from the casting office to say for fuck’s sake Tiggy, stop spamming us with e-mails, we’ve got your bloody name on the list. We’ll let you know when to turn up on set.

This is going to be awesome!

I must point out, dear readers, that my role is as yet unknown. By that I mean I’m a background cast member. By that I mean I don’t have any lines. OK, I’m an extra. But they’re important too! They perform a vital role as crowds and miscellaneous pedestrians. And like all good actors, I need to prepare.

The biggest challenge facing us extras, I mean, background actors, is to understand our purpose. We are the random faces in the crowd and the mysterious unknown characters behind the stars. We give the movie depth and substance.

If a movie is like a trifle, the main cast is like the custard and cream. And the background cast is the undercurrent of jelly gently supporting them (not just currant jelly – any sort of jelly really).

The custard and cream are the best bits, but you can’t have trifle without jelly. And I guess that makes the crew the sponge fingers? Um.
Anyway, I’m going to abandon this trifle analogy and just reiterate that extras are very important.

As well as mentally prepare, I have to be in peak physical condition. My rigorous detox program, low-fat diet and calisthenics workouts lasted all of two days, so for now I’m just cutting back on cheese. I will consume my weekly ration of cocktails at the weekend cast parties. Weekend cast parties! And they can’t throw me out this time!

I also have an excuse to spend $$$ on fancy hair cuts, make-up and manicures. I am beginning to understand the pressure a movie star must feel to look good all the time. Suppose the director shoots a scene with my feet in it? My toenails have to be perfect and nicely painted, just in case.

And I can’t drink anything other than French mineral water – I have to think about my complexion you know! And I’m hoping I get a nice trailer, I need space to prepare.

Oh, I feel actor’s burnout coming on. I’m off to borrow some prescription drugs and visit my masseuse…

Will Tiggy make it to the set without going off the rails? What role has the director got in store for her? Is she sure she hasn’t been duped into making some greasy porno? Will she get a nice trailer? Find out in Part Two! 

Their casting couch is beckoning over at Humor-Blogs.com

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A poet recently won $100,000 in a literary competition. $100,000 just for writing poems! I’ll have some of that. I can’t be bothered to write long rambling epics a la Wordsworth and Milton, so I’m going make my fortune writing haiku poetry.

A haiku poem has three lines. Each line has to contain five syllables for the first line, then seven for the next line and five for the last. Even someone as numerically challenged as me can count to seven. Just.

The poem has to skillfully convey a feeling, image or moment in time. Japanese scholars spend years studying haiku. I’ve spent twenty minute on Wikipedia. That should suffice.

I’ll have a stab and see what meaningful imagery and Zen-like wisdom I can conjure up, using a normal day in Tiggyland as inspiration.

*Ahem*

Blimey, this haiku writing is a doddle!

Well, that was my day in haiku. I think that effort must be worth at least $100,000. Would you, dear readers, care to share your haiku gems?

But before you go off and scribble down your poetic musings, check this out! I am taking part in a Blog Carnival today – no idea what that is, but I assume it involves candy apples and children vomiting on the ferris wheel. Click here to join in the carnival capers at Edge of Sanity!

Oh, and happy Thanksgiving day, Canucks!

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Writing, Poems & Big Words | 14 Comments »

11. Schadenfreude

Not to be confused with shaftenfreund, which involves Bavarian sausages and hairy men called Gunter, schadenfreude is when the misfortune of others results in you having a bloody good laugh at their expense, making you feel better about your own pathetic life.

For example. Your so-called friends decide to hold a massive party. It’s going to be the best party in town! But your probation officer forbids you from going. It’s not fair! You will miss all the fun. You are sad.

The party is in full swing. But suddenly a huge hurricane blows through town, sweeping up the partygoers and washing them away into the sea to be lost forever. Their party is totally ruined! Lol. You feel much better.

Coming soon on Tiggyblog: Tiggy tries her hand at the ancient art of Haiku poetry! Then makes her movie acting debut (no, really!) How much of a mess can she make of that? Find out soon… and don’t forget to to subscribe to keep up with the latest madness!

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It’s nice to be complimented by men, isn’t it? Unless you’re a straight man. Although don’t knock what you haven’t tried.

And I do get compliments. A twinkling smile and a charming “You look nice today!” or “I’d really like to bang you!” brightens up my day no end. Unfortunately, most of the men doing the complimenting are usually quite mature…

Oh, What A Lovely War

I was sitting at a bar hoping to catch the eye of the hot barman when an elderly gentleman sat next to me and ordered a Guinness. He seemed innocent enough. You know those old guys who can drink endless pints of Guinness and talk for hours about nothing? Well, he talked for hours about nothing. His false teeth were wearing down at an alarming rate. I smiled sympathetically, hoping he’d clear off so I could share some quality time with the barman.

But then the old devil dropped his killer chat-up line like a doodlebug on a bus queue. “My dear, you are the image of my first love… she died in the Blitz”. Oh nice. Did I look like her before or after the Blitz?

Then I felt a bony hand on my knee. Ever had one of those evenings?

Dead Pigeon Fancier

The boozy company party was no better. I had invested my evening chatting up lovely Rick from Marketing only for him to slope away (well, flee) with some pathetic excuse about having to vomit in the washroom. His place was instantly filled by Charlie the janitor, who swooped on me like a gnarly old crow with a pacemaker.

Initially Charlie behaved like a perfect gentleman, bringing me Bacardi Breezers on demand and entertaining me with stories about the Korean War, garbage disposal systems and the number of dead pigeons he’d pulled from the water tank.

Then I saw that decrepit, garbage-stained hand reaching towards my knee. I decided to join Rick in the washroom.

Rockin’ the Joint

My latest wrinkly Romeo was a guitarist in a rock band that played at my local bar the other night (maybe I should stop going to bars). Under the impression he had the same rock star pulling power as Mick Jagger he slid up to me, flashed a smile and demanded the barman give me a beer. I’d prefer the barman gave me something else, but never mind.

This old rocker had obviously ingested many substances in his lifetime and he reeked of weed. There’s always room for another stoned, drunk man in my crush club! Rather than bore me senseless with tales of the road he just swigged his beer, put his skinny arm around me and asked if I wanted to go home with him. I wasn’t aware that seniors’ homes allowed visitors after midnight.

The barman was laughing too hard to help to this damsel in distress. Oh dear, I was having another one of those evenings.

I guess it’s nice to know there are men with breath in their body (just) that still find me attractive. That most of my suitors are either old, drunk, stoned or frequently all three is less flattering.

Let’s just hope they’re still interested when I hit 70…

They behave like perfect gentlemen until the lights go down over at Humor-Blogs.com

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