And now, a beautiful viral e-mail poem celebrating the joy of the season, from our very own Rainbow Princess!

Holiday season is a time of wonder
A child’s happy smile, a jolly Santa
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Or a juicy turkey with all the trimmings!

The reindeer prance through the snowy eve
Have you been a good boy and girl this year?
See what’s in your Christmas stocking
Live cam sluts in tiny panties!

XXX

XXXX

Carol singers gather round the tree
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Colourful lights twinkle in the night
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What wonderful, happy Christmas cheer!

XX

Love and generic meds,
Rainbow Princess

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· Can you get high on hemp oil smoothies?
· When was the golden age of porn?
· Why is part of Greenland now a suburb of Boston?
· How can you get your neighbour arrested using snow?

If you’ve ever asked yourself these questions, you will need a copy of It’s The Stuff That Comes Out Of My Brain, a fun-filled compilation of weird observations, strange-but-not-true facts and hilarious stories that will leave you with a warm fuzzy feeling inside. And a bit of a headache.

It’s The Stuff That Comes Out Of My Brain includes Tiggy’s best ever stories and musings (with all the spellings done right and everything), plus a whole bunch of new and never-seen-before anecdotes, tall tales and drunken drivel!

And it’s coming soon! Well, as soon as Tiggy stops playing on the internet and bloody well gets on with it.

To express your immense excitement and sign up for alerts, send Tiggy an e-mail!

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1. Horse Porn: A History

2. You and Ebola

3. The Hitman’s Handbook

4. Rophynol – A Buyers Guide

5. Wet Nursing Your Grandchildren

6. Pump Him Hard

7. Make It Look Like An Accident

8. Fodor’s Top Ten Whores of Old Amsterdam

9. Pisstory – The History of Public Washrooms

10. Living With Sores

11. Bus Crash: A Pictorial Journey

13. Jihad Made Easy

14. Grow Your Own Brain Worms

15. 30-Day Tripe Diet

16. Kill It, Strip It, Wear It

17. A Red Nose and A Strap-On: Diary of A Sex Clown

18. Human Trafficking for Dummies

19. Cooking Cats the Italian Way

20. Hairy Potter and the Cock Ring of Doom

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Have you seen my muse anywhere? He’s an overweight, hairy guy called Dave. I know muses are usually beautiful Greek goddesses, but Dave was cheaper. I thought we would work well together. He wasn’t bothered about grammar rules and all that verb-participle stuff, but he liked a good laugh and a cold beer. So I took my chances with Dave.

Maybe it’s my fault. I didn’t appreciate him when he was around. To be honest, he spent most of the time asleep on my couch, waking only to scratch his ass and shout “Have ya written anything yet? No? Get on with it! Write about bees or something.” Then he would fall back into a drunken coma. Did I mention he liked his beer?

Dave might have been drunk and asleep most of the time, but whenever I felt my inspiration slipping away I could rely on him to slap me on the back, belch into my ear, and give me a few words of wisdom:

“Get drunk. Works for me!”
“Copy someone else’s stuff!”
“Go for a walk. I’ll come with ya, if we can stop at the hot dog stand.”
“Drink more.”
“Why don’t ya write about bees?”

Sometimes Dave would disappear for days on end. He would always let me know where he was going; he was good like that. He would leave post-it notes on my desk that read “Bored. See you Tuesday” or “Gone to a rock festival – back when sober”. Oh well, at least Dave’s absence gave me an excuse to procrastinate. I’d work on that storyboard when he got back.

One time, Dave attended a muse convention. Muses from around the world came together, shared their literary horror stories, and took the piss out of their protégés. There were drinking games and hot dog-eating competitions too. Dave returned from the convention hungover and smelling of mustard. I had hoped he’d learned something, and would be bursting with inspiration.
“I got nuthin’ for ya. Wake me up in a few days and we’ll work on that bee story.”

This time, Dave didn’t leave a note. He just left. Maybe he read my latest script and lost the will to live. Maybe he was tired of all my penis jokes (and no man, not even Dave, can persuade me that a penis is not funny). Maybe he is now asleep on someone else’s couch, smelling of beer and mumbling about bees.

If you have my muse, please, please can you send him back? I promise to be a more attentive student. I promise to get that story finished. Tell him I have hot dogs.

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Make your heart smile with Rainbow Princess’s inspiring viral e-mails!

What is a true friend?
A friend knows your hopes and dreams
But a true friend knows you inside out!
Your friend isn’t always by your side,
But a true friend will always be behind!

A true friend will give as much as they receive
And will always lend an ear, a hand or a tongue!
If you’re grumpy, sad or blue
A true friend will always come for you!

How many friends do YOU have?

Are they special?

Or are they disposable?

Something AMAZING will happen to you and your TRUE FRIEND

TOMORROW! AT 1pm!

Eastern Time, that is.

**It REALLY WILL!**

A good friend will bail you out of jail….
A true friend will be with you in your cell!
And will love to share their bunk with you!

A true friend is a gift from God!
If you don’t send this message to 5 friends
You will make God ANGRY.

If you don’t have 5 friends, God is already ANGRY with you.

Send your TRUE FRIEND this message!!!
If they don’t return it, they are NOT your friend.
They are mean and spread LIES. And STDs.
You know that itch you’ve had for a while?

Send THIS MESSAGE to your NEW true friend instead!

NOW! Otherwise that thing I mentioned that is happening tomorrow at 1pm (Eastern time) won’t happen. I mean it.

Beautiful wishes,
Rainbow Princess

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Oh My God, Oh My God, Oh My God, Oh My God
Oh My God, Oh Your God, Oh His God, Oh Her God…
Pavement, “Shady Lane”

Do you believe in God? You would think I was a flippin’ nun, the amount of times I say “Oh My God!” And I’m not just talking about shouting it out during those sexy fun time moments. For such a cynical, probably-ex-communicated agnostic, I spend a lot of time referring to “God”. Have you noticed how many silly sayings are associated with the Big Guy?

Godspeed: How fast is that? For an old guy, I can’t imagine God is that fast. Maybe he has a chariot pulled by angels. Naked angels. If I was God, that’s how I’d want to travel.

Maybe he drives a Porsche. Can you get cars in Heaven? How would they get up there? When a car dies, does its oily little soul drive through the Pearly Gates? Or does Heaven have its own car manufacturing industry? So there are factories and manual labour… in Heaven? So much for lazing around on fluffy clouds eating Philadelphia dip.

On the other hand, if God is omnipresent he is already everywhere, so He doesn’t have to move at all. This phrase needs a rethink.

God Botherer: One thing worse than a salesman (or a “corporate account executive” as they call themselves now) is a salesman selling God. They eagerly chatter on about Jesus and Good News and His Plan like it’s the first time anyone has told you about it.

You then waste ten minutes ranting about how you read the Bible but couldn’t follow the plot, got beaten up at Bible study as a kid, and how St. Paul said eating shrimp is evil but you like shrimp so stuff what he thinks… and all this time the God Botherer smiles and patiently waits for you to either convert or die of apoplexy.

Is hiring these dicks the best marketing plan God has? If I was God, I’d hire the most kickass marketing people I could, get some prime-time TV advertising going and perhaps sponsor a hockey team or something. It would be cool to be on a squad with God on your side, literally.

Godawful: The God Botherer told me God Is Love, so how can God be awful too? You mean he was lying? You could argue God is awful because he lets earthquakes and tsunamis and premature ejaculation happen. But isn’t that the fault of Mother Nature? So Mother Nature is awful! But she invented rainbows and baby rabbits and smokable herbs, so isn’t she good as well? I’m confused.

Here’s an idea I bet even the Pope hasn’t thought of – supposing God and Mother Nature are married, and are both behind this creation lark? It’s easy to see how trouble starts…

God: Damn you, woman, I told you not to fiddle with that storm cloud! You’ve washed away an entire civilization. I’ve been working on that all week!
Mother: You and your silly little human experiments. When are you going to do something useful, like clean up that oil spill in my ocean? Honestly, playing with tankers at your age…
God: Well if you hadn’t turned those stupid dinosaurs into oil, there wouldn’t be oil spills!
Mother: Dinosaurs were your idea!
God: Try telling that to those frikkin’ Creationists!
Mother: Do you want me to send a hurricane to sort ‘em out?
God: Oooh, yes. There’s nothing good on TV tonight anyway… apart from the hockey.

Oh dear, I’ve taken God’s name in vain. Am I going to Hell? Good. It beats working in a Porsche factory.

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Fuck. I’m so bored of that swear word. I use the same old insults every minute of every day. Fuck off, screw you, suck a swan, blah, blah, etc. These insults are getting old and tired!

Luckily for everyone, I’ve come up with a variety of new swears, insults and handy phrases you can use for your everyday rants and road rage showdowns.

1. Suck My Invisible Cock – This is a useful insult for ladies. Or men without cocks.

2. Dick Trap – a nice change from the usual slut or whore.

3. Twat Ratchet – Every mechanics’ garage should have one, and frequently does.

4. Go Fuck Toffee – Have you tried fucking toffee? It’s very difficult.

5. Frig Magnet – Not to be confused with the handy kitchen accessory.

6. Wankatron – A great nerd insult. You’ve spilled Cheez Whiz all over the file server, you wankatron.

7. Jizz Jockey – A bit like a Disc Jockey, only stickier.

8. Butt Frog – Not something you’d want to see in your local pond.

9. Mitch – A male bitch. Apologies to readers called Mitch, but hey, wouldn’t it be cool to have a swearword as a name?

10. Cock Doctor – OK, some people really are cock doctors.

11. Twot – Only very posh people should use this, like the Queen or Oprah Winfrey

12. Chimney Whore – I don’t really know what one of these is.

13. Fog Fucker – Have you tried fucking fog? It’s almost impossible.

14. Twatwagon – A great insult for the motorist. Why don’t you go join your rolling twatwagon of fog fuckers… Officer.

15. Nadbadger – A comparison to a testicle-loving woodland animal? Ouch!

16. Kiss My Colon – I’m sure I wouldn’t want to do that.

17. Penguin Filler – Go fill a penguin, you wankatron. Another good insult for nerdy Linux fans.

18. Fuckerydoo – A game played by nadbadgers with the intention of pissing you off. My neighbour played fuckerydoo with the cops and busted my illegal puppy farm.

19. Sharkey – You’ll never hear this very rude word on TV, that’s for sure! For added impact, combine with Fergal – Nearly as bad as sharkey, but referring to a less moist orifice.

20. Jam Banger – Have you tried… oh, never mind.

So, next time some dicktrap driving her twatwagon full of screaming frig magnets rear-ends you, you can let the jam-banging cock doctor know exactly how you feel. Then you can tell that fergal sharkey of a twat ratchet at the repair garage to quit playing fuckerydoo and fix your car, otherwise he can suck your invisible cock. Fog fucker.

No, don’t thank me or send money for adding new swears to your lexicon. It’s just a service I provide.

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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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Do you ever write down reminders to yourself but can’t understand what they mean later on? I’ve looked through my trusty jotter and attempted to decipher the cryptic crap I’ve scribbled down. I’m sure they were very meaningful and important at the time…

(These are all genuine. I wish they weren’t).

“Dora – ages 5+, two AA batteries”

Was this a reminder to buy a small child a birthday gift? Is some poor forgotten niece crying into her party dress because evil Aunt Tiggy forgot her birthday again? At least I reminded myself to buy batteries. And I hope it wasn’t a reminder to buy the poor child this -

I’m not sure what kind of exploring Dora gets up to these days, but I’m thinking that it isn’t quite suitable for ages 5+.

“HP Sea Shanties!”

Hewlett Packard is well known for computers, printers and gadgets that bleep and costs a fortune in toner. But I had no idea they’d branched into coastal folk songs. They must be toe-tappingly good because I’ve put an exclamation mark at the end.

Does HP now employ a sou’wester-clad musical troupe to sing hearty songs about plug ‘n’ play pirates? Or how the crystal-sharp light from a HP monitor guided a storm-tossed fishing boat to shore? I checked their website but I couldn’t find Nautical Ditty Downloads anywhere.

“Now want phone to my around the stairs? Why.”

Worryingly, I wrote this at work. Even allowing for my appalling handwriting I can’t make this one out at all. I have to phone around stair repair companies, but I’m not sure why? Is my phone being moved to the stairs, as I’m being turfed from my desk to somewhere more appropriate to my position?

I’ve obviously been spending too much time inhaling photocopier fumes. Maybe I should give HP a call about a replacement machine. But I want it in marine blue.

“Mike Smith potato”

For those who don’t know, Mr. Smith is a local musician and actor who plays lovable Bubbles in the Canadian comedy Trailer Park Boys. He is not, nor has ever been, a starchy, tuberous root vegetable. I’ve never seen a potato or any other vegetable that looks remotely like Mike Smith (mind you, I did once see an onion that looked like Bono).

What was this bizarre reminder for? Do I owe him a potato? Does he owe me a potato? Is he starring in a hilarious root-vegetable-based comedy show? What the hell would a root-vegetable-based-comedy show be like?

I couldn’t possibly imagine, even after inhaling photocopier fumes.

“National *Something* Day Today”

I had no idea Canada celebrates National Something Day. Was it a statutory holiday? I’m guessing National Something Day is the day when Canadians honour any noun of their choice.

How about National Penis Day? National Free Cocktail Day? National Tiggy Day? Maybe all three?

I didn’t record the date so I’ll end up missing it again next year. Bugger.

I think I’m going to invest in a voice recorder and record my reminders instead. Mind you I’ll probably end up with a stream of messages blabbering “Now want phone to my around the stairs? Why…”

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Damn this blank page! I need to fill it with witty comments and interesting observations for Tiggyblog, but after four hours all I’ve done is write my name at the top. And I spelled that wrong.
Writer’s block is frustrating, especially if your life is dull and devoid of inspiration. How can you generate great ideas for that overdue article or blog? I’ve thought up some useful tips to help you fill that page in no time.

1. Go for a walk. Running away from your empty page is a good start. Hopefully you will be inspired by something on your walk. Or get hit by a car. This will give you plenty to write about as you recover in hospital.

2. Get high. It works for rock stars, it could work for you. Roll a fat one, sit back and wait for inspiration. The disadvantage being anything you’ve written down is unintelligible when you recover. Get high again and it all makes perfect sense. Come back down and it’s scribble again. This technique may take some practice.

3. Cut up the Dictionary and draw words out of a hat. Arrange the words on the page. Problem solved.

4. Become a movie reviewer. You will never have to think up an original idea again. Make a list of stock phrases such as “Touching portrayal”, “More profanity than plot” and “Don’t waste your money” and cut and paste as required. You don’t even need to watch the movie, just look at the promotional poster and draw your own conclusions.

5. Think in the third person. Imagine yourself as someone else and look at the world through their eyes. You could write a topical blog from the perspective of a brown Peruvian Alpaca (or whatever colour you prefer). I’m sure they have opinions on global oil prices. Combine with tip #2 for further inspiration.

6. Set a target. Aim for no more than 2 words a day – they have to be really good words though. By the end of the week you’ll have a sentence. It’s a start.

7. Pay someone to write for you. Writers are cheap and can often be bought with alcohol and smokes. Let them suffer writer’s block on your behalf.

8. Join an interesting local group. An extremist right-wing religious sect or suicide cult preparing for Armageddon would be perfect – if you get out alive just think of the stories you could tell! And they’d all be dead so they couldn’t sue you.

9. Get yourself arrested. This could be easily arranged in combination with tip #2, or you could go for an ecological slant by chaining yourself to a tree. Or better still, a logger. Don’t forget to take your notebook to jail.

10. Accept the fact your creativity is spent and your writing career is over. You will need to get yourself a real job.

Follow these handy tips and your creative juices will be flowing all over the place, earning you enough money to keep on writing and pay for all those drug fines. Now grab your pen and blog off.

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