Tag: humor

Dirty Dancing

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The Chorus line, shortly after Tiggy fell off the stage.

It was a nice afternoon so I decided to take a stroll along the harbourfront. I wandered along dreaming about puppies, unicorns and being spanked by…never mind. A crowd of tourists from the nearby cruise ship pottered around and took photographs of seagulls.

“Yoo hoo! YOO HOO!”

A high-pitched American voice squealed behind me, interrupting my spanking dream.
“Yoo hoo, girl with the red hair! Hi! We really enjoyed your show!”

I turned around to see a chubby couple waving at me and pulling out their cameras. I was confused. I wouldn’t class Tiggyblog as a show. They didn’t look like how I image my readers to be (I assume you are all rather attractive and under 70). I still had stars in my eyes after my recent movie appearance, but that was probably on the cutting room floor by now. Had I been in a show recently? I get forgetful sometimes, but nothing sprang to mind.

The lady tourist flapped her chunky arm and beckoned me towards her.
“We saw the show last night… loved it! I loved your dancing,”
Dancing? Me? This woman was obviously drunk. I mumbled something about being late for rehearsal and fled. I could still hear her shrieking “You hoo, dancer!” as I stumbled away.

I had been a dancer, once. I was four years old and landed the part of “pink rabbit” in the village variety show. I don’t recall much about the performance, although I distinctly remember a rabbit ear falling off and pissing my tutu in sheer panic. Not exactly Bolshoi Ballet material.

Modern dance - wtf?I wondered what kind of freak show I had supposedly been dancing in. I couldn’t think of any dance genre requiring a big arse and the flexibility of a tree trunk. What had this misguided couple been watching?

Maybe it was a contemporary dance show? Perhaps I was in an art-house production about 19th century lesbian vegetable pickers, depicted in a pretentious display of arm waving and scary music. I probably played a carrot or something. But my tourist fans didn’t look the type to be watching arty modern dance. Hmm.

This being Nova Scotia, maybe they had attended a traditional Highland show, where ruddy-faced girls kicked their legs like pit nags to the sound of bagpipes. Oh, the horror! I would never dance like that. My boobs are too wobbly and bagpipes make me violent.

Work it, Tiggy!Then a horrible thought crossed my mind. Maybe the couple were not what they seemed? After all, they were on vacation, full of cocktails and free to go a little wild… in true maritime fashion, maybe they had disembarked their boat and headed straight for the local strip club? Had they spent their evening watching a “show” involving pole dancing and spanking?

Maybe the club had been packed with curious cruise tourists. And they all thought I was that girl who was dirty dancing in a sparkly thong!

My reputation in this town is in tatters! What must people think? A boatload of Americans think I am nothing but a cheap, pole-dancing slut!

However, the spanking part I can live with.


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Tiggy’s New Job – Part Two

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Going to work can be fun.

In my quest to find gainful employment, I’m trying out some new career options. The bar work and animal stuffing jobs didn’t go so well. I need something more glamourous and exciting…

3. Erotica Shop
If I’m going to work in a shop, it might as well sell interesting stuff. So what better than a XXX adults-only sex shop? At least it won’t be full of schoolchildren and old ladies muttering about arthritis. And a 10% employee discount on all leather goods!

However, my day at Sticky Ricky’s Love Emporium wasn’t all fun and Vaseline…

Hands off, that leather corset is mine!– Customers don’t tend to be hunky young men needing help in the fitting room.

– Don’t ask “Can I help you, Sir?” to an obviously amateur transvestite.

– Using the PA system to announce “We’re rolling back prices on cock rings!” is not appropriate.

– Employees only get a 5% discount. Dammit!

4. Movie Extra
I was always destined for acting greatness. Ever since my well-received performance as sheep #3 in the school nativity, I knew my acting talents should be developed. Unfortunately my fake Actors’ Union membership card fooled no-one, but I managed to get work as an extra. Things I learned…

There's me! Over on the left! There!– Getting a part as a murder victim in CSI is not much fun. Unless you enjoy spending 14 hours covered in blood locked a packing trunk.

The director didn’t actually use me; he just locked me in a packing trunk all day.

– Do not accept any work for movies about high seas, mountain rescues or being trapped at the top of blazing roller coasters.

– The director does not need ‘in-the-field’ assistance and criticism from you, the 19th pedestrian on the left. Unless you want to go back in the packing trunk again.

– You will spend most of the day huddled in the corner of a muddy field with your fellow extras, while the cast and crew laugh at you from their cozy trailers. The lead actors will pass the time by playing ‘Extras Skittles’ with oranges and small rocks.

So much for my dream job! Sitting in a warm office drinking coffee and breaking wind all day doesn’t seem like such a bad deal after all.
And on the bright side, I still have my Sticky Ricky’s Dirty Discounts card…

2 for 1 deal on all leather thongs over at Humor Blogs


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Tiggy’s New Job – Part One

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Farewell crappy office job, hello adventure! I hope.

You know you’re bored at work when you spend the day stapling your hair to the desk for something to do. It’s time to leave when you start breaking wind just to annoy your fellow office workers.

But no more tedious office jobs for me! My future career is going to be exciting and rewarding with lots of free lunches and things to steal. Hmm, let me see…

1. Bar Manager

This sounds like a dream job! Late nights, free booze and cheery customers bloating their livers while swelling my coffers. A friend with a bar let me shadow him for the evening. I learned a few things.

Where in the Canadian Labour Code does it state the barmen have to be dressed?– Testing the liquor optics by sucking on them is not correct procedure.

– A rude and obnoxious diner is not to be advised that Tonight’s Special is Pan-Fried Fuck Off.

– ‘A round of drinks’ does not automatically include one for the bar manager.

– You will spend 85% of your time doing the accounts, 10% cleaning vomit from the ladies’ washroom and 10% re-doing the accounts because the numbers don’t add up.

Running a bar sucks! I know which side of the counter I’ll be staying in future.

2. Working with Animals
Apart from cats, I love all animals and they love me too. I would make a great Zoo keeper (apart from the poop, I’m not touching that) or racehorse breeder (apart from the poop, I’m not touching that) or veterinarian (apart from the poop, puke and fleas… ok, I’m not doing that).

There’s no better way to get to know animals inside out than a job at Bob’s Taxidermy! It’s like a petting zoo for bears, moose and ducks. Although the day did not go so well…

Well, I thought I'd captured the essence of poor Duke quite nicely.– No poop. But I’d forgotten about the blood, entrails and brains.

– Don’t poke a dead moose with a broom handle. Stuff will seep out.

– Offering to stuff Trapper Joe’s wife when she drops dead is not considered good customer service. Even if you offer a discount.

– Buckshot is difficult to extract from your own bum cheeks. Trapper Joe has a good shot.

Next time! Tiggy goes X-rated at an adult store and suffers on a movie set! Again!


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Is That Supposed To Be Raw? Mysterious Restaurant Meals

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Yum! Spaghetti and... Veal? Beef? Badger?

After this weekend I will never visit a fancy restaurant again!

Last weekend I went to a smart restaurant for dinner. I eagerly scanned the menu, only to recoil in horror and confusion. The menu was all in foreign! There were some words I understood, like fried and with, but the dish descriptions were alien to me. The waiter sneered as I pretended to study the menu. He knew I had no clue, the bastard. Panicking, I picked the cheapest dish and hoped it didn’t have tentacles.

If you are intending to visit a fancy restaurant this weekend, here’s a few translations you need to know. Unless you like dining dangerously.

Mmmm, organic shitty soup with emulsion and pond weedStarters is not called Starters any more. It’s First Dish, Amuse-Bouche or whatever the pretentious phrase is this week. Soup is no longer soup, it’s bisque. It isn’t cream of mushroom, it’s organic shiitake bisque with crème fraiche emulsion . If you are unfamiliar with those ingredients, who knows what could arrive on your plate? A shit biscuit covered in cream paint?

How about panko encrusted scallops with tamarind drizzle ? Anything with a panko encrustation should be examined by a doctor. I don’t know what a tamarind is, or that it causes drizzle (or indeed any sort of damp weather).

The next danger dish is carpaccio. The description sounds innocent enough – warmed winter salad with organic carpaccio . Carpaccio must be like some kind of goats’ cheese, right? No.
Carpaccio is RAW MEAT. Just-dead. No flame has touched its bloody mass.
You end up with raw beef and cooked salad. The chef must have some serious issues.
Perhaps stick with the bread rolls for now.

Now for the main course, sorry, Dish Principal, Fourth Course or whatever the hell we’re up to by now. Attempting to impress your fellow diners, you order boneless grain-fed Cornish Rock with a compliment of seared potato shards and a blemish of spiced Peruvian tomato reduction . Your friends are not impressed when waiter serves you chicken and chips with a dollop of ketchup.

Pan-seared halibut with... green things! Eww.Those dastardly chefs can’t even leave simple Italian food alone. For years I avoided pizza topped with pomodoro, assuming it was some kind of chewy squid. Pomodoro means tomato. Why don’t they just say tomato? And calamaretti is not like spaghetti; it’s some kind of chewy squid.

Sometimes you recognize all the ingredients – except one. Roast (ok) pork (ok) with apple sauce (ok) and seared Ulluco. Uh-oh. Ulluco sounds like it may still have eyes attached. Pan-seared halibut sounds familiar, but unfortunately that psychotic chef has coated it in rocambole jus . Some poor rocambole (which I imagine is some sort of shrew) has been squeezed all over a nice bit of fish. Time for another bread roll.

Thank goodness for dessert! You won’t find any raw cow or crusty crustations in that. Probably.

Although you are reasonably safe ordering anything from the dessert menu, don’t expect your expectations to match what is plonked in front of you.

Four things are guaranteed:

Chocolate cake! With shrew!– Your dessert will be six times smaller than expected.

– There will be a single strawberry and two blueberries somewhere on the plate.

– The plate will be coated with a squiggle of unidentifiable brown sauce (probably chocolate and rocambole jus).

– Your dessert will cost six times more than expected.

If you are invited to a fancy restaurant this weekend, be prepared. Be prepared to face three courses of embarrassment, indigestible food and disappointment. Or tell your host you refuse to eat there as you contracted food poisoning after your last visit. Their carpaccio was suspiciously warm.


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