Van, left: “I can’t believe they’re doing this to me!”
Barbara, right: “I can’t believe it, either. Especially since I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who are ‘they’? And do they also want to do things to other people? Like me?”
Van: “But I thought you would understand my pain. That’s why I came to you.”
Barbara: “Actually, I came to you. I was at a cocktail reception in the Bijou Room around the corner, and I was merely seeking out the public loo that some drunken hussy told me existed at this end of the hallway. Then I heard screams coming from this room.”
Van: “I was screaming?”
Barbara: “I think that’s what you were doing. If not, you may have a medical or psychological issue which requires further study. By the way, could you not clench me so tightly?”
Van: “But you’re the one doing the clenching. Scroll up and review the opening photo.”
Barbara: “Oh, right. But you have your head on my bosom. See there? This isn’t really something one should do when someone else is innocently popping by to see if an axe murder is taking place. Such is clearly not happening, or I would assume that things would be much more messy, with blood spatter and whatnot. I watch ‘CSI: Vintage Hollywood’, you know.”
Van: “I must protest that my head is not on your bosom. I’m not allowed to place it there, according to that hideous Production Code enforced in 1934 by the studios after Hedy Lamarr bared her radial axis in a lake in that otherwise obscure German film.”
Barbara: “It seems that you are now obfuscating, and I really don’t care for that. Are you truly in some type of danger or can I march forth and attend to the gin that is swelling my bladder?”
Van: “Well, I just received a ransom letter in my email.”
Barbara: “Hmm. Well, that’s not exactly blood spatter, but I must admit to a tiny smidge of curiosity.”
Van: “You really seem focused on the blood spatter. Do you also have issues which require further study? Like that outfit you’re wearing. There’s really no valid explanation for it.”
Barbara: “I require that you get to the point or I will be quickly exiting stage left. What does the ransom letter say? Who is it from? Do you have any gin in this room that can keep me company whilst I process your rambling?”
Van: “It’s from WordPress.”
Barbara, gasping: “Is this about the Block Editor? I’ve heard the horror stories about the enforced implementation of such. It doesn’t directly affect me, of course, because I come from money and I can pay people to take care of things for me. But it has caused some of my more artistic friends to abuse prescription medications, and that’s really annoying when one is trying to plan a proper dinner party. If you RSVP with a ‘yes’, then you should show up, not check into rehab. It’s just not proper.”
Van: “It’s not the Block Editor. It’s about my font.”
Barbara: “I thought you weren’t allowed to talk about your tackle, according to the Production Code.”
Van: “Your annoyance level just fluctuates wildly, doesn’t it? Look, just read this copy of the email that I printed out on the back of the room-service menu, specifically the section I circled in purple crayon.”
Hi Brian,
In two weeks we’ll be making some updates to the custom fonts available on WordPress.com to ensure that we have a diverse selection of high quality fonts. As a result, you’ll see the following change(s) on your site(s):
On lageose.wordpress.com:
Calluna will be replaced by EB Garamond
These updates will be made automatically on October 19, 2020. Because these fonts are very similar to the ones you already have, your visitors shouldn’t notice a difference on your site(s).
Barbara: “But wait, your name isn’t Brian. It’s Van, according to the scriptwriter. Or is this entire room filled with lies and deceit but not the blood spatter I was mildly relishing when me and my brimming bladder opened the door?”
Van: “Don’t quibble. The scriptwriter is merely trying to mesh reality with farcical whimsy, as he always does. Why are you even here at Bonnywood if you can’t grasp that concept?”
Barbara: “Because the drinks are free. And no one showed up at my own dinner party because everyone was busy seeking counseling after the Block Editor Hellfest. But I do agree that this is an outrage. No one should change anything about your appearance without your permission.”
Van: “Exactly. But that’s not the worst of it.”
Barbara: “There’s more? Have we not suffered enough? Well, you, mostly. I’m really not that invested.”
Van: “Look at the numbers. I received this email on October 12. It first states that they will be making the changes in two weeks. But then it says the changes will take place on October 19. That’s one week, not two. What in gay hell?”
Barbara: “Ah, that explains everything.”
Van: “It does? Enlighten me, Bladder Barbara.”
Barbara: “The programmers at WordPress clearly can’t count. And counting is a critical skill for a programmer. It’s clear that the wrong people were hired to do very important jobs. So, it’s obvious that WordPress is now staffed with members of the Trump Administration. None of those people know what the hell they’re doing.”
Van: “You might be on to something.”
Barbara: “I’m always on something, a revelation you can interpret however you wish. But right now I need to be on the porcelain throne in your comfort chamber. I really need to recycle the gin. Once I’m done, we can plot revenge. Is it this door over here?”
Van: “No, that’s the closet. You don’t find anything in there except maybe a Republican politician. Take the door just to the left.”
Barbara: “Got it. Back in a jiff.”
Van: “Oh, and Barbara?”
Barbara: “Yes?”
Van: “Ignore any blood spatter you might find in there. We’ll talk about that in another post.”
Cheers.
Photo graciously provided by Rivergirl.
Categories: My Life
Bonnywood Manor 
Mwahahahaha😈 ! I was not expecting that ending. Well done! 💕
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Sometimes it’s fun to go a little dark…. 😉
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Barbara’s face: That was the same look on my face on Tuesday morning when I swanned into the office and dramatically peeled off my coat, only to realise that I had forgotten my slip. (The dress was sheer navy print). I quickly moved backwards through time and corrected the mistake. But that split second of mortification is still imprinted in the atmosphere near my desk.
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Ah, I know that situation well. If I had a nickel for every time I left behind the Essence of Failure in my workstation at Verizon, well, I could probably buy a moderate-size Greek island…
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On a casual day, I would not even care about it. On the matter of essences, we should pool resources. and buy that island, and then rent it out. xo
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‘The Horror That Haunts Bonnywood Manor.’ You think it’s all over, you’ve wrassled the mindless Paragraph block, applied the Verse block, then randomly you’re foisted with whatever block WordPress, in their infinite wisdom, think(?) may help you transcribe a simple message to ones readers. So, one can try to block block it out, using the classic manner. Which can work. Till next time. (I’m getting at better ‘understanding’ the caprices of this ‘improvement’ but Classic was simple, and I’m a poor simpleton who believes in Keep It Simple Stoopid.) I’m sure if you try telling ’em to font off WP will block that as well. Sigh. Sympathies.
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It’s all just sheer, pointless madness. Why are they jacking with things in such a callous, defiant manner? Granted, it’s been 700 years since I took marketing courses in college (we studied by candlelight) but I believe the Essential Maxim is still the same: Keep your customers happy. Everything has just gone to shite since The Orange One walked onto the scene and strangled the neck of decency with his Cheeto-dusted fingers…
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Yep. I would just like these fleet fingered bright-eyed geeks to not see it from their Tech-logic eyes but stick with ‘ hey, if it ain’t broke don’t shatter it and rebuild it.’ All we wanna do is post, not have to use an Enigma machine to write a simple sentence.
Oh, now I’m all agitated. I feel the need for a a little soothing Tonic and lots of Greenalls.
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You can’t fight the block editor, so I doubt you’ll be able to save your beloved font. Perhaps if your readers drink enough gin they won’t even notice…
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Better yet, give ME the gin and at some point I’ll stop caring. And probably start singing Elton John songs. Because that happens a lot when I’m left unsupervised around gin…
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The mental image of you belting out Tiny Dancer warms my soul..
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Speaking of the new changes at WordPress, let me add how royally pissed off I am at them for their authoritarian changes to our platform.
I raised lesbian hell with them about the changes, pleaded poverty, old age, ten years of being a loyal customer – all to no avail.
I would like to say bite me and go elsewhere, but I’m too lazy to make that drastic change.
Curses. Foiled again.
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And therein lies the rub. WordPress is annoying the hell out of me (and not returning my possibly vituperative phone calls), but where are we going to go? Despite the offensive management decisions lately, this is still one of the better platforms out there. The thought of starting all over at another site just makes me tired. And the twenty-somethings who are apparently controlling WordPress know it…
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Cyberspace bullying.
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Mwahaha. *snicker*….and here’s my alternative, because I have to write it down or that photo is going to haunt me in my dreams, where it has no business being, given I wasn’t even born when they paired that unlikely duo UP!
Van (Van WHO? Van Helsing, Morrison, Van Cleef???.. Oh the humanity. Wait. You explained, as you do in deference to those who don’t know really obscure actors from eras long before they were born..it’s HEFLIN apparently. I never heard of him, except to think he looks vaguely like a thinnish Orson Wells..)
VAN: I don’t hear anything.
Barb: Are you SURE?
Van: Well if you’d just stop singing for two minutes, maybe I would hear it.
Barb: I just HAD to burst into song. How else will those producers know I have TALENT?
Van: Wait. SSHHHHHHH! Uh, okay I think I heard it.
Barb: What do I do about it?
Van: It’s saying, from what I can make out through your overly stern undergarments that any woman was forced to wear in 1934, “Resistance is futile.”…Yes. By jove! I got it!
Barb: Well *heavily censored word that ladies didn’t say in 1934. But they thought that word A LOT. Mainly about the censors) I’d hope to escape, but I guess I’m doomed. Brian honey?
Author (off screen): You broke the FOURTH WALL dammit. I’ve told you about that!!”
Barb: But it’s IMPORTANT and I thought you’d want to know!
Author: Well this once I guess. This really IS gay hell.
Barb: Why does everyone keep saying that? I don’t understand.
Author: You never will sweetie. Don’t worry too much about it. It’s for really creative types anyway…well some of them..
Barb: I have a message, specially implanted in my breast to relay. Here’s my nifty and willing spokes-guy, Van to tell you all about it…
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Well, you certainly grabbed the proverbial ball and escalated things in a very satisfying manner. (Kudos for mixing in the “musical talent” aspect as well as keeping alive the “gay hell” thread.)
But I must admit to being very startled by the concept of encoded messages in the bosoms of the world. I’m not sure of the origination of said trepidation, but I must assume that something unsavory happened during my tender years that instilled a fear of Morse-code mammaries… 😉
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Great photo — hats off to Rivergirl for that one.
As for WordPress staffed with Trumpers, my god, that makes total sense! The insane changes they’re making, with little regard for the people they’re serving, and cloaking it in a lie of “trust us, it’s better this way”… Nooooooooo!
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Rivergirl has proven to be a rich and satisfying source of inspiration photos. She definitely has a talent. Perhaps it has something to do with the crisp Maine air?
And I firmly believe that we will eventually discover a link between the shenanigans at WordPress and those at the current White House. Perhaps the crazed loons at QAnon could provide some insight?
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Since I began WordPressing I have followed my daughter’s advice: I compose and edit in Word, then copy and paste onto the WordPress page. I have no idea regarding the name of the font they have given me, but I also have no complaints. Moreover, given the look on Barbara’s face, I think it possible that she is a smidge too late finding the loo, which might give Van a nasty surprise. J.
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I also follow the sage advice of you daughter, in that I compose in Word and then paste in WordPress. However, and perhaps it’s some cryptic setting I have in Word, if I paste into the Block Editor, things go awry and it takes me almost as long to make things pleasant in appearance as it did to compose the piece in the first place. Thankfully, the Classic Editor is still there for me in the “new post” dropdown.
And, upon second look, I think you’re right about Barbara’s face. She certainly seems anguished about alerting someone that we need a clean-up in Aisle Four…
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Car: I don’t think you need to pee. You’re so full of crap and jerk-off blockheads that you’re going to explode.
Barbed: If you can’t say something good, then don’t say anything at all.
Car: Easy for you to say. You’ve had all the breaks. And the fixes, too.
Barbed: If you can’t say something good, then don’t say anything at all.
Car: Why do you keep saying that? Is it because you’re old and stupid?
Barbed: [after returning from the back yard, shovel in hand] Yup, I’ll have to clean up the vintage blood spatter tonight. Lotta work. But worth it. Those mouthy, opinionated, belligerent arseholes never learn that eventually, the voters will catch up with them. Better late than never.
😉
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First, I so look forward to your delicious twists on the character names. (Van into Car = Big Grin.)
Second, in this case, I admire your twist of my twist in the story. Please be my friend forever. #NotBegging #OkayMaybe
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