A-Z Blogger Challenge: Z

Zihuatanejo and Zombies

Not so long ago my friend and I were having a conversation about the men in our lives and I compared the dating scene to an episode of The Walking Dead. The specifics aren’t important. Whether we are the zombies or the zombie food it still ends with a whole lot of searching for ‘something’ and a whole lot of bloodshed.

I’ve threatened to write a book – How to Wade Through a Field of Zombies and Find Foreverland. The front cover will show me dressed Tomb Raider style atop a pile of zombies, holding the head of my latest victim while pouting at the hottie on the other side of the field! I think it’s set to sell millions!

There is a huge zombie problem out there. It’s so easy to believe that dating is like Night of the Living Dead. Some examples:

  • You may be zombified after a breakup and you literally stumble into the arms of the next one without taking time to heal, bite his head off, thereby causing an vicious cycle of zombie puss and pain.
  • Or you’re bitten by a zombie who is stumbling and then you are caught up in the infectious zone of him getting over his breakup. (zombie puss and pain)
  • You are forever on the hunt for “brains”. You struggle to find an intelligent being to talk to.
  • You’re exhausted running from the guy who just wants to chew on you, no conversation.
  • You end up, holed up in a dark, (emotionally) safe space with an arsenal of weapons and a bad attitude.
  • You keep having to kill people.
  • People you thought were normal eventually try and feel you up or kill you….therefore you keep having to kill them.

It’s a vicious zombie cycle with no cure in sight.

To end this month of alphabetic blogging I thought I should end with something gorgeous and not leave you with the thoughts of zombie puss and pain. So I leave you with Zihuatanejo, one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen in my lifetime and somewhere that I would like to call home some day. Enjoy.


29th A-Z Blogger Challenge: Y

Youth in Revolt

I think I’m doing it backwards. The older I get the more irresponsible I want to be. Don’t get me wrong I’m not totally irresponsible, I hold down a job, I pay all my bills on time, I treat people with kindness and hold the hearts that I have very carefully.  (Ok if I was irresponsible then that last statement would sound very creepy but I’m not so take it in the spirit that it’s meant.) So on a very basic level I am a responsible person. So why is it that I want to revolt and do stupid shite on a regular basis? What is it about getting older that makes you think about doing very childish things? Sometimes the silliest of things have brought a smile to my face. Does this happen to everyone? When I think of getting older and being silly I always think of the poem “Warning” by Jenny Joesph:

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick flowers in other people’s gardens

And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickle for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple. friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

I fear this may be me!