Forgive Me

Dearest Poppy,

I fear I have neglected my duties as a part of this blog. I am going to attempt to remedy that right now by playing the riveting game of "Guess who?" I know the last time we played you did not guess that my eyeliner wearing, 80's singer was none other than... ta daaaaaaaaa....

Ricky Gervais!

For this round of "Guess Who?" I have chosen someone from something we both love. And by love I mean obsess, discuss, collect, weep over, work our lives around and aspire to.

So without further ado, can you guess who this is? (He is scrumpadooochus and I have claimed him for my very own, just a warning. You can guess, and you can look, but you can't touch. mwhahahaha!)

Sending you crazy love,
Night Flower xxo

p.s. Your last blog entry still makes me laugh. You are the BESTEST!

Unlucky In Love

Dear Night Flower,

Do you ever just get a feeling that you’ve done something to really irritate a divine being, and they’re taking great delight in taking revenge on you? I get this feeling often when it comes to men – or lack thereof. Like, when I joined an online dating service, did I get messages from a billionaire bookstore owner like from You’ve Got Mail, or a man like John Cusack from Must Love Dogs? No, of course not, just a whole lot of messages from old men missing teeth who obviously can’t read or don’t understand ‘ages 24-35 only’.

Another of these instances happened to me the other day. I thought I’d share it with you.

To get into this particular shopping centre from the parking lot you have to walk up a ramp that has metal handrails on either wall. My sister and I were walking up the ramp, when there at the top, a pair of sailors appeared. Handsome sailors. Time was suspended for a few glorious seconds. Enough time for a wondrous scenario to play out that I could be telling people for years about how I met my gorgeous sailor boyfriend.

From here it all happened very fast.

They were walking toward us. I looked at my sister to confirm she’d seen them too. She looked at me gleefully and we both looked back. The sailors looked at us. I got embarrassed and looked away. My sister, who hadn’t looked away, turned to tell me the sailor was looking at me. Delightedly, I looked up again, and in our distraction, my sister crab-walked me into the railing just as we were passing them. My bag dragged against the metal and made the loudest farting sound ever.

Needless to say, I am not currently dating a sailor. And to whichever god, goddess, spirit, imp, nymph, or cherub that I may have irritated: I am sorry.

Always,
Poppy

P.S Sadly, I have to bow out of your “Guess Who” game. I’ve stared and stared at the picture of the eyeliner wearing man, and have no idea who it is. You’ll have to tell me, and then we need to have a serious talk about your obsession with men wearing make-up.

Day 270 of Captivity

My human captors have decided to have a laugh at my expense. I suggest you sleep with one eye open, humans. Be wary of all trips down the stairs.....


~Loki~

It's All About the Eyeliner

Darling Poppy,

If your ipod is starting to sound like it's chanting about dead people and your dream catcher is bringing your nightmares, I think we need to have a daily Hugh intervention. Until all this demon madness is over. I have to be honest and tell you that this-- "All my years of horror stories has taught me – sunlight good, dark houses bad." --made me laugh like this..... giggle, giggle more, laugh, snort, giggle. You hate scary things so for the love of all things awesome, please stop watching scary movies. Pronto! From this point on you are restricted to sappy love movies and documentaries about cute animals. (OMG but not March of the Penguin, unless you want to fall in love with the baby penguins only to find out that horrible things happen to them, AND THEY SHOW IT!! I sobbed.)


So without further adieu, your daily dose of Hugh therapy. Can anything be bad when there is a little Hugh in your life? I ask you...

I leave you with a new little game I am going to call "Guess who". Can you guess who this celebrity is? I will give you a hint. After he was this adorable, eyeliner wearing, lead singer of an 80's band he went on to be a very funny comedian.




Can you guess who??




Ah yea, the eyeliner is rad, beyond.
Crazy luv,
Night Flower

Dead, dead, DEAD!

Night flower,

Since one picture of Hugh Jackman is never enough, and I loved your suggestion so much...

As for the other ideas, I am planning to make some offerings to my dream catcher. A few crystals, and maybe a sacrificial lamb or two, will hopefully sate it’s bloodlust for a little while – I don’t think I can handle being eaten by another dinosaur. Palaeontologists say the T. Rex had a brain the size of a peanut, and yet, it always finds me hiding underneath the bed. How it even fits into my house is a whole other matter...

So, I have a real life horror story for you. It happened to me yesterday. I was home alone, writing merrily away on my computer, and melting slowly into a puddle on account of how hot it’s been. I whipped out my iPod to play some music and decided on Blue October’s song ‘Hate Me’. A song you would know well, since you recommended it to me. It was so quiet that when I pressed play I heard all these little voices come pouring out of my iPod. Tiny, little children’s voices. I’d never heard it before and put it close to my ear. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, until they started chanting; “dead, dead, dead!”

I had a heart attack, pressed the stop button, and had to resist throwing my iPod across the room. Visions of Japanese horror movies where the technology is always used for evil swarmed me. That little girl from the Ring was going to come and get me.

Panicking, I forced myself to listen to it again, and again, and again. Until finally, those little voices weren’t saying dead, dead, dead anymore. I still didn’t trust it, but figured I’d imagined it – if my nightmares aren’t enough of a giveaway, I have a weird imagination.

Then...the entire house blacked out! Every light, all my fans! It was so hot and dank, and there was this putrid smell in the air. You have never seen anymore move as fast as I did to get outside. All my years of horror stories has taught me – sunlight good, dark houses bad. I stayed outside, horrified for at least an hour, until my family came home.

In the aftermath the accepted reality is that I imagined the song, lightening struck the power station during the storm and blacked my suburb out, and the smell was the chicken leftovers in the bin... As a girl who believes in fairies, I’m left wondering if it wasn’t something more sinister than that.

I’ll let you decide what the real truth is.

Always,
Poppy

Haunts

Darling Poppy,

It has been brought to my attention that I have been the WORST blogger in blogging history. I have been meaning to reply to your dream catcher conundrum for weeks. Forgive me for my tardiness.

Several people have offered solutions in dealing with your jinxed dream catcher situation. I have been told that you should offer it gifts. Shiny, thoughtful gifts, to remove any jaded and negative demons who reside within it. Failing that, another suggestion is to hang it over your window, so that your bad dreams do not get trapped within the webbing of the dream catcher. They will filter through it and out the window, because well, the window is shiny, and you see, dream catchers deal in the high commodity of shiny. Can you blame them?

Since your post was about your nightmares, I thought I would try to find a solution for your nightmare situation by sharing one of my haunts with you. My haunt doesn't involve bad dreams or ghosts, but the boys of Night Flowers past. I don't mean the real life ones. I'm talking about the ones that I used to day dreamed about. ( OK fine, still day dream about from time to time.)

Take for example, exhibit A. Maxwell Caulfield from Grease 2. That is when my obsession for men with a sexy accent and dressed in leather started. The first time I saw Grease 2, I was just a little kid. The movie is not a masterpiece of awesome, but every time it's on, I have to watch it. It takes me back to a time when I thought all I needed to make my world better was a mysterious boy, on a motorcycle, wearing leather pants and sporting a scrumpadoochus accent.

So, what is the point of this babble? I think you should just get rid of that demon infested dream-catcher. Pin up a picture of Hugh Jackman on your wall in its place. I reckon your nightmares will disappear if he's the last thing you see before you fall asleep.

Love ya like a crazy,
Night Flower

The Dreamcatcher

Dearest Night Flower,

Last year, I bought a dreamcatcher from a carnival stall. The second I hung it up over my bedroom door, I had nightmares. My entire house had nightmares. I don’t know how I managed to buy a dreamcatcher with bad mojo but I did. Do you know how many times I’ve been trapped on a sinking boat with a hungry great white shark circling? Or been caught in the middle of a war zone? Or trying to get vaccine when a pandemic starts wiping out the world?

I thought it couldn’t get any worse, and then, a member of my family slammed my door on it...and snapped a feather off. My sister and I were struck dumb with horror – and we both made the huge mistake of touching it. I promised the dreamcatcher that I would reattach its feather, but I knew it wasn’t happy. That night, I had FOUR nightmares. I kid you not, four. I was waking up all night in a panic.

Now I am faced with the bigger issue – what do I do with it? I know if I take it down, it’ll just make it angry. If I chance it and throw it away, will that just be spreading the evil? Plus I have a horrible feeling it’ll find its way back.

So I have yet another life lesson for you: Do NOT buy cheap dreamcatchers from carnivals, no matter how pretty they may seem. All they do is literally catch your dreams and let the nightmares waltz on through.

Tired,

Poppy