Avast, me hearties!
What be yer Pirate Name?
What be yer Pirate Name?
Mead and crabs below the deck
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What the devil be Pirate-Talking Day?
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Photo Fair – October 28-29th
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4s for All or Walk the Plank
Pirates Walked the Plank. Morning Cafe Opened
Doubloon Swallowin’ Guideon be my Pirate Name you web-footed sea scallop
Ew. 🙂
if crabs below the deck is a symptom of too much swallowin’ of the dubloons?
No doubt. 🙂
Would ye be kin to those yellow Dutchmen, the Gulden’s?
I’ll have two sent up my room, please.
Pirate Audra, The Staggering Drunk – staggering in for ice cream and Pringles. Arrrrrr!
It’s Scowlin’ Val Teach and her scurvy dog Luna hailing you from round the horn (Wednesday morning).
It’s a good day to be landside here, as the wind is howling and the rain is squalling (and the sun is shinning, ‘cuz that’s Tasmanian weather for you).
How much cute can one curmudgeonly old geezer take?
Here, this isn’t cute, just “moody.”
It’s the rain on my window with the sun morning coming through under the clouds. It’s not a spectacular photo, but it gives you a sense of what it looks like here.
It’s a really interesting shot. (And your windows are a lot cleaner than mine.)
And your windows are a lot cleaner than mine.
Since I don’t clean them, that must be the rain’s doing.
The previous owners of our house were heavy smokers, so, when we first moved into the house, we had to clean what seemed like layers of grime off of the windows. And the walls and ceiling were so bad that we ended up repainting every surface. That was almost two years ago now, and the only window washing I do now is to remove the paw prints from the outside of the sliding glass door. Luna thinks the best way to ask to come in is with her foot.
Luna might just be the most photographed and most deserving of being photographed dog I’ve yet to encounter. What a rare and fortuitous combination! Oh wait, I thought it was talk like a Victorian night. My error.
Avast ye Lubbers – it’s Chocolate Amy Drake on the lookout for brownies.
If there be none, rum will do.
Why, ’tis a silver platter of Chocolate Rum Brownies
‘Tis a horrible thing when our wee bairn girl scouts must be protected from viscious pirates.
I did the ‘significant other pet name’ and came out with “Lemur Anus”….has quite a romantic sound, no?
It’s sounds like a great name for the guy who drove the truck that hit Ryan.
words of wisdom from Barnacle Brain Bianca
On the second try I got Silky Booty, which I like way better. Makes me feel like Queen Latifah.
I suppose the puppy is on the poop deck?
jet lag has really thrown off your cafe visiting schedule — I’m so grateful. 🙂
(btw, did you get the second email I sent you yesterday?)
Would that be the one remarking on what a weenie…no, a lemur anus I am?
I just looked and my pirate wench name is Faith Jailbait
let me push my sleeves down over my shoulders — oops better close the office door first 🙂
My god, you are a natural wench, maryb. And coming from Staggerin Audra that means a lot.
I’m staggered at your opinion Staggerin.
Hey, get a room you two.
<sigh> people at this cafe are always saying that to me. Just cuz I’m an affectionate person …
I think ya’ll are just feeling left out.
and now I gotta go
It’s been fun 🙂
Clearly jet lag is bad for me cuz I’m breaking all the rules.
of course since I made up the rules myself only I know I’m breaking them. And I get to set my own penalties …
I did get your message … but I was too jet lagged to respond further to hypotheticals.
That’s okay — I don’t mind being ignored as long as I know I’m being ignored.
Ignoring? I wouldn’t be so ignorant.
Howz aboot a
I love being in the penalty box with you 🙂
watch out for the wooden leg 🙂
add some grenadine and lime and you have one of my whatchamallcalits…
Yet another distinction between vikings and pirates. No viking would ever put fruit in a drink. And you won’t see us getting e-coli grippe from spinach, either. No green stuff for us.
is not what you want to do with masts.
Not even w/ my ah … mugs? 🙂
Bow down to Pirate Agnes the Malformed.
🙂
🙂
Agnes, that’s a braw viking name, it is.
prepare ta be boarded….
And great link d, er … Syd 🙂
bring ye mugs oer here, Blairwench, and sit a spell by the mast…Arrrrrr!
My, what a big mast you have!
And as you can see, I’ve got lots of them!
Hey dada, did you get my answer to your request about Dylan?
Made my day!…:{)
Meant to respond, apologies!…things are a bit crazy here…hoping for a respite soon…keep in touch.
Later
Jeez, what with having the blues today I nearly missed pirate day! Am I the only one who actually wanted to grow up to be a pirate? Until aged 11 much to the chagrin of my mother and teachers. I read about Ann Bonney and the other pettiskirt pirates and decided it sounded like a lot more fun than the options (housewife, nurse, teacher).
I had pirate wall paper in my boyhood bedroom and read a copy of Treasure Island when I was nine that my Scottish grandfather brought with him from the old country. But I didn’t hear of female pirates until I became a elementary teacher and looked for books for young girls. Jane Yolen has written some good on the distaff pirates. Good luck with the dream! It’s never too late to pirate.
I refuse to honor the scurvy pirate when there is a perfectly honorable alternative – the Viking. Beresek raider, despoiler of coastal monasteries, the seed of the Normans who would lay low King Harald and make the British gentry speak French, hired muscle for Italian city-states, traders from Moscow to the Mediterranean, from the Levant to the London, the Vikings traveled the icy whale-roads and wide waterways of Europe and the northern Atlantic coast of North America in their swift, shallow longboats laying waste to some, dominating others, spreading red hair in their wake, the noblest pirate was a mere wind-driven sneak thief when compared to the lowest of the sons of the North, the mighty Vikings.
(Have I won either the Froggy Bottom Purple Prose award or the Longest Sentence Contest with the above entry?)
And so, I hereby renounce pirate names and reveal my Viking name. Not Thorfinn Skullcrusher, my twenty-pound orange tabby beat me to that one. Not Eric Blood-Axe, a little too Berserker for my taste. I proudly and humbly (if that combination is possible) take the honored name of the first Jarl of Orkney, Oleg Stumpfoot. (My friends call me Stumpy and give me hand on long, steep flights of stairs.)
I’m a viking by ancestry, but I’ve renounced sacking and pillaging as a way of life.
Instead, I’ve turned my ship-building talents to more domestic forms. Like this spice rack I’ve just cut and laid-out this morning. It’s one of Imogen’s birthday presents (I didn’t have it ready by her BD, Sept. 2nd, so I gave her the parts at the time).
Ah, the days of sacking and pillaging are past. That’s for the best. I wonder why the neocon’s didn’t get the memo.
Nice work on the spice rack. Kidspeak and I have been redoing our kitchen. Our carpentry has been on a larger scale. We’re lesrning as we go.