Bloggerstock: Potential Postcards

Hey All! Today’s post is from Coyote Rose for Bloggerstock. It’s posted for your reading pleasure below:

******

So the Bloggerstock theme this month was: “If you could write ONE postcard to any person (living or dead), who would you write to, what would you say, and where would the postcard be from?”

And i thought long and hard about it. I mean there are dozens of people i would like to write too. But when it came down to it Marie Antoinette was the winner.

Why would i want to write to a spoiled, pompous queen, who cheated on her husband and ultimately got beheaded?

Because I feel sorry for her. For those who read my blog, you know that I have my masters in European History. One of the very first papers I wrote was about Marie Antoinette and her influence on French Politics. I was using a book of translated letters between Marie Antoinette, Her Mother the Empress Maria Theresa of Austria and the Austrian Minister in France, Comte De Mercy-Argenteau. The poor little Austrian Princess Marie was married to her second cousin and shipped off to France at the age of 15. I mean can you imagine being carted off to a foreign country, where you barely know the language and married to a chubby, smelly arrogant, toe-rag of a french boy at the age of 15? I mean it kinda sucked for her.

Plus her mother was a total tyrant. The Empress Maria Theresa had spies watching Marie every hour of every day. The poor girl couldn’t sneeze without her mother having an opinion about it. Furthermore, mommy-dearest was trying to use her daughter to gain political control in France. I mean Maria Theresa basically told her daughter to pitch a hissy fit when it looked like France was going to go to war with Austria. She would have told her daughter to withhold sex, but Louis XVI had some sort of sexual dysfunction, so Marie barely slept with him anyways.

Anyways, I would send poor little rich girl, Marie Antoinette, the postcard above from present day Versailles with the note:

Love what you did with the Palace, but take a long vacation to Austria in the beginning of July 1789 otherwise you just might lose your head.
~ Kisses,
Coyote Rose

**********

You can read my post over on RainieY’s blog here and read what the postcard says here. (The last I check the link wasn’t properly working on RainieY’s page.)

BloggerStock: The Story of What is On Your Desk

Hey All! I finally got my post from my partner Rob at Go Forth and Bloggeth for Bloggerstock. It’s posted for your reading pleasure below :) Oh, and the reason why it was late? He was battling evil something-or-others in the hospital, so I guess I’ll let him pass this time.

******

Here is my entry for the Bloggerstock event. What is Bloggerstock? Well, Bloggerstock links bloggers from around the world. They give you a topic to write about and then pair you with another blogger who allows your post to be displayed on their blog. Thank you to Kara for allowing me to write on her blog for this event.

The Story of What’s On My Desk

As I don’t really own a desk or use one for work, I am about to tell you the fascinating story of what is on the table I use to hold my laptop and various foods that I wrangle throughout the day.

Currently sitting alongside my laptop as I type this post is a notepad containing various mysterious scribblings that probably made no sense within five minutes of their writing, especially if the “two tickets to paradise?” scrawled on the top page is anything to go on.

The worktable is my mission control centre. Unlike those simpletons at NASA, I am able (forced) to work while my mission control centre is invaded by cats and assorted creatures. It is the place where I am most productive.

There is a lamp placed on the left-hand corner of my mission control centre. This lamp reminds me of my Grandmother. When she stays with us, she would turn every light off before going to bed, not believing our protestations that we also might need this light to see, after her self-imposed 8pm darkness deadline.  So, as I look at this lamp, I remember the one night where I kept coming downstairs into a pitch-black basement tripping over cats and other creatures attempting to find my mission control centre with any soft part of my body, usually though my shins were the best at this fun game.

I turned the lamp on maybe three times after repeated trips up and downstairs and then on the fourth time, after again returning to complete darkness, I turned around and stormed back up stairs and, as my brother was the only one home, I asked him nicely, “Could you please stop turning off the light? It is becoming quite bothersome.” (Not my actual words).  As he stumbled his way through a confused response, I felt a tap on my shoulder.  It was my Grandmother. As I turned around, she pointed at my chest and said “Listen here; how do you turn your computer machine off? I tried pressing some buttons but it wouldn’t do anything. It’s too bright down there with that thing on.” I suppose I was lucky my shin was the only casualty of that evening, and not the essay that I had been working on for the past month.

This mission control centre is also the place where I pretend I can read. There are two books that lay unread on the far right corner of this desolate land of wood; one, Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand, and the other; a collection of stories by H.G. Wells. I always like the idea of reading these great novels and then, on arriving home and proud of my purchase I become lost in a sea of whirling YouTube videos featuring cats walking on two legs and bloopers from The Office. Best intentions and all that. I’m sure Ayn and H.G would understand. Well, H.G, probably would anyway.

Sure, it’s just a table with some books, a computer, a notepad, and .. I wanna say an old banana peel?.. on it, but it’s what I’m used to ; and, for as long as it’s around, it will always be the setting for my hardest fought working battles,  longest forays into the internet world and of course, our most intimate of encounters ; the old shin high-five for a job well done when my Grandmother comes to stay.

*****

And be sure to check out my post over on Alex’s page!

Where the F is my Post?

So today was suppose to be “Post Day” for Bloggerstock, a new-ish blog swapping site that has people sign up and swap blogs once a month. I thought it would be great because I’d maybe gain some new readers and discover some new, awesome blogs all at the same time.

I, being the crazy, on-time kind of person that I am, wrote my post last week and emailed it away to my partner on time as I should have yesterday. Did I get any response from said person? Nope! Did I receive a post to put on my blog from anyone? Nope! Dammit it people! What’s wrong with you? If you commit to a blog swap, POST DAMMIT. So irritating!

Anyway, Alex, Bloggerstock organizer extraordinare, contacted me as he didn’t receive a post from his partner either. So now, instead of my original partner, my post is over on his page.

Go check it out!

In the meantime, hopefully someone sends me something to post on my page. I’m starting to lose hope in blog swapping. Back in March/April/Whenever the last 20SB Blog Swap was, I swapped with a girl and then a couple weeks later she outright deleted my post. Thanks!

If you want to learn more about Bloggerstock, there’s a button over in my sidebar →

Happy Wednesday otherwise! Tomorrow is Canada Day and I’m hanging out with my Mom at the park. If I get around to it, I’ll post photos Thursday night. If not, Monday it is!

And, What are your thoughts on Blog Swaps? Yay? Nay? Oy!?