That Means WHAT!? – “Goosing”

Whenever I work on my main writing project, I have to look up a lot of definitions. I will want to use a particular word in a passage, but then I realize that I’m not totally sure of its exact meaning. That happened recently with the word “goose.”

Now, I know what “goose” means when it’s used as a noun:  “an evil, feathered being which delights in pain and destruction, and which has teeth on its beak, tongue, and even the roof of its goddamn mouth.” Seriously. Teeth. EVERYWHERE. I won’t post a picture of said teeth because that shit is disturbing. If you want to see for yourself, go ahead.

But the verb? It has more than one definition. I thought I knew of two. The definition of “to goose” that everyone knows is “to pinch someone’s butt.” The other definition I thought everyone knew was “to poke someone in the side in order to tickle them, thus possibly causing them to make a sound not unlike a goose’s honk.” This, however, is not a well-known definition of “to goose.” In fact, it’s not listed on any dictionary site I could find through Bing or Google. I guess it’s just something I made up and then forgot that I did. How very Katy-tastic.

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“Mhmm.  VERY Katy-tastic.” Shut up, Ibsen. Don’t give me that smartass glare of yours. I’ve watched you eat your own barf.

Anyway, the actual second definition of “to goose” is “to poke someone in the butthole with your finger.”

What?

Seriously.

WHAT!?

How did I, with all my childish poop jokes and Tina Belcher-esque preoccupation with butts, miss this?  I brought it up with a friend right after I researched it. Does this even count as research? The conversation went as follows. To spare my friend from being associated with my infantile little blog, I’m not using her name. She shall simply be called “Friend.”

Me: Since when does “to goose” mean to poke someone in the butthole?

Friend: It’s always been. I learned that when I was like 6.
Friend: “What happens when you goose a ghost?  You get a handful of sheet!”

Me: Whaaaa? Literally never heard that.

Friend: Basically how I learned it was grabbing someone’s ass, but like… from behind where your hand actually goes between their legs a bit

Me: In my house, we call that an unfortunate accident.
Me: It should probably be embarrassing how many times that happens. It’s mostly me unintentionally doing it to Hubbles. My depth perception and peripheral vision are both shit. He does make a really funny sound when I do it, though, so there’s that.

I think she got a little bit uncomfortable then. You’re probably uncomfortable right now, too, and I apologize for that. Unfortunately, however, I am not going to stop yet. Bear with me.

Last night, I nearly goosed Hubbs in the grocery store. I’m not into “butt stuff” – not judging anyone who is – so this is not something I ever do purpose. But, I was not lying above when I said that this happens an embarrassing amount. Whether or not I’ve done this in public, though, I don’t remember. Then again, since I remember little from my day-to-day life, it is not unreasonable to assume* that I have executed a public goosing in the past. Because I find hilarity in personal mishaps that should inspire shame, I had to text my girlfriend to tell her what I did.

Me: Almost goosed Hubbs in the grocery store. Whoops. :-/

Friend: Ew: >.>

Me: I just wanted to give him a friendly little booty squeeze. He gasped and I immediately knew that my aim was not true.

Poor Hubbles. He tolerates way too much from me.

From a standpoint of linguistic precision, I’m pleased to have a term for this terrible thing to which I accidentally subject my husband to all the time. I really do hope that my personal definition of “to goose” will catch on, though. I’ve heard people make some weird-ass sounds when poked in the ribs, including goose honks. Hell, I make some super weird sounds when surprise tickled. I don’t like it, though, so don’t do it. This is as much for your safety as for my sanity and the sake of my bodily agency. I have been known to flail dangerously when tickled, and have involuntarily landed painful strikes to others’ bellies and genitals. Just don’t do it, y’all. I will hurt you, and it’ll be all your fault.

Anyway. Here’s to discovering more weirdo slang terms during my writing adventures! If you have any similar stories, please tell me in the comments. I’d love to hear them.

*Assume. You know what they say about doing that… I find it far too funny that I used that word in this post, considering the topic.

“It Wasn’t Me” and Bathroom Floor Sex. WHY?

When I was in junior high, “It Wasn’t Me” by Shaggy, featuring Rikrok, was popular. The damn song was everywhere. I listened to the radio a lot more back then than I do now, so I’ll bet I knew every word.

Yup. Chubby little 13-year-old Katy Bug singing, “Picture this we were both butt naked/Banging on the bathroom floor.”

Wait, wait. Hold up, here. Butt naked… on the bathroom floor? That is repulsive. The song is already nasty enough, what with the singer talking about his girlfriend catching him repeatedly cheating on her, as well as his buddy telling him to deny everything instead of owning up to it like a grown-up.

Yes, I’m aware that this is supposed to be funny. I get the humor and am mildly amused by it.

Okay, Katy, focus. Let’s hone in on that “on the bathroom floor” bit. What the holy-heff is sexy about the bathroom floor? Bathrooms have toilets, and toilets overflow sometimes. Particularly careless drunks can barf wildly and miss the toilet, too. I don’t care how well you bleach that floor. It doesn’t change the fact that poop and pee and vodka barf have touched it. Caressed its every crevice, even. So when the singer says they were banging on the bathroom floor, all I can think about is his and his side squeeze’s crevices caressing those gross ass, poopy floor tiles.

And that. is. NOT. sexy.

I am perfectly willing to accept that many people are into certain things that I do not find sexy in the least.  That does not, however, change the fact that bathroom floors are disgusting and cannot be healthy surfaces to mash your most intimate, delicate body parts against.  Even if they’ve been scrubbed and bleached, you still have the problem of harsh chemical residue all up on your booty.  This is a health issue, y’all.  Yes, there are certainly less healthy sexual behaviors that one can engage in, but it doesn’t make this one any less… blech.

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Judgy Speck is judging you. You deserve it, but to be fair, she’s a very judgy cat.

When I first heard the song over a decade and a half ago, I thought the line was “banging on the bathroom door.“  Which, admittedly, sounds like a logistical nightmare, but sometimes you get The Urge so badly that you just gotta do it wherever, catch as catch can.  However.  While I knew very little about The Urge at that time, seeing as I was in junior high and didn’t even like holding hands, I still knew that the bathroom door must be a better surface for banging than the floor.  These people are yucky, I thought as I sang along.  Just jump in the shower.  (Full disclosure:  At that time, I was unaware of the inherent difficulties of shower sex.  That doesn’t change the fact that shower sex is undoubtedly more hygienic.)

Man, I should stop now. I can’t believe I even wrote this much about that stupid lyric. I should be telling y’all about our new pets. We’re up to five now, by the way, because we have obviously lost our minds.

Anyway. This song is nasty. If you have sex on the bathroom floor, please clean your floor and take a shower immediately afterward.  Most importantly, don’t tell me about it. Have a good Sunday.

My First Cosplay: My Heart Just Pooped Its Pants

I’ve wanted to cosplay for a long time, but have never gotten any costumes together.  My natural ineptitude with fashion and makeup make the process harder than it should be.  And, for some reason, I always want to dress up as male characters who wear complicated clothes, like Mordecai from Borderlands, which only makes it that much harder for me to find a good starting point.*

I’m one of those people who, when faced with difficulties, does not say “I shall overcome!”  I say “Can I eat French fries and take a nap instead?”  So, my grand plans and ideas never went anywhere, and I’ve always attended cons in plainclothes.

Until now.

I’m going to MidSouthCon next weekend, as Hubbs and I have for the last five years, and a dear friend from high school is joining us.  My friend wanted really badly to try cosplaying, too, and we motivated each other to finally do this thing!  She went the complicated route, ordering a custom-made dress, hat, and staff to be Lulu from League of Legends.  I, in classic Katy fashion, went the easy and cheap, but (hopefully) no less lovable, route to be one of my all-time favorite characters.

Behold!  Tina Belcher!

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Ibsen kitty is not part of my cosplay. If I had someone to cosplay with me as Aunt Gayle, though, it might be a different story.

I don’t just love Tina Belcher.  I am Tina Belcher.  Once, I asked Hubbs which Bob’s Burgers character I was.  Although I hoped he’d say Linda – “Mommy doesn’t get drunk; she has fun.” – deep down, I knew he’d say Tina.  And I was right.  Honestly, it’s like the writing team for Bob’s Burgers has secretly followed me since my thirteenth birthday just so they could put all my weirdness and awkwardly stunted teenage sexuality into this one character.  Dressing up as Tina is just bringing that around full circle.  I am she and she is me!

Other, much more practical, reasons for choosing Tina were that the costume would be easy to put together, inexpensive, and I could wear most of the pieces outside of cosplaying.  No makeup required, either.  Thank God.  I found the shoes and shirt, both of which I love, in clearance aisles at local stores and bought the barrette in a big 20-pack of rainbow barrettes.  Similar story with the wig cap.  My hair is so long and curly that I needed the cap to keep it safely tucked under the wig.  The glasses are my own prescription lenses.  Convenient that I already wear thick black frames, yes?  As for the other pieces, I got the wig, skirt, and socks on amazon.**

Yet one more reason I chose Tina is that she’s rather frumpy, so I wouldn’t have to worry about being sexy.  If I look a hot mess, well, that’s because I’m in character.  It’s also the perfect excuse to ogle all the butts I want – I mean, of course I wouldn’t… Oh, who am I kidding.  I LOVE BUTTS!

All I have left to do is fill a notebook with erotic friend fiction and borrow a horse figurine from my con-going friend.

God, I’m excited.  This is going to be so much fun.

*I forgot that, for a special band camp event in eleventh grade, I dressed up as Tasuki from Fushigi Yuugi.  Who, I might add, is male, thus keeping with my pattern of usually wanting to dress as male characters.  It wasn’t a very good costume, but I loved it.  I even sprayed my hair orange!  A beautifully blinding shade of orange.  One girl thought I looked like Buffy the vampire slayer, though, and I kept saying “But, like, I have orange hair.  How…?”

**Not affiliate links.  I had a snafu with my amazon account, and am trying to sort it out.  I’ll need to redo all my amazon affiliate links, which is going to suck.  I just wanted to be up front about what’s what around here, and I’ll still label all any affiliate links as such in their hovertext.

What Is Happening?

When I started WildBlueYoshi, way back when it was a wee little blog on xanga with just a few subscribers, I intended only to write about video games.  Then, a year or two later, I added crafts and books to my blog topics, making for a really unique (read:  weird and not at all relatable) niche.  I read all the blogging advice columns I could find and tried like hell to find a comprehensible meaning of SEO.  But, nothing I did worked for me, and I felt like I was grappling to find topics I could write about.  It was all very forced, and I didn’t like it, and I ended up barely posting anything for nearly two years.

Now, I kind of don’t give a shit anymore.  I think I’ll blog about whatever I want, whenever I feel like it.  Topics will no doubt vary wildly, but I’ll still include way too many pictures of my kitties.  The second half of that last sentence is wholly unsurprising, I’m sure.  If you like that, cool.  If not, I’m sure there are plenty of cat videos you can find elsewhere to distract yourself from real life.  None of those cats are cuter than mine, though.  Just so you know.

This has been a useless PSA.  Please enjoy this picture of our foster kitten, Camellia, for whom I still haven’t found a home, even though she’s adorable.  (She’s evil, too, but I don’t exactly advertise that to potential adopters.)

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“Hello. I’m Camellia and I destroy all of Mrs. Katy’s ponytail holders because I believe that they are the only thing more evil than I am.”

Six Months?

Okay, I didn’t totally abandon this blog.  I have thought about it a whole lot and isn’t it, like, the thought that counts?

Yeah, yeah, that’s not going to cut it.  I know.  So, here’s the deal on why I’ve been MIA for so long.  Part of it, anyway.

1)  I hate the internet a little bit lately.  Assholes are shaming others for DARING to critique video games while female, or insulting trans people, or just being all out dicks about stuff that shouldn’t bother them in the least.  When surfing the net makes me that mad or depressed, I steer clear of the computer altogether.

2)  Speaking of computers, mine is dying.  A lot of websites make it freeze up… Including mine.  Do you know how depressing it is to pull up my own website and watch it totally kill my computer?  Or to write part of a post just to have the browser crash and erase everything I wrote?  I need a new computer, stat, but I haven’t had the money to get one.  Which actually brings me to my next point.

3)  The “no money” thing?  Yeah, I got tired of that and got myself another job.  That means I’m working three part time jobs.  It’s a bit of an adjustment, and blogging has taken a backseat to stuff that actually pays the bills.

4)  There’s family drama, too.  I won’t give you the details because holy shit why is there so much drama.

5)  Due to something I alluded to in my first point above (I refuse to namecheck that bullshit), I have almost entirely lost interest in video games.  I don’t make money from playing or discussing games.  Why the hell should I put myself out there just to give internet trolls an excuse to dogpile me?  No, thank you.  Although, I really should get around to playing the copy of Dragon Age:  Inquisition that Hubbs got me for Christmas…

I think that about covers it.  You’re probably bored to tears by this point, so here’s a silly picture of me and my rescue cat, Crybaby.

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We cute and we know it.

Thank you for reading this far.  You are a saint and an angel and I love you and I wish I could send you a cookie.

NaNoWriMo 2014 Winner!

I have a real knack for abandoning this blog for months on end.  I don’t do it on purpose.  Really and truly, I don’t.  Anyway, this latest absence has two explanations.  The first I will be vague about, because… reasons.  The online geek community has just been kind of toxic lately and I haven’t wanted to be a part of that.  I honestly don’t want to elaborate any further so let’s leave that one alone.

The second reason is that I’m a winner.

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I am winning so hard. Even if I am utterly exhausted and want nothing more than to sleep after thirty days of writing into the wee hours of every morning.

I did NaNoWriMo for the first time ever and I TOTALLY won!  Here’s the rundown, in case you don’t know:  NaNoWriMo is short for National Novel Writing Month.  It’s a thing where you write a 50,000 word novel, or 50,000 words of a longer novel, in the month of November.  That averages to 1,667 words a day.  You “win” by simply writing 50,000 words!

I am slap worn out and can’t wait to go to sleep at a normal hour every night, but it was so worth it.  I have been writing original stories since I was, oh, ten?  Yet I’ve never finished anything worthwhile other than school papers and blog posts.  So, I wanted to do NaNo this year.  And I did it.  My crafts and other hobbies suffered terribly during November, but I wrote fifty.  Thousand.  Words.  I also created lots of characters who will eventually die horrible deaths.  No regrets, y’all.

Assuming that I work up the courage to reveal it publicly, I’ll try to make a post talking about my story.  In the meantime, I just wanted to brag about my accomplishment and explain my blogging absence.  That’s all.  I hope you all had a beautiful November.  Mwah!

Blankets, Big Knitting Needles, and Inappropriate Comments About Cows and Doctor Who

You are probably already aware that I’m kind of a terrible person.  I say a lot of stupid stuff and make poop jokes way too often.  My friends, thank goodness, pretend not to be disturbed by my odd brand of off-color humor.  It must be a difficult feat because anything can trigger unsettling thoughts in my head that shouldn’t be funny, but are so outlandish that they make me laugh myself into a coma.

One of these moments happened recently during a Facebook conversation with my friend Marcy.  While we were discussing the harmless topic of knitting blankets with great big needles and multiple strands of yarn, she made an innocent comment that was a catalyst for my signature creepy thoughts.  I have to share the conversation because it got bizarre as hell.

I have altered our profile pictures for this post.  Marcy is wonderful and squee-tastic, so her new picture is Pusheen the cat.  I am awful and take too much pleasure in things that should repulse me, so my new picture is Me Gusta.

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To see that David Tennant gif in action, go to this tumblr page.  Now imagine a cow is giving birth right in front of the Doctor.  Congratulations.  You can now enjoy the same lovely mental image that I will have every single time I have to save a dropped knit stitch.  Allons-y!

Marcy, here’s The Christmas Invasion. It’s $1.99 on Amazon Instant Video. Just thought I’d drop this little link here in case you wanted to get an episode of Doctor Who AND support my blog at the same time. But, you know. No pressure.

Here are some massive knitting needles. You can get a pair of US size 50 (25mm) circular needles that are 47 inches long. I kind of want some just to use as nunchuks.

To hear more of my weird thoughts, follow me on Twitter, Tumblr, and Facebook. I’m good at weird thoughts.