Granny Got Game

Smokin Sally.

2007-07-11T12:57:00.000-07:00

There's a new tenant at Willowbrooke. She calls herself, Smoking Sally. Sally refuses to wear her unmentionables, or anything else for that matter. The orderlies can do absolutely nothing with her. If they try to force the woman to clothe herself she does the most foul things.

Iris told me that Sally relieved her bowls right there on the floor when Rodney tried to force a bathrobe over her person.

She can be quite crusty and I fear, Iris has grown instantly fond of her. This could become a problem later on with Iris being a bit wild herself.

To make matters more frightful, this afternoon Iris took an official vote asking how many of our residents would like to, in her words, "break out and get a tat."

I'm not a fan of needles myself. Yet the rebellious side of my person finds the idea quite tempting. One must wonder how Mr. Hinkleshire would react were we all to sit around in our birthday suits wearing nothing but ink. It would certainly have to be more interesting than bingo.

IRIS IS GETTING SOMETHING SPECIAL

2007-03-27T13:25:00.000-07:00

We all pitched in and bought Henry his very own g-string. So he could dance today for Iris. It's her birthday! Happy birthday, dear.
Do be careful with Henry tonight. He has the brittle bone, you know.

Willowbrooke is haunted.

2007-02-07T10:21:00.000-08:00

I am ashamed to say I rudely admonished poor Mildred the first time she came to me in a panic saying she'd seen a ghost wandering the halls of the 4th floor. The idea as you might imagine was absurd!

Last night I saw this apparition myself. There is no question. Willowbrooke is haunted!

Iris and myself shall get to the bottom of this the very moment she finishes washing the chocolate pudding out of her hair. She's been fighting with Ethel again. I must say I was surprised at Ethel's strength. Not as surprised as Iris who found herself face down in Henry's lunch this afternoon with Ethel's cane dangerously close to her anus.

Injustice at Willowbrooke Reigns

2006-12-27T14:31:00.000-08:00

We, the residents at Willowbrooke are suffering an abuse of power!

Recently we lost the use of our computers again due to an unfortunate incident which had nothing at all to do with the internet.

It all began at the yearly Christmas party when Shirley gave Iris's son Peter, who recently decided to become a woman, a nut cracker and a battery operated dildo (with attachments) for Christmas.

Naturally Iris, being Iris, became quite angry. A brawl insued. Iris can be quite powerful when she's angry. Shirley's badly stained under pinings were pulled up through the back of her slacks with such force, they snapped free, rocketed across the room, and landed on Mr. Hinkleshire's shoulder. Mr. Hinkleshire was livid.

Consequently as a result of that one mishap all residents were confined to their own floors and their computers taken from them. We only got them back yesterday.

We, the residents of Willowbrooke are asking for help from the blogging community. Please sign our petition below and aid us in putting a halt to the cruel injustice we have endured under this man's rule.

To whom it may concern:
We, bloggers from all around the world, find the restrictions placed upon the innocent citizens of Willowbrooke Nursing Home to be a most heinous abuse of power. We insist this unjust treatment stop immediately or we shall take this story world wide. These kind and gentle souls must be allowed to communicate with the outside world via their computers!

Shirley is at it again.

2006-12-05T16:22:00.000-08:00

Well, Shirley has a new beau. The smell of channel number 13 has already taken out two of our residents. They'll be under the oxygen tent for a day or two at least. The rest of us are wearing nose plugs. The woman has no shame. She laying there, legs open to world like she's about to give birth. Iris finally closed her door, thank the good Lord.

Deck the Balls

2006-11-28T14:23:00.000-08:00

We've been grounded like school children. Our toys taken away. Our rights stomped on. We'll have no more of it.

By way of protest Iris, Ethel, and myself have begun decorating the halls of Willowbrooke.

The following song has been set to play along with this lovely adornment.

Deck the balls with nose hairs and polygrip
fa la la....la la..... la ...la....la...la

Bite our ass
cause we aren't dead yet.
fa la la.....la la.....la la la la

you can't ground us, we're your elders
FA LA LA...LA LA LA...LA LA LA

We all took a dose of ex lax
hope you enjoy the next few hourrrrrrrrrrs.

WE HAVE BEEN BANNED FOREVER!

2006-10-13T06:27:00.000-07:00

This is most unfortunate! I offer sincere apologies to Mildred, poor thing.

It has long been a dream for Mildred to become a member in good standing of the Red Hat Ladies. To this end she has written several letters and made numerous phone calls. At long last the snubby pisspots consented. Mildred's error in my opinion, was including myself, Iris, Ethel, and heaven help us, Snivel.

When the box of hats themselves arrived Mildred was beside herself. She wore the obnoxious thing everywhere she went. Iris and I found our bonnets to be quite itchy and cumbersome.

I digress.

The first meeting was to be held at a chinese buffet. The moment Iris heard this she immediately set her own plan in place. I confess, I did play a part in it but, it was a joke!
In short, I drugged Ethel's cat. Iris loaded the nasty thing into her handbag and off we went. The deed itself required Iris and I to visit the bar for a healthy dose of liquid courage. Once we'd had our fill of bravery juice we slipped the cat onto the buffet table.

It would seem neither the Red Hat Ladies nor the owners of the Chinese Buffet possess a sense of humor. I can't help but wonder if things might have gone better had Ethel not fainted and fallen face first into the mu shu pork.

We have been banned from both the Red Hat Ladies and the Chinese Buffet. Worst of all, the snobbish prats in the Red Hat club snatched Mildred's beloved hat from her noggin, tossed it on the floor and STOMPED ON IT! It's crushed beyond recognition. Iris tried to ment it but to no avail.

Mildred is in a state of grave depression.

Ethel's cat appears to have had a bad reaction to the valium. When she woke up she began walking sideways, crab-like. And two days later continues to do so.

Something about a side-stepping feline appeals to Snivel, who now wishes to purchase Ethel's cat offering various potions and trinkets. For the past 2 days the gypsy has followed Ethel about asking, "How much for the cat?"

Ethel as you might imagine is on the warpath.

Some things never change.

2006-10-11T13:26:00.000-07:00

Good Heavens! Crazy Charles has strapped another rocket to the back of his wheel chair. Where on earth does he find them?

The last time he did this he lit the thing and shot upward through the entire 4th floor and half of the 5th! Does no one on the staff watch this man? Yet Iris and I continue to be under house arrest for a few well placed rodents?

Well, I hope this time he flies right through the nurses station and Mr. Hinkleshire's fancy paneled office.

I am most excited!

2006-10-06T12:49:00.000-07:00

Iris and I slipped out again last night for a much needed repast. While we were out and about we had the most delicious idea! So we found a pet shop and bought an entire box of white mice. Early this morn, we slipped into Ethel's room as she slept and slipped the box of rodents beneath her bed. Iris estimates it will only take an hour or so for them to chew through the carrying container and spill out into Ethel's room.

We are eagerly awaiting her screams. Oh this is such fun!

On a darker note, after leaving the package in Ethel's room we slipped in quietly to finger's bedside. As she lay there snoring like a jackhammer, we tossed her bedside table. That is detective phrasing meaning we searched it. And to my horror we found a photo of a man. Not just any man. But the hairy knuckled gentleman I serviced. My only John. I do not know what this means but I am afraid it can't be good.

The six fingered gypsy.

2006-10-03T15:31:00.000-07:00

Reprehensible!

I am unsettled to say the least. All my prayers for the demise of Tilly the bed shitter have obviously earned me ill-favor in the eyes of the Lord. I most heartily believe, the punishment he has chosen to meat out, far out-weighs the crime! A six-fingered gypsy has nestled her gnarled ass-cheeks in the bed next to mine.

The woman was sent straight from the fire pits of hell! She is a most homely beast and rarely does she speak anything that makes sense! Just when I thought the situation could not be worse she unpacked the most hideous assortment of belongings viewed by the human eye, since Ethel was caught walking in her sleep naked down the 12th floor hallway.

The crone possesses shrunken heads in jars! A variety of hair clippings, bags of toenails, and a garlic necklace that she keeps hanging over her bed.

How much must I endure? I have requested a new room. Thanks to Ethel's incessant tattling, Mr. Hinkleshire has flat refused to co-operate saying I have a beligerant nature and do not play well with others? Is this a playground then?

This can not stand. I will not abide sharing my room with a six-fingered, gypsy witch! It is intolerable. The woman reeks of body odor and garlic. I simply won't have it. Action will be taken, mark my word!

Finally!

2006-10-02T14:48:00.000-07:00

Well, it's finally happened. Tilly the shitter, died last evening. Choked on her jello. The jello appears to be somewhat of a mystery since Tilly was only able to eat intraveniously. It appears that someone spooned the jelled desert into that gaping wound of a mouth until finally, she choked to death.

My joy at Tilly's demise was short lived. They wasted no time in bringing in a new room mate for me. I hadn't thought it possible for another human being to be more foul than Tilly, the shitter. I was wrong.

I had pulled the drape closed around my bed to grant myself some privacy. This, harpy, had the nerve to try and open my privacy curtain. All I have seen of her, is her hand. And that was quite enough! She takes residence tomorrow in the am. Needless to say, I am most distressed!

Iris was arrested!

2006-09-26T05:45:00.000-07:00

Iris and her guide dog turned up at my door promptly at 8. Having taken her medication she was once again lucid and ready for a night out. No one seems to know where she had disappeared to yesterday, including Iris, herself. All seemed well enough so we continued with our evening escape plans.

In route to our corner to begin what we hope will become a lucrative whoring business, Iris asked if I would mind making a brief visit to the local bar. To my astonishment, Iris is quite the barfly! A few off color jokes by a blind woman and soon enough every mother's son was supplying us with free alcoholic beverages. Why, even Dubbin the dog was lapping left over beers from an ashtray someone had cleaned and placed on the floor.

All went well until the fight. I do not know what occured to set Iris off. Peanuts flew, followed by bottles, then glasses, and soon she was sprawled across a young man on the floor biting his ear! Two strapping young fellows tried to pry her off the poor lad but it was impossible. At 84 she still has quite a grip and her teeth are her own!

The police came and took Iris away in their paddy wagon.

Rodney was displeased to say the least when he arrived at the police station to bail her out. Not to mention appalled by Dubbin's drunkeness, constant hiccupping, and inability to walk straight. He went on and on about animal cruelty during the ride back to Willowbrooke. Rodney is threatening to put a stop to our outings. I do hope he'll change his mind.

I have been accused of attempted murder!

2006-09-22T11:32:00.000-07:00

The skinny bitch down the hall from my room has filed a formal complaint against me. She's told the staff and anyone else who will listen that I tried to kill her!

I do regret what took place but I assure you, had I wanted her dead, I would not have botched the job. She sustained minimal damage. A small lump upon her head. If she had returned my laptop as I asked, nothing would have occured. She refused to give it back when I went in to retrieve it. Can you imagine? We argued. I attempted to pull the laptop from her gnarled grasp and she would not release it! So I hit her over the head with my handbag. It's as simple as that.

In any case, I have regained possession of my computer. And I'll not be loaning it out again.

My first "John".

2006-09-15T11:10:00.000-07:00

Whoring is not as easy as I thought it might be. Last night I moved to a corner further down the road where there would be fewer holes to compete with.

Business wasn't exactly booming on my corner but I did land a fish at the end of the night. He had bodily hair much like that of an ape. I was shocked to see a thick pelt sprouting from his knuckles! No wonder the poor man has to pay for sexual favors. No right thinking woman would bed him.

As luck would have it my John could only afford oral sex. It was a terrible business. I nearly developed lock jaw before he achieved his final success. Once done, I literally said a prayer of thanks.

I do hope this job improves soon. I was hoping to spend more time on my back and less on my knees. Thank the Lord I thought to take a towel. It's the only thing that saved my knee caps.

Whoring.

2006-09-14T12:50:00.000-07:00

Whoring is far more competitive than I thought it would be. There are 3 other ladies on my corner. They all move faster than I. Last evening a negro woman, thin as a twig, informed me that they no longer refer to themselves as whores. They are called, "holes" or "working women". I suppose I will have to edit my profile to say, "apprentice hole".

The negro woman chattered constantly. I found it annoying. I believe she had a terrible head cold. She sniffed all night. I hope I do not catch it.

When I arrived back at the home I was greeted by the ripe aroma of Tilly's soiled diaper. They've been giving her plums again. Her bowels smell like fruit and decomposed bodies. She nearly died around 6 this morning but the hateful staff brought in their paddles and electronic gizmos and brought her back. Now she has soiled her diaper again. I don't understand why they don't let the old bitch die and be done with it.

Hi asswipe!

2006-09-13T14:12:00.000-07:00

Granny here, ready to roll up your ass! My goodness, this feels marvelous.

My name is Granny mae and I live in a fucked up retirement home. They feed us slop and my room mate wears diapers. My day life was shit until my friend Rodney, a nurses aid on the night shift and a fine black stud of a man, gave me this laptop.

My night life swings. I am learning to be a whore. With removeable teeth and these tits, I should make enough to blow this pop stand in a couple of months.