Monday, 8 September 2014


joan rivers, kelly osbourne, marge simpson, piggly wiggly, things on piggly wiggly's head,
and I wouldn't match the perfection that is this thing on Piggly Wiggly's head. (Oh, and just so you know? That's her mother's hand aiding and abetting this little escapade.)

It's been a totally boring weekend as far as celebrity boobs and scandals go, so I've decided to do all of us a solid and start the week off with a bundle of Piggly joy instead. Because it was either that or write about Joan Rivers' funeral, which would entail risking full-body heaves on account of whatever the heck Kelly Osbourne has on her head. And speaking of things on one's head *kisses  fingertips: "Magnificent segue, dahling! Your best yet!"* get a load of what's going on in this picture, above.

Yes, obviously, I visited my Piggly recently, and let me tell you it was about seven different kinds of delightful. At least it was in my opinion, and until Piggly starts coughing up a few more words than "up" and "phfffhtt" (seriously, kid, how hard is it to say "Glamma?" Gla ... Ma. See? Even I can say it and I'm drunk as a lemur!), my opinion is going to have to serve as fact.

So, I arrived, self-invited as always, at the self-invited hour of Piggly's bedtime, bottle of Sledgehammer shiraz and a suitcasefull of Piggly headgear in tow. Because in case you haven't been paying attention, my daughter and I have a bit of an obsession with putting things on Piggly Wiggly's head. (My daughter started it, just so Children's Aid everybody knows.) Piggly clearly enjoys it so it just keeps getting bigger and better; it's now reached the point where friends and co-workers are actually bringing things to work and saying: "You know what would look good on Miss P.W's head? This bagfull of weird crap I brought!" 

I won't bore you with the details of all the headgear that didn't make the cut, but I will tell you that this one item that did? This Marge Simpson wig handmade by crazy Auntie Jane, honorary godmother and best Piggly Wiggly headdresser yet? This. Thing. Rocks. 

Taking this photo was no mean feat  within the first two seconds Piggly had ripped a fistfull of feathers out of it and within the second two it had swallowed her entire head and even I, in my drunken stupour, could tell she wasn't loving it. So I did what any decent Glamma would do: I repositioned it and sternly told her, "Look, we're just going to keep doing this until we get it right. You can fight it or you can work with me ... but I'm bigger than you are and I will win."

In the end, Piggly wised up and we got the perfect picture. Seriously. I don't think there's anywhere we can take this game that's going to beat what we accomplished here today. Unless, of course, you have a suggestion? Or one of these? (Email me. We'll talk.)