More evidence my car is demon-possessed, like Christine:
It's always making sounds. Did you see that Paranormal Activity movie where the demon hardly does anything except hang around the house at night and make too much noise like your stoner roommate? Well, this is much worse than that.
The car has begun making exploding noises. It sounds like firecrackers are going off under my passenger seat. At first, I thought this was an entirely likely scenario, but I checked, and THERE ARE NO FIRECRACKERS UNDER THERE.
Now, the car squeals, bounces up and down, and does civil war reenactments under the passenger seat. It's haunted. It's a devil car.
I kind of like it, but it's really hard to focus and drive while constantly looking around to make sure the car hasn't burst into flames. Which I'm certain is the next step.
Maybe an exorcism.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Biiiiiiiiiig Spider!
Every fall, tarantulas migrate down from the mountain behind our house to the lake bed below. Tonight, I saw the first one of the season. Naturally, I stopped the car, jumped out and ran over to enjoy being horrified by the GIANT EFFING SPIDER.
It was the size of my palm, and outrageously hairy. It didn't seem to be in any hurry, and seemed unperturbed by my screams of disgust. But since it didn't have eyebrows or lips, I admit it was hard for me to accurately read its facial expressions.
I tried to take a picture with my phone. It was difficult to focus, though, because I couldn't stop dancing around, screaming "ew ew ew." As a result, many of the photos are blurry.
I'm glad I got to see it. It was a thrill, and it's always fun to interact with nature by screaming at it in horror. Judging by the look in his eight little eyes, and the smirk on his venom-dripping, blood-soaked mandibles, I think he enjoyed it, too.
It was the size of my palm, and outrageously hairy. It didn't seem to be in any hurry, and seemed unperturbed by my screams of disgust. But since it didn't have eyebrows or lips, I admit it was hard for me to accurately read its facial expressions.
I tried to take a picture with my phone. It was difficult to focus, though, because I couldn't stop dancing around, screaming "ew ew ew." As a result, many of the photos are blurry.
I'm glad I got to see it. It was a thrill, and it's always fun to interact with nature by screaming at it in horror. Judging by the look in his eight little eyes, and the smirk on his venom-dripping, blood-soaked mandibles, I think he enjoyed it, too.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
jazzy bmx
I'm the worst blogger. I just don't have anything to say. But check this out:
Outside my office window right now, there's a little grade school boy sport-riding a jazzy up and down the street. Somewhere, there's an old lady who's fallen and can't get up.
Oh, I see his poor old grammaw slumped over on her porch swing. I can't tell if she's watching him abuse her jazzy, or if she's having a stroke. Someone at Medicare would probably be interested in this patent abuse of taxpayer dollars. I recommend, nay, demand the death panels for this lady.
OMG, he just popped a little wheelie. He's got a buddy on a little bike, and they seem to have formed a little bicycle/jazzy gang. They're terrorizing the neighborhood. How did this happen?
I'm so happy right now.
Outside my office window right now, there's a little grade school boy sport-riding a jazzy up and down the street. Somewhere, there's an old lady who's fallen and can't get up.
Oh, I see his poor old grammaw slumped over on her porch swing. I can't tell if she's watching him abuse her jazzy, or if she's having a stroke. Someone at Medicare would probably be interested in this patent abuse of taxpayer dollars. I recommend, nay, demand the death panels for this lady.
OMG, he just popped a little wheelie. He's got a buddy on a little bike, and they seem to have formed a little bicycle/jazzy gang. They're terrorizing the neighborhood. How did this happen?
I'm so happy right now.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Mouse Update, or Deadmau5
Sadly, both mouselets quickly shuffled off this mortal coil. But at least they had some delicious snacks before they expired.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Mouse House
It is my custom, upon returning home from work, to first tend to the animals. I feed the horses, goats, chickens, dogs, then cats. Our unfinished basement functions as a feedroom for these creatures, and tonight when I entered said feedroom, I saw something new.
A tiny baby mouse was sitting, frozen with fear, in the center of the room, and was being menaced by Monkey. Even though I know they're vermin, and teeming with disease, I have a soft spot for mice. Especially baby mice. So I chased Monkey off, and scooped the little mouselet into a plastic feed bucket. While I considered what to do next, I added some scratch grains to the bucket, to see if little Mickey was hungry. He was ravenous, and watching him eat made me realize I love him and have to raise him to adulthood, so I can release him outdoors and sing "Born Free" as he scampers off to meet some lady mice.
Later tonight, David found Mickey's brother in the same place, being menaced by Leo. I think it's nice that they have each other for company. They're safely installed in our laundry room now, still in the bucket, but now with pine shavings, delicious food, bedding and water. They look happy. I envision a time, once they're grown and out on their own, when we'll meet again. Probably I'll encounter them eating my crackers or pooping in my cutlery drawer, but I'll be happy to see them.
David won't, though. He still hates those meeses to pieces.
A tiny baby mouse was sitting, frozen with fear, in the center of the room, and was being menaced by Monkey. Even though I know they're vermin, and teeming with disease, I have a soft spot for mice. Especially baby mice. So I chased Monkey off, and scooped the little mouselet into a plastic feed bucket. While I considered what to do next, I added some scratch grains to the bucket, to see if little Mickey was hungry. He was ravenous, and watching him eat made me realize I love him and have to raise him to adulthood, so I can release him outdoors and sing "Born Free" as he scampers off to meet some lady mice.
Later tonight, David found Mickey's brother in the same place, being menaced by Leo. I think it's nice that they have each other for company. They're safely installed in our laundry room now, still in the bucket, but now with pine shavings, delicious food, bedding and water. They look happy. I envision a time, once they're grown and out on their own, when we'll meet again. Probably I'll encounter them eating my crackers or pooping in my cutlery drawer, but I'll be happy to see them.
David won't, though. He still hates those meeses to pieces.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Woodland Critter Riot
Here on the farm, I'm a favorite of our animals. Basically, I'm a walking food dispenser. You know how on the cartoons, when someone is really hungry, they'll look at another person and see a roast chicken? I think when the farm animals look at me, they see a giant bag of oats. They expect treats when they see me, and they're rarely disappointed.
Rarely.
Recently, we ran out of the goats' oats and scratch grains for the chickens. We were on vacation, and our pet sitter was diligent in following my instructions to "give the goats and chickens grain for treats if you want to." And you know how it is the week after vacation...you're getting caught up on laundry, cleaning, unpacking...so grain-shopping can fall by the wayside.
Well, apparently, there's only so much my animals are willing to take.
It started innocently. The chickens followed me around, clucking to each other eagerly, looking at me expectantly, then standing by the back door, crestfallen, as I left them treatless. But too soon, it escalated into something much uglier. One day, Jezebel the goat rammed the back door as I was going back inside. She forced her way into the basement with me, and demanded to know where the grain had gone. I had to lure her back out with an empty bucket. This was a blatant lie, and I knew I'd pay for this subterfuge. I just didn't know how dearly I would pay.
The next time I went out to feed, I was prepared. I had finally purchased grain for both the goats and the chickens. I admit that when I looked through the glass door, I was a bit nervous about the scene I observed. There they were, seven chickens and two goats, lined up and glaring at me through the window. I swear, some of the chickens had their wings folded over their chests and were tapping their feet impatiently. Their anger was apparent, but surely they'd forgive me once they saw I'd finally brought their grain....
But no. As soon as I walked out the door, I was attacked. Surrounded by outraged goats and chickens. They circled me, eyeing me angrily, muttering to themselves. It reminded me of a scene from Grease, only both gangs were after me and there was no singing to lighten the mood. The goats approached, and, essentially, tried to climb me. I don't know how else to describe it. They stood on their hind legs, and tried to climb their way up to where I held the oat bucket. A riot erupted. The chickens began jumping up, trying to snatch the grains out of my hands. It was like something out of a Hitchcock movie, and I immediately regreted not capturing it on film for the You Tubes.
I'm sure you'll be relieved to hear I wasn't badly hurt. I was covered in dirt and hoofprints, and got a couple of bruises on my legs from where the goats were able to get a foothold, but I'm fine now. I'm also very glad to report that something good came out of all this. Once the riot began to wind down, I realized I could essentially choreograph the goats' and chickens' moves to follow the grain bucket. Now, instead of a woodland critter riot, we have a dance troupe. And they're quite good.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Training Day
Locked in a windowless room with a bunch of lawyers. It's my employer's annual 2-day long training, and it is draining my will to live. I want to love my job, but it's making it hard. I think my job wants me to break up with it.
First of all, it's hotter than hell in here, and these gasbags are sucking all the air out of the room. And, to add insult to injury, there are no refreshments, and although lunch is provided, it's from the craptastic courthouse cafeteria and we're required to eat it in this fiery hell closet of a training room while some blowhard yammers on.
I am willing to acknowledge that a lot of the trouble I have with training is entirely due to my unmedicated ADD. But this sucks.
I wish there were scented markers. At my previous employer, we had scented markers, and the cinnamon one even tasted good!
I've been told I have a bad attitude, but I don't think that's true. All I want is some scented markers.
First of all, it's hotter than hell in here, and these gasbags are sucking all the air out of the room. And, to add insult to injury, there are no refreshments, and although lunch is provided, it's from the craptastic courthouse cafeteria and we're required to eat it in this fiery hell closet of a training room while some blowhard yammers on.
I am willing to acknowledge that a lot of the trouble I have with training is entirely due to my unmedicated ADD. But this sucks.
I wish there were scented markers. At my previous employer, we had scented markers, and the cinnamon one even tasted good!
I've been told I have a bad attitude, but I don't think that's true. All I want is some scented markers.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Dominican Holiday
So, the mister and I just returned from a week of frolic in the Dominican Republic. Some of the highlights:
-GINORMOUS rats gamboling in the center of the resort grounds. I was alone the first time I encountered the megarats. It should be added that it was really the middle of the night. Like maybe 2 a.m. Still, giant feral rats were charming, and captured my imagination for the rest of the trip. What do they eat? Do they ever become aggressive if affronted? Do they have dreams and aspirations beyond the acquisition of trail mix? What diseases do their fleas carry?
-Found a conch whilst snorkeling, took it back to resort, suggested to kitchen staff that we attempt to eat it. Success. Kitchen staff clearly interested to see whether I'd really eat it. I did.
-Saw a HUGE, aggressive spider. It lunged at David. Later, discovered many confounding bites all over my legs. Can't say conclusively that the two are linked. Just seems likely.
-Observed main mode of public transport: little motorcycle taxis. Awesome, right? Except saw many moms holding 2-3 infants at a time while riding these death rockets right next to giant busses. Did you know? No such thing as a baby-helmet. So that's gotta change.
-Clearly, booze is watered down at resort. Took diligent efforts to acquire and maintain proper buzz. Dear Riu Resort; WTF? I am still thirsty, and oddly, still not drunk. So ANGRY.
-Sampled local beverage: mamajuana. Supposed to be an aphrodisiac. Comprised of wood and herbs soaked in rum. Not bad, really. Also, enjoyed constant cries of "Drinky! Drinky! Very Good!" from servers. "Drinky Drinky" has become new party mantra.
-Enjoyed nightly live entertainment. Still, don't think I understood it. Every night, seemed like mystifying hybrid of "Sabado Gigante" and "Peewee's Playhouse." Periodically, performers would shriek what must have been "the word of the day." Then, all performers launched into hectic, frenetic dance to the sound of bongo drums.
A good time was had by all.
-GINORMOUS rats gamboling in the center of the resort grounds. I was alone the first time I encountered the megarats. It should be added that it was really the middle of the night. Like maybe 2 a.m. Still, giant feral rats were charming, and captured my imagination for the rest of the trip. What do they eat? Do they ever become aggressive if affronted? Do they have dreams and aspirations beyond the acquisition of trail mix? What diseases do their fleas carry?
-Found a conch whilst snorkeling, took it back to resort, suggested to kitchen staff that we attempt to eat it. Success. Kitchen staff clearly interested to see whether I'd really eat it. I did.
-Saw a HUGE, aggressive spider. It lunged at David. Later, discovered many confounding bites all over my legs. Can't say conclusively that the two are linked. Just seems likely.
-Observed main mode of public transport: little motorcycle taxis. Awesome, right? Except saw many moms holding 2-3 infants at a time while riding these death rockets right next to giant busses. Did you know? No such thing as a baby-helmet. So that's gotta change.
-Clearly, booze is watered down at resort. Took diligent efforts to acquire and maintain proper buzz. Dear Riu Resort; WTF? I am still thirsty, and oddly, still not drunk. So ANGRY.
-Sampled local beverage: mamajuana. Supposed to be an aphrodisiac. Comprised of wood and herbs soaked in rum. Not bad, really. Also, enjoyed constant cries of "Drinky! Drinky! Very Good!" from servers. "Drinky Drinky" has become new party mantra.
-Enjoyed nightly live entertainment. Still, don't think I understood it. Every night, seemed like mystifying hybrid of "Sabado Gigante" and "Peewee's Playhouse." Periodically, performers would shriek what must have been "the word of the day." Then, all performers launched into hectic, frenetic dance to the sound of bongo drums.
A good time was had by all.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Life Suppressant
Still enjoying the will to live? Try watching the film Synedoche, New York. That'll fix that.
My God! Why did I try to stop drinking this week, of all weeks?
This film is an apocalyptic sob-scape. A terrifying descent into a nightmare world full of people who look like Phillip Seymour Hoffman! How is there a market for this crap? I want to gouge out my own eyes, to protect myself from ever seeing anything this horrifying again! But I can't let this be the last thing I see!
Oh, God! Save me from this all-you-can-eat-misery-buffet. And, seriously...why is that one lady's house always on fire? Is it really a metaphor, or do these people just like jerking us around? I suspect it's the latter. And I'm mad as hell.
Don't watch it. Just don't.
My God! Why did I try to stop drinking this week, of all weeks?
This film is an apocalyptic sob-scape. A terrifying descent into a nightmare world full of people who look like Phillip Seymour Hoffman! How is there a market for this crap? I want to gouge out my own eyes, to protect myself from ever seeing anything this horrifying again! But I can't let this be the last thing I see!
Oh, God! Save me from this all-you-can-eat-misery-buffet. And, seriously...why is that one lady's house always on fire? Is it really a metaphor, or do these people just like jerking us around? I suspect it's the latter. And I'm mad as hell.
Don't watch it. Just don't.
Christine
It's possible, even likely, that my car is now inhabited by the spirit of some unholy demon. Yesterday when I got in and turned the key, the car quickly locked and unlocked, locked and unlocked the doors. Then, when the car started, it sort of jumped up and down and made a squealing sound.
"That's new," I thought. But I drove to work anyway.
Then, at one point during today's morning drive, I heard a new sound. A strange new sound. It sounded like a mouse chorus. Could it be that? Because once, this winter, as I drove to work in the morning, I noticed a frightened little mouse totally surfing the hood of my car. David hates those meeses to pieces. Not me. I named him Ralph and considered getting him a motorcycle. I would have made him a tiny helmet out of a ping pong ball. But he ran away when I parked.
My theory is this: remember that movie Christine? An unusually angry car comes to life, and is intent on killing everyone. I can't imagine what would drive (ha!) a car to such lengths, but then again, I know I've forgotten a lot of major plot points because the movie was terribly long and boring. Anyway, maybe my car is like Christine now, and is gearing (ha!) up to kill a bunch of teenagers. In fact, maybe car is going on killing sprees during the day, while I'm busy at work! But then, why doesn't car wash itself?
Stupid car.
Hey, Erika! Thanks for the extensions. They're hot.
"That's new," I thought. But I drove to work anyway.
Then, at one point during today's morning drive, I heard a new sound. A strange new sound. It sounded like a mouse chorus. Could it be that? Because once, this winter, as I drove to work in the morning, I noticed a frightened little mouse totally surfing the hood of my car. David hates those meeses to pieces. Not me. I named him Ralph and considered getting him a motorcycle. I would have made him a tiny helmet out of a ping pong ball. But he ran away when I parked.
My theory is this: remember that movie Christine? An unusually angry car comes to life, and is intent on killing everyone. I can't imagine what would drive (ha!) a car to such lengths, but then again, I know I've forgotten a lot of major plot points because the movie was terribly long and boring. Anyway, maybe my car is like Christine now, and is gearing (ha!) up to kill a bunch of teenagers. In fact, maybe car is going on killing sprees during the day, while I'm busy at work! But then, why doesn't car wash itself?
Stupid car.
Hey, Erika! Thanks for the extensions. They're hot.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Satan's Stationary Hell-cat
So, we looked into the cat across the street conundrum. My secretary SWEARS it's a cat-statue. But guess what? I don't care. Hey, stupid stationary cat...I'm still watching you. Waiting. My time will come.
Cas and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day
Hey, Guy....
Guy who's 'cabin' I was supposed to find today. Guess what? You needed to clarify that you live in a CABIN in the MOUNTAINS at the end of a 4x4 track to hell. It was a lovely drive, really, but I don't think you can fault me for giving up, as I was driving a sports sedan with about an inch of clearance, which would pretty much get hung up on a horse turd.
So leave my secretary be. She doesn't mean any personal affront. And neither do I. We're both doing the best we can with limited resources, and REALLY if you expect visitors, maybe consider mentioning they should be equipped with four wheel drive and prepared for an adventure!
Also, don't be such a dick.
Guy who's 'cabin' I was supposed to find today. Guess what? You needed to clarify that you live in a CABIN in the MOUNTAINS at the end of a 4x4 track to hell. It was a lovely drive, really, but I don't think you can fault me for giving up, as I was driving a sports sedan with about an inch of clearance, which would pretty much get hung up on a horse turd.
So leave my secretary be. She doesn't mean any personal affront. And neither do I. We're both doing the best we can with limited resources, and REALLY if you expect visitors, maybe consider mentioning they should be equipped with four wheel drive and prepared for an adventure!
Also, don't be such a dick.
Lily and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day
So, I went riding Saturday, and it was lovely. Bailey was an ANGEL! Nothing untoward happened at all! At least with us...
Halfway through the ride, Lily yelped. Just once. Then she ran up behind me and Bailey, and just walked behind us for the rest of the ride. Later that night, David and I discovered that something had cut Lily on her side. Badly. The cut had torn her skin completely off, all the way down to her muscle. It. Was. Gross.
So, she had to have stitches. The vet gave her the normal first dose of sedative, and Lily went limp. The vet said she was a lightweight. When she got home, she still couldn't walk on her own, and she had a weird look on her face. Her eyes were red and droopy, and her jowls were saggy, too. It took her all day to recover.
Luckily, the vet left an opening below the last stitch, where Lily's lucky parents can insert the tube of antibiotic salve and SHOOT IT DIRECTLY INTO THE OOZING WOUND. That's right. That's how we roll now.
Jesus.
Hey, Erika...can you do extensions yet?
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Springtime in the Desert....
Ahhh, Utah's beautiful high desert. The smell of sage, the golden plains dappled with sunlight, grasses rippling in the hurricane force winds...
Yeah, it's springtime. The wind is howling like a movie sound effect of howling wind. Everything outside is bent at a comical 90-degree angle. Sometimes, something improbable will cartwheel through the yard. Recently, an entire dog house blew across the back yard. Every toy the neighbor kids have ever brought outside has just flown by my house. A basketball AND hoop...a skateboard AND homemade ramp. Just waiting for one of the kids to blow by now. Heh heh. Kind of looking forward to that, really.
Anyway, the good news is that the weather is not at all constant in the Spring. Yesterday was so lovely, I had to leave work early, due to feelings of extreme wellness. The sky was blue, the birds were singing, and I had a date with doom.
You might remember the last time I rode Bailey...it ended with me walking home. Well, I know this is party my fault for not riding him enough, and I've vowed to make up for that by riding the legs off of him every chance I get. And that's what I did yesterday.
Things started out well. So well, in fact, that I became suspicious. Normally when I saddle Bailey, we play this little game where he launches into the sky, squealing and bucking and basically blowing smoke from his nostrils. That's all part of the routine. But yesterday, there was none of that...this made me uneasy. Was he saving his energy for something much worse?
I decided to longe him. This is where you put your horse on a very long lead rope-a longe line-and encourage him to walk, trot and lope in a circle around you. It's a good warm up, and teaches the horse that you control his feet. This is where things got weird. Bailey skipped walk and trot, and basically went straight to dead run at the end of the longe line. Have you ever flown a kite in a hurricane? I think this was like that. One good thing was that he wasn't bucking very much, but I think that's because he was focused on building up speed for some kind of takeoff. Seriously, there were times I was pretty sure he was no longer earthbound.
After a while, it occurred to me that this wasn't doing anything but tiring ME out, so I decided to take a break. The funny thing about Bailey is that, when we're not locked in a struggle to the death, he is extremely loving. So we cuddled for a while. Then I decided to get on.
Nothing happened at first. I guess it rarely does. He likes to lull me into a false sense of security. We got down the road about half a mile before things went sideways. Literally. A distant four-wheeler made Bailey remember he had meant to kill us all, and he exploded into the air, spinning and bolting, and making those troubling squealing/snorting noises I wrote about before.
I got him calmed down after a while. I mean, relatively. He stopped bucking, but continued to basically gallop in place for the rest of our ride. He got a work out, though. By the end of our ride, he was literally in a lather. So when we got home, I rubbed him down with hot water and gave him some treats. We made up and cuddled some more, and agreed to fight again tomorrow.
Remember those cartoons with the coyote and the sheep dog? They're buddies until the work whistle blows, then it's the coyote's job to try to eat the sheep, and the sheep dog's job to, essentially, try to kill the coyote. Then, when the whistle blows at the end of the day, all is forgiven and they're friends again. It's like that for me and Bailey.
Yeah, it's springtime. The wind is howling like a movie sound effect of howling wind. Everything outside is bent at a comical 90-degree angle. Sometimes, something improbable will cartwheel through the yard. Recently, an entire dog house blew across the back yard. Every toy the neighbor kids have ever brought outside has just flown by my house. A basketball AND hoop...a skateboard AND homemade ramp. Just waiting for one of the kids to blow by now. Heh heh. Kind of looking forward to that, really.
Anyway, the good news is that the weather is not at all constant in the Spring. Yesterday was so lovely, I had to leave work early, due to feelings of extreme wellness. The sky was blue, the birds were singing, and I had a date with doom.
You might remember the last time I rode Bailey...it ended with me walking home. Well, I know this is party my fault for not riding him enough, and I've vowed to make up for that by riding the legs off of him every chance I get. And that's what I did yesterday.
Things started out well. So well, in fact, that I became suspicious. Normally when I saddle Bailey, we play this little game where he launches into the sky, squealing and bucking and basically blowing smoke from his nostrils. That's all part of the routine. But yesterday, there was none of that...this made me uneasy. Was he saving his energy for something much worse?
I decided to longe him. This is where you put your horse on a very long lead rope-a longe line-and encourage him to walk, trot and lope in a circle around you. It's a good warm up, and teaches the horse that you control his feet. This is where things got weird. Bailey skipped walk and trot, and basically went straight to dead run at the end of the longe line. Have you ever flown a kite in a hurricane? I think this was like that. One good thing was that he wasn't bucking very much, but I think that's because he was focused on building up speed for some kind of takeoff. Seriously, there were times I was pretty sure he was no longer earthbound.
After a while, it occurred to me that this wasn't doing anything but tiring ME out, so I decided to take a break. The funny thing about Bailey is that, when we're not locked in a struggle to the death, he is extremely loving. So we cuddled for a while. Then I decided to get on.
Nothing happened at first. I guess it rarely does. He likes to lull me into a false sense of security. We got down the road about half a mile before things went sideways. Literally. A distant four-wheeler made Bailey remember he had meant to kill us all, and he exploded into the air, spinning and bolting, and making those troubling squealing/snorting noises I wrote about before.
I got him calmed down after a while. I mean, relatively. He stopped bucking, but continued to basically gallop in place for the rest of our ride. He got a work out, though. By the end of our ride, he was literally in a lather. So when we got home, I rubbed him down with hot water and gave him some treats. We made up and cuddled some more, and agreed to fight again tomorrow.
Remember those cartoons with the coyote and the sheep dog? They're buddies until the work whistle blows, then it's the coyote's job to try to eat the sheep, and the sheep dog's job to, essentially, try to kill the coyote. Then, when the whistle blows at the end of the day, all is forgiven and they're friends again. It's like that for me and Bailey.
So, it's been a while...
I'm not sure I'm cut out for blogging. I've got this hilarious internal monologue happening, but it wouldn't make sense if I wrote it down. And it seems like nothing exciting ever happens to me to write about. But I'll try. Here are some updates:
First, the next time we went to Tepanyaki, everything WAS nailed down. Guess they got the message. Also, it wasn't very good. I know they're not really renowned for sushi, but seriously? My octopus was still frozen. It was a sushi-sicle, and that's not what I wanted. That might be refreshing in the summer, though. You could put frozen sashimi on popsicle sticks and....gross, man. I just got a visual. That just goes to prove what I've always said, "Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should."
Anyway, after the still-frozen sushi, we reconvened at Nick and Erika's hotel room. There, we got tanked and dressed Angelique up in different outfits. This was very exciting for me, because I've always wanted a pet midget. If I had a midget, I'd dress it up in grown up outfits all the time. Anyway, Leak's not a midget, but she is very tiny. So it was fun to dress her up.
Then we went to W Lounge, where I met a tranny named Princess Pretty Pants. That wasn't his name, but that's what I called him. He was pungent, though. Why did he spend so much time on his hair and make up, but then neglect to EVER shower? EVER? Princess Pretty Pants, if you're out there, you have a hygiene problem. I'm telling you this because I care about you. You are a ripe little tranny.
After that, Akiko went limp. We had to carry her back to the hotel and put her to bed on the fold-out. And she kept trying to escape, claiming she was "fine to drive!" Fine to drive, but completely devoid of all motor skills? Maybe...but it was better to have her sleep at the hotel.
First, the next time we went to Tepanyaki, everything WAS nailed down. Guess they got the message. Also, it wasn't very good. I know they're not really renowned for sushi, but seriously? My octopus was still frozen. It was a sushi-sicle, and that's not what I wanted. That might be refreshing in the summer, though. You could put frozen sashimi on popsicle sticks and....gross, man. I just got a visual. That just goes to prove what I've always said, "Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should."
Anyway, after the still-frozen sushi, we reconvened at Nick and Erika's hotel room. There, we got tanked and dressed Angelique up in different outfits. This was very exciting for me, because I've always wanted a pet midget. If I had a midget, I'd dress it up in grown up outfits all the time. Anyway, Leak's not a midget, but she is very tiny. So it was fun to dress her up.
Then we went to W Lounge, where I met a tranny named Princess Pretty Pants. That wasn't his name, but that's what I called him. He was pungent, though. Why did he spend so much time on his hair and make up, but then neglect to EVER shower? EVER? Princess Pretty Pants, if you're out there, you have a hygiene problem. I'm telling you this because I care about you. You are a ripe little tranny.
After that, Akiko went limp. We had to carry her back to the hotel and put her to bed on the fold-out. And she kept trying to escape, claiming she was "fine to drive!" Fine to drive, but completely devoid of all motor skills? Maybe...but it was better to have her sleep at the hotel.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Angelique is Here
Angelique has problems with impulse control. Me, too. Look out, Tepanyaki. Are you listening, Erika? Things are about to get weird.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
ADD? Or do I rack a disciprine?
Can't focus today. There's this house across the street from my office. What are they doing in there? What a ragtag bunch of ne'er-do-wells. They're always outside, loitering on the steps, smoking godknowswhat. Scalliwags. They always keep the blinds tightly drawn. What are they trying to conceal?
Also, there's sometimes the figure of a cat in the front window. Sometimes it's not there. But when it is, it's perfectly stationary. Is it a living cat? Or a sad little sculpture? I've been staring at it for ten minutes straight, and I'm pretty sure it hasn't moved at all.
I think its head just moved.
Maybe not. It's so hard to tell...What kind of inhuman hellcat could sit there, motionless like this, for so long?! Is it taunting me?
I swear to god, hellcat, if I have to come over there, you're going to be sorry. GIVE ME A SIGN!
It just occurred to me that hellcat might be staring at me, wondering whether I'm real. I haven't moved perceptibly, either, since this little showdown began. Heh heh. That's right. Take that, stupid cat. How does it feel?
Think I'll go to lunch.
Also, there's sometimes the figure of a cat in the front window. Sometimes it's not there. But when it is, it's perfectly stationary. Is it a living cat? Or a sad little sculpture? I've been staring at it for ten minutes straight, and I'm pretty sure it hasn't moved at all.
I think its head just moved.
Maybe not. It's so hard to tell...What kind of inhuman hellcat could sit there, motionless like this, for so long?! Is it taunting me?
I swear to god, hellcat, if I have to come over there, you're going to be sorry. GIVE ME A SIGN!
It just occurred to me that hellcat might be staring at me, wondering whether I'm real. I haven't moved perceptibly, either, since this little showdown began. Heh heh. That's right. Take that, stupid cat. How does it feel?
Think I'll go to lunch.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Dear Tepanyaki Restaurant,
Dear Tepanyaki Restaurant,
I am deeply sorry about what happened last night. I realize that it is not considered acceptable behavior for diners to stick chopsticks in their upper lips to look like walrus tusks, or to put chopsticks up their noses. I want to apologize, and promise to try to comport myself more appropriately if I'm ever allowed to dine in your establishment again.
Also, I am very sorry about what happened to that lovely 3 dimensional representation of a geisha you had framed and hung in the ladies' room. That's a nice piece of art, and it looks nice in Nick and Erika's house. If it makes you feel better, they've already hung it in a prominent place, and they like it very much.
Also, maybe it will make you feel better to know that really no one escaped that night unscathed. Erika had a particularly hilarious accident with a drum set. She was very scantily clad, and fell into the drums, whereupon her thong became entangled inextricably with the drum set. It took three people at least ten minutes to effect her release, and her swimsuit area became exposed during the effort. It was very shameful, and was probably a karmic punishment for what we did at your fine establishment that night.
Also, Nick slept on the living room floor, David slept on the bathroom floor, I called everyone racist animals, and Bridget slept in the cold, then expelled the contents of her stomach.
We have all paid dearly for the havoc we wrought at your restaurant, and frankly, we blame Hyuen, who gave us sake bombs after it was clearly no longer safe or sane to do so. Our lawyers will be contacting you.
I am deeply sorry about what happened last night. I realize that it is not considered acceptable behavior for diners to stick chopsticks in their upper lips to look like walrus tusks, or to put chopsticks up their noses. I want to apologize, and promise to try to comport myself more appropriately if I'm ever allowed to dine in your establishment again.
Also, I am very sorry about what happened to that lovely 3 dimensional representation of a geisha you had framed and hung in the ladies' room. That's a nice piece of art, and it looks nice in Nick and Erika's house. If it makes you feel better, they've already hung it in a prominent place, and they like it very much.
Also, maybe it will make you feel better to know that really no one escaped that night unscathed. Erika had a particularly hilarious accident with a drum set. She was very scantily clad, and fell into the drums, whereupon her thong became entangled inextricably with the drum set. It took three people at least ten minutes to effect her release, and her swimsuit area became exposed during the effort. It was very shameful, and was probably a karmic punishment for what we did at your fine establishment that night.
Also, Nick slept on the living room floor, David slept on the bathroom floor, I called everyone racist animals, and Bridget slept in the cold, then expelled the contents of her stomach.
We have all paid dearly for the havoc we wrought at your restaurant, and frankly, we blame Hyuen, who gave us sake bombs after it was clearly no longer safe or sane to do so. Our lawyers will be contacting you.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Dear Diary,
This is my first blog post. Ericka peer pressured me into doing it, and as usual, I caved in to the demands of the cool kids.
Now I will relate to you an interesting anecdote from a couple of days ago:
I got home early from work and decided to ride my horse, Bailey. I hadn't ridden him for about six weeks, and I'd been feeding him lots of grain, since it's been cold lately. But I decided to just hop on and go for a spontaneous bareback ride.
He was snorty, and did little bucks most of the way. This didn't concern me, though, since this is just one of the games we play. But then he got serious. His head went down, smoke came out of his ears, and I SWEAR TO GOD, he squealed. I was laughing at the noise he'd just made, when I found myself suddenly clinging to his side. We locked eyes, he bucked again, and off I came.
It was a soft landing in the snow, and I jumped up in time to ask him please not to run away as he ran away.
On the walk home, I had a lot of time for introspection. Why had this happened to me? Where had I gone wrong? These answers didn't take very long to answer, though, and I spent the rest of the hike plotting my revenge...
Now I will relate to you an interesting anecdote from a couple of days ago:
I got home early from work and decided to ride my horse, Bailey. I hadn't ridden him for about six weeks, and I'd been feeding him lots of grain, since it's been cold lately. But I decided to just hop on and go for a spontaneous bareback ride.
He was snorty, and did little bucks most of the way. This didn't concern me, though, since this is just one of the games we play. But then he got serious. His head went down, smoke came out of his ears, and I SWEAR TO GOD, he squealed. I was laughing at the noise he'd just made, when I found myself suddenly clinging to his side. We locked eyes, he bucked again, and off I came.
It was a soft landing in the snow, and I jumped up in time to ask him please not to run away as he ran away.
On the walk home, I had a lot of time for introspection. Why had this happened to me? Where had I gone wrong? These answers didn't take very long to answer, though, and I spent the rest of the hike plotting my revenge...
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