Squeal for me, baby... no? Ok, then.
So, I indulged today. I went and bought two pairs of jeans. Because I needed them. I went and bought two pairs of bras. Because I needed them. I went and bought a pair of underwear. Because it was pretty and lacey and on sale. I went and bought two books, but they were not for me, so it was OK.
The books I bought were a present for my oldest friend in the world (meaning, I've known her for almost as long as I have my family, not that she's the oldest friend in the world, that would be quite far-reaching) and they are:
Kilbrack by somebody whose name I can't remember right now...oh, that's right, it's Jamie O'Neill.
Lies and Lying Liars that Tell Them: A Fair and Balanced Look At The Right" by Al "The Daily Affirmations" Franken
Both are quite brilliant. I especially like the chapter titles in Al Franken's books, such as "Ann Coulter: Nutcase" and "You Know Who I Really Don't Like? Ann Coulter." There is also the brilliant "God Bless Jerry Falwell" and "I Challenge Rich Lowry to a Fight." Too bad I have to give it away on Saturday...if I stay up all night, I might be able to finish it. Hmmmm...
Good news of tonight: I get to see my niece! Oh, and my sister and brother-in-law, too, I suppose. But they're not cute, fun, and cuddly, so screw that. I get to see my niece! Yesterday they put up more pictures of her (and if those of you on the niece filter want them, I'll post some of them, too) and in one of them she looked so much like on of those Cupids in paintings, I took her out of the picture and stuck her in Botticelli's "The Birth of Venus." She's even got wings, a bow and an arrow. I have to say, I'm quite proud of my efforts.
Now, I ask you: is this the time of the plague? Should we be afraid that a little furry mouse that hides from people as if FROM the PLAGUE can infect a healthy, 6-month-old baby? Here's the thing. We have a mouse.
I've seen it - it's quite cute, furry, dark, very small. It scuttles around every once in a while only when I'm around (am I the least threatening person in this household, or something?) and basically, only "comes out" at night, when there's nobody around. It runs across the walls - never crosses the room, unless it's to get from one room to another.
My sister found out we've got a mouse and said: "GAH! WE ARE NOT COMING! CALL THE EXTERMINATOR!! NOW!!"
I call. They tell me they'll be there the next day to try and do something. Next day, presumably while I'm in the shower and there's nobody else in the house, somebody comes and leaves us shit on the floor, along with a slip that says the job's been done. Too bad we are the ones that actually have to do it.
They left us GLUE WALL COVERING, which means that in order to get rid of the mouse, we have to tape the things to the walls and wait till it gets caught and begins squealing. Excuse the fuck out of me, but NO. A big, FAT NO. I've hidden the damn things, and damn me if we're going to do it. That's just fucking inhumane. I know that I wouldn't have to be the one doing the job, but I don't want my father doing it, either, and I sure as hell don't want to see the mouse get killed so brutally. What I - and, admittedly, my parents, also - want to do is just not say anything and hope my sister doesn't see the damn thing (as in, the mouse). I mean, it's a mouse. It's not a sewer rat. My guess, the mouse has lived in the building all her life. She's not going to be carrying around anything too dreadful, and she sure as hell will not go near a baby which, just by its size, could squash her to death. So, what the fuck?
Just thought I'd vent. DAMN THOSE GLUE THINGIES! They're EVIL!
I think I'm done now. Tralalalala, I have pretty underwear, yay...
The books I bought were a present for my oldest friend in the world (meaning, I've known her for almost as long as I have my family, not that she's the oldest friend in the world, that would be quite far-reaching) and they are:
Kilbrack by somebody whose name I can't remember right now...oh, that's right, it's Jamie O'Neill.
Lies and Lying Liars that Tell Them: A Fair and Balanced Look At The Right" by Al "The Daily Affirmations" Franken
Both are quite brilliant. I especially like the chapter titles in Al Franken's books, such as "Ann Coulter: Nutcase" and "You Know Who I Really Don't Like? Ann Coulter." There is also the brilliant "God Bless Jerry Falwell" and "I Challenge Rich Lowry to a Fight." Too bad I have to give it away on Saturday...if I stay up all night, I might be able to finish it. Hmmmm...
Good news of tonight: I get to see my niece! Oh, and my sister and brother-in-law, too, I suppose. But they're not cute, fun, and cuddly, so screw that. I get to see my niece! Yesterday they put up more pictures of her (and if those of you on the niece filter want them, I'll post some of them, too) and in one of them she looked so much like on of those Cupids in paintings, I took her out of the picture and stuck her in Botticelli's "The Birth of Venus." She's even got wings, a bow and an arrow. I have to say, I'm quite proud of my efforts.
Now, I ask you: is this the time of the plague? Should we be afraid that a little furry mouse that hides from people as if FROM the PLAGUE can infect a healthy, 6-month-old baby? Here's the thing. We have a mouse.
I've seen it - it's quite cute, furry, dark, very small. It scuttles around every once in a while only when I'm around (am I the least threatening person in this household, or something?) and basically, only "comes out" at night, when there's nobody around. It runs across the walls - never crosses the room, unless it's to get from one room to another.
My sister found out we've got a mouse and said: "GAH! WE ARE NOT COMING! CALL THE EXTERMINATOR!! NOW!!"
I call. They tell me they'll be there the next day to try and do something. Next day, presumably while I'm in the shower and there's nobody else in the house, somebody comes and leaves us shit on the floor, along with a slip that says the job's been done. Too bad we are the ones that actually have to do it.
They left us GLUE WALL COVERING, which means that in order to get rid of the mouse, we have to tape the things to the walls and wait till it gets caught and begins squealing. Excuse the fuck out of me, but NO. A big, FAT NO. I've hidden the damn things, and damn me if we're going to do it. That's just fucking inhumane. I know that I wouldn't have to be the one doing the job, but I don't want my father doing it, either, and I sure as hell don't want to see the mouse get killed so brutally. What I - and, admittedly, my parents, also - want to do is just not say anything and hope my sister doesn't see the damn thing (as in, the mouse). I mean, it's a mouse. It's not a sewer rat. My guess, the mouse has lived in the building all her life. She's not going to be carrying around anything too dreadful, and she sure as hell will not go near a baby which, just by its size, could squash her to death. So, what the fuck?
Just thought I'd vent. DAMN THOSE GLUE THINGIES! They're EVIL!
I think I'm done now. Tralalalala, I have pretty underwear, yay...
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