Saturday, April 30, 2011

To Whom It May Concern

Dear Kitty Cat,

I love you, I really do, but I iz not a noms.  I enjoy playing with you greatly, but I is not a noms.  Please stop eating my hand.

Thank you,

Your owner,


You're freaking adorable and I love you!!

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Dear Young Person Driving the Gold SUV/Truck,

Hello, sir or madam,

I find myself with a minor sleep deprivation issue this morning, the morning of my interview for a very important job.  This is because of you.

You see, when you stopped at that stoplight by the Citgo at the intersection of Main and Moose, you started honking uncontrollably, even though you were first at the light and there was no one around.  I, an unwitting bystander, turned to see what all the fuss was about, because honking in this area over stupid issues is not uncommon, nor is it common enough to let pass by unnoticed.

This was, of course, my first mistake, this turning around I did.  Because as soon as I spotted you in your white tee shirt in your tan-colored SUV or truck (which was it?  because I am curious) you stopped honking and started waving.

Now would be a good time to mention that there were several other people at this particular Citgo.  Now, when you started waving, I waved back because it appeared that you were waving at me.  However, after you peeled off into the night towards the wooded nowhere past the highway, I found myself turning to check what the other people at the station were doing.

They appeared to not have noticed your frantic honking and waving.  So I wonder, sir or madam, whether you had no idea whom it was you were honking/waving at, or if they didn't notice you and I did, or if I was the person you were waving at (in which case I must say, I have no idea who you were, nor what you were doing at this light).

I got back into my car, thinking it was merely a matter of circumstance that I thought you were waving at me, and perhaps there was someone else you were waving at who was faster at looking like they had no clue as to what just happened.  Except I had my sister in the car as well.  She asked who it was that was waving at us, and I replied that I had no idea.  So obviously I was not the only person who thought that you were waving at me.  And again I wonder, who on earth are you?

It kept me up for a while.

I have one last parting question for you, and I hope you don't take offence to it, but:
Who the hell are you?!


Friday, April 22, 2011

Dogs And Their Adventures

My mother and my sister have dogs.  We all currently live together, so I suppose they are in part my dogs as well.  My mother's dog is secretly clever but hides behind a dumb and dopey facade to fool us while she secretly plots world domination.  I'm on to her, but she hasn't figured it out yet.

We call her Puppy.  She is no longer a puppy, but for some reason, it is what we call her.  We call her a number of other things, mostly based on the fact that she breathes very heavily all the time.  Darth, Pig, Hey-You, Jealous, etc.  She answers to most of them.

Puppy likes to go on adventures from time to time.  These adventures most inconveniently take place outside of our fenced-in yard.  Usually I'm the one to go an get her.  She never plans her adventures when I have proper shoes on, or when I've got the leash with me.  No, she makes sure to do it when I'm barefoot and holding the cat.  This way I cannot leap over the fence as soon as she crawls underneath it and bring her straight home.  Instead, I must dash through the house, grabbing the leash and shoes (in that particular order) and sprint around the corner of the street, onto the wrong side of a busy road just so I can keep her from pooing in other peoples' yards.  Occasionally, if she's feeling particularly adventurous, she'll hop across the busy road and go into those people's yards.  This is very inconvenient for me because it means crossing the busy road to go and get to her.

I literally mean "hop."  She is a purebred lab we managed to get cheap because her owners didn't know her father's pedigree until after all the puppies were sold.  Of course, being purebred means she has a few health problems, like the fact that her hips don't really work.  She's been hopping with her back legs since she was like 6.

She was not the dog who had any adventures today.

No the dog who had an adventure today was my sister's dog.  This dog is pretty and sometimes pretty clever, but also -- much like her owner -- a bit dumb most of the time.  Her new favorite pastime is chasing squirrels that are already in the tree.  She watches the tree tops, finds a squirrelly friend, and chases it along the back fence until she can go no farther.  When it's out of her self-designated "play area", she proceeds to bark at the squirrel incessantly, for no reason other than the fact that she has no idea that there are other squirrels in the trees.

She is not terribly bright sometimes.

Her adventures usually take place conveniently in the yard, thank God.  Today was particularly rainy, which is rather key.  See, my mother let her out into the yard to play for a bit, forgetting that rain and clouds equal wet and cold.  Then we had dinner.  Then she and my sister left the house.

I get a call from my sister not a minute after they had left the house, telling me that Mother had left the ditzy dog out in the rain.

The poor dog was freezing and wet and also muddy, so I let her in, but penned her into the room so I could run and get a towel.  She proceeded to freak out because I had to touch her feet to dry them off and continued to spazz and shiver while I attempted to dry her off and reduce as much of the wet dog smell as I could.

Our poor Buzz Lightyear towel will never be the same.

I'm lucky I get to take the cat.  She's much less of a pain in the behind about her adventures.

I Found My Dream Car

On my way home from classes today, I happened to look to my left and see my dream car sitting on the side of the road.

I had no idea it was my dream car until I saw it, but as soon as I'd looked over, it was instant love.

I could clearly see myself cruising down a hill at the speed of gravity pulling my bodyweight down to flat ground, a set of green turtle shells spinning around me madly as I waited until someone passed me to shoot one off at them by pressing the Z button.

Yes, my white go-cart or soapbox car (I couldn't tell if it was one or the other or a strange conglomeration of both), was sitting at the end of someone's driveway with a For Sale sign attached to the front.  You have no idea exactly how tempted I was to pull over and check it out.

It would have solved so many problems.  Unfortunately I don't think go-carts are street legal, nor do I think a soapbox car would get me to and/or from school.

Also, I think Nintendo totally made up the whole turtle shell shooting mechanism.

As it is, I continued to drive my mom's beat up minivan home at just over ten miles over the suggested speed limit and imagine myself shooting turtle shells at the people I passed while listening to eighties music from the ancient iPod we've yet to get rid of.