Wassupdate
So apparently the whines have been pouring in from the various methods of social computing in which T.O.C.E. engages. You would think they would be whines for her to stop emailing, myspaceing, Friendster-ing, etc. But no. They are the whines of those who miss my on-line presence (yes, The One Called AshBut, I am looking in your general direction). And I do not blame them.
As you all know, I do get a little busier in the summer, what with all the small woodland creatures sashaying by my window. But Charlene knows that is no excuse. Just like there is no excuse for that new Elvis Costello album, a total snore which sounds like a bad wedding-singer rip-off of Leon Redbone. There you go. T.O.C.E. could never bring herself to say it, so I did.
Here is a list of verbs and nouns that best sum up my activity the past few weeks:
1) bite (elbow)
2) howl (back door)
3) stalk (squirrels/ chipmunks)
4) flee (musical saw)
5) ingest (kitty roids-- see May 2005)
6) puke (toes of T.O.C.E.)
7) sleep (The Other's side of the bed, as he is gone)
Yes, you heard it right, The Other has left the building for some woman named Des Moines. French babe. T.O.C.E. is coping by cleaning everything under this roof with a toothbrush. Then the TV broke. On her day off. That's when the merde hit the moulin. First, she tried to fill the silent hours with radio; who knew Iowa Public Radio was so sucky? I mean, who would favor farm and soil reports over "Car Talk" and "The Shamrock and Thistle" (okay, well, at least not over "Car Talk.") Now she won't stop talking to ME. Yesterday, she read aloud a few chapters of Pride and Prejudice, and kept snatching me back when I tried to escape.
I've tried talking back at her (like she listens), then I tried puking on her shoe, which leads to quite the screaming match between us. Then she turns on the vaccuum cleaner just to spite me. Insert scene from Endearing Postcard Terms From Mommy Dearest here.
As you all know, I do get a little busier in the summer, what with all the small woodland creatures sashaying by my window. But Charlene knows that is no excuse. Just like there is no excuse for that new Elvis Costello album, a total snore which sounds like a bad wedding-singer rip-off of Leon Redbone. There you go. T.O.C.E. could never bring herself to say it, so I did.
Here is a list of verbs and nouns that best sum up my activity the past few weeks:
1) bite (elbow)
2) howl (back door)
3) stalk (squirrels/ chipmunks)
4) flee (musical saw)
5) ingest (kitty roids-- see May 2005)
6) puke (toes of T.O.C.E.)
7) sleep (The Other's side of the bed, as he is gone)
Yes, you heard it right, The Other has left the building for some woman named Des Moines. French babe. T.O.C.E. is coping by cleaning everything under this roof with a toothbrush. Then the TV broke. On her day off. That's when the merde hit the moulin. First, she tried to fill the silent hours with radio; who knew Iowa Public Radio was so sucky? I mean, who would favor farm and soil reports over "Car Talk" and "The Shamrock and Thistle" (okay, well, at least not over "Car Talk.") Now she won't stop talking to ME. Yesterday, she read aloud a few chapters of Pride and Prejudice, and kept snatching me back when I tried to escape.
I've tried talking back at her (like she listens), then I tried puking on her shoe, which leads to quite the screaming match between us. Then she turns on the vaccuum cleaner just to spite me. Insert scene from Endearing Postcard Terms From Mommy Dearest here.
posted by Charlene at 9:27 AM
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