Is there anything funnier than tiny cat pants?
It seems unlikely, but my goal in life is to find out.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
A Day of Trials and Minor Tribulations
Mrs. Wigglebottom went to the vet. She didn't care about having things stuck up her butt. She didn't mind having blood drawn, even though the vet had to poke around to find a vein. She gave a rat's ass about the shot. But let that motherfucker try to shine a light in her eyes and it's on. Luckily, she didn't bite the vet, but she gave it her best shot. And when we came out of the examination room, she barked in alarm at the puppy, "Holy shit, run if you can! That monster has a light he's going to shine right in your fucking eyes!!!!!" The puppy then also began to bark in alarm. Still, Mrs. Wigglebottom is in good health--58 pounds, no heart worms, 5 years, 8 months old. That last part tickled me because I don't remember ever knowing when her birthday was, but at some point, we must have thought we had a firm idea.
I'm still sick. I'm tired of talking about it.
The fucking libertarians are right. Having a gigantic manly afghan the size of a small continent is all kinds of useful, I discovered while sick. So, I'm making me one.
My dad is fixated on meeting Sarcastro and the Wayward Boy Scout. I've convinced him that he cannot possibly meet the Wayward Boy Scout while he's here, but he won't let the Sarcastro thing drop. It just goes to show that I probably would have been better off letting him talk to them at Thanksgiving. Now he's had a month to dwell on things and think of all the awesome stories he would have told them, if only his cruel, heartless daughter hadn't handed the phone to her mom. All through dinner tonight, it was "Ask Sarcastro to come to dinner with us tomorrow night. Or Thursday. He'll want to meet me. Tell him I'm British." "You're not British." "He won't know that." "Yes, yes, I think he might notice that you aren't actually British." "I'll use an accent." "Oh, of course. Well, in that case, he'll be utterly fooled."
We had to go to Walmart. This actually didn't suck as bad as one might think because there was a veteran in a wheel chair speeding down the aisles at some ungodly speed shouting, "Get out of my way! I don't have any brakes!!!!" while his mom (I presume) waddled after him begging him not to make a scene. I was praying for him to make a bigger scene, since this one was so amusing.
The Corporate Shill--Or The Shill, as we call her. My friend from college who was constantly getting me into trouble and going to parties she neglected to tell me about where cute boys would ask her "Where's Aunt B.?"
The Legal Eagle--The Shill's husband.
The Super Genius--She lived next door to me my freshman year of college and we've been friends ever since my first day on the floor.
Miss J.--My first adult friend, meaning the first lasting friendship I made after college. She was my roommate in grad school.
Her Lover--Her Husband.
The Divine Ms. B.--Miss J.'s sister and one of my heroes, because she's brave and funny and mystic and fearless.
JR--My oldest friend. I've known her since I was in the second grade.
Elias--JR's husband and the person who's musical tastes have most strongly affected my own. Oh, how I long to be cooler than him!
The Professor--My closest friend here in Nashville. She's a genius, but she'll never tell you that.
The Man from GM--I've known him since I was 16 and he still hasn't forgiven me for telling him I was a vegetarian when I wasn't.
The Redheaded Kid--No one knows where he comes from or where he goes when he leaves here. I assume he's the Butcher's friend. The Butcher assumes he's mine.