I am spelling this in this fashion to avoid the legal team at the Chezburger Network. BTW, I could have been your HR Director. I would have taken you to new heights in hilarity like playing Double Dutch Bus at the start of every staff meeting (although that gets old after the first 15 times) and ordering donuts from Dunkin instead of Top Pot just to be egalitarian about it.
This morning I woke up with a mouth full of fur. Or a mouth covered in fur. I have had lipstick on my mouth consistently for the last 31 years – no kidding. My friend, Paige, once told me that I looked like Holly Hobby and then she pulled my bangs back and made fun of my unnatrually large eyes and smallish mouth and then barfed on my shirt because she was laughing so hard. Mostly because we had stolen a bunch of clove cigarettes from this store downtown and smoked them while drinking Robitussin.
This brings back such fond memories that when I wake up in the morning, I steal a pack of cloves and then peel the cat fur from my lips. I hear it has moisturizing properties. Which is why I do that.
Actually, it is because my cats need to sleep literally on my head. There is an entire house here with 3 bedrooms, a living room, reading room and office, but they have to sleep ONLY on my pillow. This is not only annoying, it is gross.
I have an uncanny sense of smell. I can tell who is smoking Virginia Slims in Wallingford or eating Doritos on Capital Hill. From my house. Oh, and I can see Russia! From my house! Why are you Russians eating Doritos and smoking Virginia Slims? Just eat caribou jerky and do snuff, it is what you are legally obligated to do. And don’t try to put the Doritos in a Ziplock and pretend we don’t know. I do that all the time with my Pringles and pretend it is celery, but no one is buying it. The people at Costco are so on to me.
What it means in practical terms is that I can smell cat litter on my pillow at 3 a.m. from the dang furry things that sleep on my head and I DO NOT WANT this. It also means I have to throw 15 small furry animals off my bed to get a decent sleep. Or I could try Nyquil, but that seems like I am developing yet another addiction. Bagels, Benadryl and baked brie are one thing, OTC meds and owl tattoos are quite another.
So nothing has happened in the last week other than the Boi (heart!!!!) has begun calling me back after I annoyed him to death with my constant annoyingness (yeah, that doesn’t really change much - sorry!) because I bribed his mother and said I was a lovely person and sent her a Hallmark store. And I think I am going to go back to work with my peeps at the academic biomedical research institute spin off that I call home as long as they buy off on my proposal to stare at them strangely and audit files. Which is why this post (unlike all the others - snort! - makes no sense).
Today I read 13 books and ran from Seattle to Portland and back. On my bike. While doing laundry, It is definitely time to get back into the swing of things and do some math for a comp survey or something. The only math I currently do is just to calculate how I can pay my mortgage and not eat the giant Costco-sized brie that looks like it is encased in Styrofoam and keep buying my industrial sized ziplocks in which to store my Pringles.
Eww. I think I am going to stop eating altogether to save money and not have to eat ishey food. "Ishey" is a term derived from the Yiddish Language which means “gross” in Hawaiian.
Kthxbye
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