Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Picture this ...

Find a (legal) recording of AC/DC's "Thunderstruck" (or any AC/DC, for that matter) -- iTunes has it, the 30-second demo is fine.

Then ...

Imagine Elmo singing the song instead.

Not much changes, but suddenly AC/DC gets a whole lot better -- and funnier.

Thought I'd share. My brain works funny in the morning.

Friday, September 22, 2006

If you can't see the picture, somebody help!

This, my friends, is a lovely photo of my wonderful little boy, Scratchy. This was taken a few years before he died. There never was a more deliberate, serious, earnest cat -- who also had a tendency to do the strangest things (see previous blogs).

I had forgotten to mention that he developed a taste for yogurt when he was about 10. All of a sudden, he'd come up to a person and tell them that he Needed Something Really, Really Bad [sic]. He'd then lead them to the fridge, where he'd inform them that he Needed Yogurt, and that's where they came in.

But he wouldn't eat it out of a bowl or off the foil cap -- he had to share it. From the spoon. We worked out an agreement (a spoonful for him, a spoonful for me, etc.) wherein I'd share the spoon with him, but only if he cleaned the spoon completely. Thus I got out of the habit of eating yogurts with fruit chunks, because that was the one stipulation Scratchy had: he said he'd clean the spoon, but only if there weren't fruit chunks. Cats Don't Eat Fruit. He made a passing bid for yogurt with meat chunks, but that discussion closed very quickly.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Today's episode of cuteness is brought to you by the letter "Grrrr"

Two little girls (Girl One is on a playdate with Girl Two, who is shopping with Mom) were waiting in the checkout line today. They were having the most fun two four-year-old best friends spending a Birthday (Girl Two's) together could have.

At one point, they crouched down behind their carts and looked through the bars at me. "I'm a monster! Boooooooooo! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" "Me, too! Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!"

[Cascade of giggles]

Alarmed, I looked around. "Hey, Kevin! [First Mate] Is this the Monster Lane?"
"Ah, no it's not!" Kevin called across the store -- where he can't even see the action.
"What do I do?"
"You're just going to have to deal with it!" At this point, the girls are taking turns growling and giggling. I turned to them and sighed.
"Well, it's a good thing I've got my Anti-Monster Gloves with me today." I proceeded to grab my freezer gloves from under the register (conveniently green-colored) and painstakingly put them on. I showed my now gloved hands to the growling Pig-Tailed Girl Monsters of Doom [my name].
"Whew! Alright -- let's do this!"

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Hey, I want one!

If only this T-shirt existed ...

Quoteable, D&D update

"What are you, uncivilized? We cook rats on a grill!"

There is still some discussion as to whether I, as a cleric of Jan Querion, would have actually grilled anything (let alone a Dire Rat) on the altar of said deity for personal consumption. I say -- I'm a level one cleric with hardly any knowledge of religious things, didn't know it was a Dire Rat, and my dad made me sleep in the dang hayloft all my life! I see food, I cook food, I eat food! Ha!

Also, I am no longer a Dungeon Master. The intrepid party of level one adventurers ran headlong into a room of level 3 critters and all died. Turns out there were a couple of things I could have done as DM to prevent that from happening (mostly involving tweaking the rules), but this is what happens when the DM is inexperienced, I'm afraid. Ah, well. It's nice to take a turn as a character again and get some more experience from the sidelines.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

They only like us for our opposable thumbs

Last Tuesday morning saw me at the DuPage County Animal Shelter to clean out the cat room. I've taken to listening to my IPod while working, in an effort to conserve my last few shreds of sanity.* The last few weeks someone has been letting almost all the cats out of their cages Monday night; Tuesday morning therefore sees me chasing everyone around with a microchip reader in a desperate attempt to restore order. This particular morning I was trying to convince Toonces that I was not a Bad Person when I felt several prickles on my right leg. Whirl around to be almost face-to-ear with Flocko, an adolescent black longhair.

He was hanging in the vicinity of my waist by three paws -- YES, ON MY PANTS -- using the fourth to investigate the headphones' cord, swatting happily away and asking me What's This For?

I spent the afternoon at my mother-in-law's, attending to our Laundry Problem. Since I'm there alone in the evenings (MIL works evenings), I use Tuesday supper to explore those area culinary offerings which do not tempt the Husband. This particular week was White Castle Week.** I curled up in an armchair with my two miniscule Cheeseburger Like Objects, a small pile of fries and a book when Missy, Cat-in-law Number Two, decided to join me. -- Or, rather, join my fries.

She gave the plate a few tentative sniffs, then an exploratory lick on a fry. Hmm, she said. I've Had Better. She sat down, still ruminating. But Then, I've Had Worse. She then proceeded to lick over the entire pile of fries, hunkering down next to the plate and purring away. Finally she came upon The One she had been searching for, snatched up the fry and dashed away.

Mother-in-Law and Husband agree that this is simply the way Missy eats fries. If you try to give her one of her Very Own, she sits in a huff and ignores it, because it Wasn't The Right One.

* Excerpt from this week's Running Commentary while working:

Flocko [looking out the window into the rabbit cages in the lobby]: What's That Thing? Can I Eat It?


Rose: You Missed A Spot On The Floor! Right Over There! Here -- Let Me Out And I'll Show You!

[Matilda and I aren't speaking currently. I never let her back in her cage when she wants back in -- which is mid-cleaning -- and she spends the rest of the time looking Hurt and Accusing. This happens every week.]

Rally: You!! I Don't Like You! Yeah -- You Over There, Behind The Human!


Cali: I Think I Left My Favorite Jingle Ball Up On The Climbing Tree! Help!

Misty: Is That My Brother?? I Think I Hear My Brother!! Yell If It's You!!

It's maddening. Thus the IPod, using only one earbud so I don't miss all of the conversation and can point out to Mac that claiming to have timed an outing is ridiculous when one is not in posession of a timepiece.

** Never, ever again. Ever.