Thursday, May 26, 2005

I Take It Back

Remember how I was mad that Lou broke my foot? I'm over it. Why? Because, this didn't work:


Also, mice seem to love D-con, it's like Centrum 1000 -- it makes them stronger. For instance, this never happened:

dead kitchen

But, for the second time, Lou accidentally killed a mouse. Last time, he was laying down in front of his food bowl (he likes to eat in the prone position -- I guess it goes down easier), and the mouse ran out. Too late, the mouse saw Lou and before he could run back under the stove, Lou reached up his big, masculine, hairy dog paw and smacked the mouse dead! I loved him unconditionally for 2 weeks.

Tonight, dead mouse courtesy of Lou was even better. He ACCIDENTALLY STEPPED ON IT! A slow mouse (maybbe the poison dazed him?) was making his way across the floor, and I said, "Lou, Lou! Come here and get the mouse!" Since "mouse" doesn't rhyme with "treat", the poor boy was confused, so he walked towards me slowly, and in the process, squished the hell out of the mouse! I'm going to cook him a hamburger right now.

Broke Down Pal-ass!

Man, oh, man! My foot is broken.


Want to know the sad thing about that? I didn't break it playing squash, going on my morning 5 mile run, throwing my body in front of an oncoming car to save a child's life. Nope. I broke it 'cause I was skeeved out about sleeping in my bedroom since I saw the mouse there. I broke it 'cause my skeeviness forced me to sleep on the couch in the living room (why? mice can get there, too, stupid). I broke it because my dog, Lou, looked at me sleeping on the couch, and said to himself, "You ain't leaving me on the floor/in the bedroom to deal with the vermin. Move over, biotch", and prompty jumped on the couch, one foot on my neck, the other three on my foot and broke it. He is the devil.

Bonus is I have a beautiful new blue shoe courtesy of one Dr. Simon Young (the best .. okay, the only podiatrist I've ever been to -- but he was GOOD!) And, after three days of hobbling around the office and taking cabs to work, I know that I'm not crazy and that I have a super-high tolerance for pain. Bring it. I get a full-blown walking cast tomorrow. I hope they have it in pink. Later - j.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

The Real Story

I will love you if your arms are strong, like a man's!

Let me test your strength!

Ha, ha, ha! You lose. Strong black woman, indeed!

I will pee on your couch to mark my victorious territory!

Also, I need to laugh in your face!

Yes, yes! These arms are firm, and have the power to make me straight! Ha-ha-ha!

What the hell?

Why does Phil Spector's hair look like this?
Insanity plea?
Excessive wind?