No, Not Really

This morning, I got a big headache when I saw Snoop D-o-double-g touting the benes of the chrysler employee discount plan with his main man Lee Iacoshizzle. That was followed by the delightfully jiggly dancing fool who plays the Rubber Band Man on Staples commercials. Eck.

And then, there's this. Cut it out.

Kitty Countdown

Arrives on Saturday .. which might be her name, actually. Or, Charlie Murphy.

Some Other Thoughts

Thought #1: My dog, Louis, is passive aggressive.. How did he learn that? And, while it might be interesting to know the answer to that question, here's another: how do I stop it? All that pacing around in the bedroom (while I'm in the living room) and plopping down on the floor and sighing? He's like every boyfriend you don't want to have.

Me: "What's wrong, Lou?"

Him: "Oh, nothing."

Subtext: "I just hate you and wish I didn't live here. Oh, and do you have any bacon?"

Thought #2: I would like to meet and marry the person who invented the Wallet Owl. Man or woman, I don't care. I'll marry either sex and happily tidy up after any mess he/she makes in the west, east, north or south wings of the mansion. I'm assuming it's a mansion, because based on the number of Wallet Owl commercials airing on EVERY F'ING CHANNEL, the product must be selling.

Thought #3: Don't take this personally, but Pat Robertson? You are bathouse, shithouse, balls-out crazy. Why don't you fly down to Caracas and aim your slingshot at Hugo? Be sure to start a blog to tell us all about your experiences, you cute little nut-job, you. Godspeed.

Thought #4: Again about Lou. I wish he weren't getting old is all. Sometimes when we're walking, I can see that his hips aren't what they used to be, but then neither are mine ... actually, mine are MORE than what they used to be, but that's not good either. Thank heavens for Synovi G3. Too bad the evil crooks at University Animal Crookhospital stole my supply to feed to some skinny Upper East Side bitch's french bulldog. NEVER GO THERE. They are horrible, horrible, horrible. And, evil.

Pity Party

Oomph. Gak. Berf. I spent today on 4 conference calls, count 'em, FOUR, which took up 8 KAJILLION HOURS of potential work time. Wednesdays make me so sad. My boss, whom I love (and I KNOW she ain't reading this, so it's the truth) said to me, "How are you? You seem cranky today." Cranky? CRANKY? Baby, you don't even know.

I should say that, as jobs go (and, to quote my sister, "I have decided that I'd rather starve than work" which is, I know, dramatic and over the top, but sometimes, don't you feel that way?) my job is good. I get paid a decent wage and do work that is sometimes really interesting, and always kind of interesting, but jeesus the meetings. I'd like to take this opportunity to quote my sister again: "Hey! No, I don't what to confer with any motherfuckingbody. I don't like your ideas and I don't like you." I'm just saying. Sometimes. That's how I feel. Sometimes.

Urban Jungle

It really is, and populated by all sorts of wild creatures. One of those creatures lives, as you know, in my apartment. I'm taking the day off on Friday to get geared up for what I'd like to call The Great Mouse Hunt, 2005. It is going to be an exciting thrill-ride of a hunt. I've already taken my malaria pills, hired a driver for the Land Rover, and am interviewing guides later this afternoon. I have to go to Orvis to return my pith helmet -- it is a bit small -- and to procure a tasteful safari jacket. I also need to find a good source for ammo in the city. I can see that mouse tied to the hood of the Rover already.

A Change'll Do You Good

All that pink was getting on my nerves. This is a little calmer. Maybe it will help me keep my rants down to one or two per week. Today's slice of life from my neighborhood for your reflection:

Scene: Me walking Lou down the street, trying to keep him from eating garbage.

Players: A boy of about 8, and a man who may have been drunk, or it could just have been a really heavy accent.

Action: The boy looks at Lou and makes as if he's going to come over and pet him. The man waves his arms excitedly and says, "Hey, no! You don't want to be moving fast like that around a dog. Remember, he has four legs, and you only have two."

Cut to me: "What the ...?"