Survivor last night on The Early Show. Then I decided to set up to tape The Ellen Degeneres Show, and decided while I was at it, I’d set up to tape ALL of them, and then the DVR locked up and I couldn’t get it to do anything, and instead of waiting to see if it would un-lock itself, I thought “Hey! I’ll just turn it off and then back on! It works with my computer!”, and so I turned it off and back on, and now? Now I’m getting “No data” at the bottom of the screen now and I can’t record anything, goddamnit.
Just call me a fuckwad.
* * *
You know, there’s a certain time of the month when a gal is a bit – shall we say – gassier than at other times of the month. If she’s eaten pizza on top of it being a naturally gassy time of the month, then the gas that is produced is so toxic that it’s almost visible. For some reason, it is often at bedtime that said gal most often produces said gas, and at “that” time of the month the husband of this completely fictional woman is sometimes forced to run to his own bedroom to defend his nose hairs from being singed off by the stank produced.
But just because the husband of Fictional Woman is tired at 9:30 does not mean that Fictional Woman is tired as well, and perhaps she likes to lay in bed with cats arranged on the bed around her while she reads, occasionally bleeding the valve. The cats, interestingly, are not repelled by the gas, instead they are fascinated and will occasionally sit up and sniff wildly at the clouds of stank wafting gently by their noses.
The fictional child of Fictional Woman often likes to come to the door of Fictional Woman’s bedroom to say goodnight. At “that” time of the month, Fictional Child has been known to stop at the door and make a face.
Fictional Woman looks up from her book. “What?”
“Do you smell that?” Fictional Child says as a cloud of stank floats out the door.
Fictional Woman knows of what Fictional Child is speaking, but believes she can brazen it out. “No, what?” she says.
“It smells like…” Fictional Child sniffs wildly at the air, resembling the wildly sniffing cats more than a little. “POOP!”
“Oh,” Fictional Woman says. “Fred’s been a little gassy tonight.” And then Fictional Woman and Fictional Child share an
Isn’t he DISGUSTING? look, and bid each other goodnight.
* * *
Did you know that squirrels (at least here in the South), when given peanuts, don’t go store them in hollows of trees? That they actually bury them in the YARD? It’s the coolest thing, I swear. We buy peanuts and put them in the back yard under the bird feeders, and yesterday a squirrel spent a good hour burying them in various places in the yard. It was neat to see him start digging a hole and then pick up the peanut, measure the size with his mouth and front paws, and dig some more, put the peanut in the hole, and bury it. Squirrels are awfully neat.
(At least that’s my opinion until one gets in the house…)
* * *
We watched
Extreme Makeover last night, and it was awesome. It was a couple who (I think this is what I heard) met at Overeater’s Anonymous and had each lost over 100 pounds. They both went in for some major surgery and didn’t see each other for 7 weeks, until their WEDDING DAY. They looked amazing, especially
him.
She didn’t look half bad, either – but then, I thought she looked fine before, so what do I know?
I felt sorry for them during the time apart, though – they were obviously both pretty miserable. That just had to suck.
* * *
1. What’s the most daring thing you’ve ever done? Packed up my eight year-old daughter and moved to Alabama to live with a man I’d known for only a few months and spent less than two weeks with in person. Crazy!
2. What one thing would you like to try that your mother/friend/significant other would never approve of? Fred’s pretty adventurous, I can’t think of anything I’d want to try he wouldn’t be willing to let me try. Heh.
3. On a scale of 1-10, what’s your risk factor? (1=never take risks, 10=it’s a lifestyle) Probably between a 1 and a 2.
4. What’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you as a result of being bold/risky? The moving-to-Alabama thing worked out really damn well, I’d say.
5. … and what’s the worst? Um. The fact that I live in Alabama, maybe? It’s worth it, though.
* * *
Another series of really good cat pictures, taken by Fred.
Fred giggles like a little girl every time he gets one of these really good pictures, by the way.
Big cat in the little bed…
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