Crooked Acres, 7:13 am:
::coughcoughcough:: ::throatclearing::
“I AM THE MAN!”
“THE MAN!”
“THE! MAN!”
“THE MAN! IN CASE YOU WERE WONDERING! THANK YOU AND HAVE A GOOD DAY!”
(Above scene repeats 130 times during the next eight hours.)
Crooked Acres, 4:48 pm:
“AHEM.”
“I am…”
“.. the man.”
“Hmmm….”
::thinking::
::considering::
::blinking whilst pondering::
“Yes, that’s correct. I AM the man.”
“The man.”
“The man!”
“THE. MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!”
“THE MOTHERFUCKING MAN! YES, ME!”
“And to drive my point home, let me raise my neck feathers in an umbrella-like fashion as I reiterate to you: I AM THE MAN!!!”
“Got it?”
(Scene repeats itself every three minutes until it gets dark out, whereupon McLovin’ is of the opinion that the world is aware of his studly manliness, and retires with his bitchez to the chicken coop to rest up.)
River and Inara are such the little hellions these days. They love to take turns climbing into my lap, and then they kick and bite and scratch at me, and then if I make them stop biting, they give me the big blue eyes and are all “Ah am jest a little bitty baby kitten and ah could not hurt a fly, le WAH!” and meow sadly at me.
BRATS.
(pic) “Momma! Pay attention to ME!”
(pic) Fight!
(pic) “Do you SEE what I have to put up with?!”
Tons of kitten pictures up over at Flickr.
(pic) “Attention passengers, would all orange kittehs please report to the Lido Deck for fun and games!”
Previously
2007: Random pictures.
2006: Mystery solved, I guess.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: So far, I believe she’s ahead in the fart wars.
2002: That damn PTA. I will NOT be suckered in again by them, damnit!
2001: Realtors.
2000: New eyes, new hair – I’ll practically be a whole new woman!