Can you see Spot reaching out, hoping to be Fancified? Fancypants was not trapped in the house of the people who moved – they’re actually still living there, it appears, or at least getting the house ready to be sold. He also was not trapped in the moving truck, but thanks for the suggestions, y’all. Fred said last night, “I keep thinking that Fancypants is trapped in the house somewhere.” Every time the washer or dryer is running, Fred thinks he hears a cat meowing, and ends up going to investigate. There’s no way he could be in the house, though – we’ve searched every corner, every cabinet, every closet, every inch of every room.

So, if you’re a pain in the ass, and you get into your big, expensive pain in the ass vehicle, and you drive your yuppie self to the nearest McDonald’s, and you plan on placing a great big special-item order (“A cheeseburger with no onions. Another cheeseburger, this one with no ketchup. A third cheeseburger, with no pickles. A large fry with no salt. A large fry with extra salt. A Diet Coke. A regular Coke. An iced tea, with only lemon. An iced tea, with no lemon and no sugar. Oh, and could you write on the wrapper to all of those cheeseburgers exactly what each is, so I won’t have to unwrap it with my lily-white fingers and figure out which cheeseburger goes to which kid?”), would you kindly get your big bitchy ass out of your big gas-guzzling SUV (yeah, I know, potkettleblack) and haul your ass INTO the store so that you can oversee the creation of your order? Because if someone in line behind you (hi!) at the drive-up is intent on only ordering a salad and a (super-size!) Diet Coke, and you spend ten minutes screaming your huge fucking order into the drive-up speaker, and then remark loudly to your travelling companion how stupid those idiots at McDonald’s are, and then you spend another 5 minutes screaming at the drive-up lady who takes your money, and THEN you sit at the second drive-up window for yet another 5 minutes, going painstakingly THROUGH your order, unwrapping each sandwich to double-check, tasting fries to be sure they’re done correctly, shaking your BIG FUCKING BITCH HEAD the entire time, what will that accomplish? I’ll tell you what that will accomplish. That will cause the salad-and-Diet-Coke lady behind you (hi!) to, after paying for her order at window #1, and after watching you SHAKE YOUR BIG FUCKING BITCH HEAD for 10 minutes as you smugly tell your travelling companion that McDonald’s isn’t as good as Burger King, to put her vehicle in park – while still in line – lock her doors, walk past your STUPID YUPPIE BITCH SELF, walk into the McDonald’s, lean into the drive-up booth and say brightly, with a smile, “Hi! I see that you have a real pain in the ass in the drive-up. I’m behind her in line. Could I have my order? A salad and Diet Coke? I think that’s it, right there.” And not only will the drive-up folks be THRILLED to hand her order to her, but they will ALSO ask her if she’d kindly take the order to the people in line behind her, and she will be just as thrilled to comply. And yet, after all your pain in the ass-ness, when she walks by your big fucking SUV and mutters “GoddamnmotherfuckingpaininthefuckingassBITCH”, you will be somehow be surprised. And you will be further surprised and appalled when the TWO vehicles behind you pull out, having received their orders, despite all you’ve done to prevent that.
Pet store kitties are here.
So, we went to see The Matrix Reloaded on Saturday. I made Fred buy me a Diet Coke, because the movie time was messing with my usual lunch time, and there was no way I was going to sit through a 2+ hour movie without something to drink. (If I’d been thinking before we left the house, I would have stuck a can of Diet Coke in my purse and thus saved us $145. But I wasn’t thinking, which is all too common in my life these days, and thus we had to spend $8 for 2 large Diet Cokes. Damn.) We were walking away from the snack bar, when Fred gestured at the far wall, where posters for future movies were hanging. “There’s a movie about…” he squinted and then blushed. “Oh, never mind.” After much persuasion, he confessed that he’d seen the movie ratings poster on the wall and thought there was going to be a movie about the ratings system. We decided that would be a pretty boring movie, indeed. Hee!
I just finished reading How to Be Invisible, by JJ Luna, and found it pretty interesting, although I did have a dream that I was being stalked, and had to put the principles of the book in motion. It was a good book although there were parts that made it clear it was originally published in 2000, specifically the parts dealing with flying without using your name. Post-9/11, I don’t see that happening. JJ Luna thinks like I do, at least in part. At one point in the book he says “If you don’t know the person ringing your doorbell, why bother to answer the door?” Amen to that!
“Meh. MEH. Meh!”]]>