(That’s a yawn, not a bitch)

One day last week I stood in my closet looking for a shirt to wear, and I said to myself “Self, you sure do have an awful damn lot of light gray t-shirts. What’s up with that?” And then I answered myself with “Bite me. I can’t help it if Cafe Press doesn’t offer t-shirts in various colors! White or gray, that’s it! (Except of course for the baseball t-shirts, which are white with a choice of red arms or blue). Don’t bitch at me, bitch at Cafe Press!” Then, I stopped and thought about it, which hurt a little. I came up with a possible solution, and the next day I stopped at the drugstore and bought two small packages. The packages then sat on the desk by the door because I am nothing if not a procrastinator. Yesterday, I got a bug up my butt (figuratively speaking), and I did what I’d planned to do, and it was good. That’s right, I dyed the motherfuckers. I think they came out pretty well, too, although I think I would have preferred the blue one to be a bit lighter, and the yellow one to be less gold. But they’re not light gray – which is SO not my color – and thus I’m going to declare the experiment a success.
Apparently my love for the music of Lisa Marie Presley is limited to two songs: “Lights Out” (because really, how can you not laugh a little bit at the line “In the damn back lawn”?, and also, it’s got a good beat, and I can dance to it. If I could dance, that is. Does anyone get that “It’s got a good beat and I can dance to it” line, or are you all too young? And further, if you go to this page, you can listen to the song in Windows Media, and you won’t have to go do that illegal download thing that will blow up your computer, just because I like the song) and “Nobody Noticed It” (which I LOVE, because I love the sad songs. You can also listen to that one on the page linked above). The rest of her songs, however, kind of sound alike to me. I guess 2 out of 12 ain’t bad. Speaking of sad songs, have I mentioned that I love the sad songs? If I put together a compilation cd of my favorite songs, they’d probably make y’all want to kill yourselves. (And now someone will email me to tell me that suicide is no joking matter)
I talked to the spud this morning. She didn’t go to the zoo the other day because it rained all day, so they went shopping instead. Lisa, the ex’s fiancee, had the spud professionally measured , and then bought the her a bunch of new bras at Victoria’s Secret. I am oddly amused by that. Reminds me of the (Jeff Foxworthy?) story about how he came home and his wife was folding laundry. He picked up a skimpy pair of underwear, leered, and said “Hooo, when are you going to model these for me?” His wife smiled and said “Probably never, since they’re YOUR DAUGHTER’S UNDERWEAR!”, at which point he screamed and threw the underwear across the room.
This is Spanky. He is the cat who, on every trip through the bathroom to the bowl of food, stops and says “HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!” when he sees the bath mat sitting in front of the shower. In front of the shower, where it always sits. And then he spends half an hour poking at the rug with his paw, backing up, and then walking forward to poke-poke-poke again. If you make a loud noise, he will jump three feet in the air and haul ass for a safe place. Uh, I mean, I think he’ll do that. I don’t know for sure, because I would never deliberately scare him. Nope, not me.]]>