2003-07-10

* * * How much do I love you, my readers? My Tubby-loving readers, I guess I should say. I love my Tubby-loving readers a whole lot it would appear. Because not only did I take that awesome picture of Tubby and slap it on a t-shirt in Cafe Press, but I also ordered one to be sure that it printed out okay. And it did. Fred would like you to know he doesn’t usually look quite so crazed. And that I made him make a muscle to impress y’all. And then, in my Cafe Press store, I slapped the picture on everything from t-shirts to lunch boxes, and added $1 to the base price. Now, before you get all up in arms deciding that I’m a horrible money-grubbing bitch, let me tell you that any profits made from the sale of any Tubby-licious items will go directly to the no-kill cat shelter, the one we volunteer for. (I mean, I AM a horrible money-grubbing bitch. I just won’t be grubbing after this money.) I didn’t make any gray shirts available, because the gray will show through the white parts of the Tubby picture, but if you’re desperate to wear Tubby on your chest and refuse to wear white, let me know and I’ll make it so. Get your Tubby loot here. There’s also a permanent link to the ride under “other”, and when I get around to it I’ll add the link to the front page. Now, who loves ya, baby?

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Just so y’all know, the Libya/ Liberia conversation did not go ANYTHING like that. SOMEONE certainly likes to spin the words around so that I come across as a total clueless airhead idiot sometimes. Hmph.
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I’m relieved to announce that my period has started (y’all KNOW you were sitting around saying to yourself “Now, when was Robyn’s period supposed to start? I forgot to mark the calendar…”) and the PMS is over for this month. I hate how easily I get teary-eyed when I’m PMS-ing. Tuesday night I was reading a book, and the main character and the man she loved fought and she left, and I was boo-hooing like you wouldn’t believe. Even though I knew they’d end up back together and happy at the end, I was still all heartbroken. And then I was crying because I was happy they were together and happy and living happily ever after. Thank god Fred goes to bed hours before I do, or he’d have been around snickering at me, because that’s just the kind of heartless bastard he is.
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How to kick a sock’s ass. If it had an ass. By Miz Poo And3rson. First, you sees the sock in the distance, laying all innocent-like on the floor, like it’s not filled with the Evil Kitty Pot. Then, you runs over and sniffs on the sock. Like, sniffsniffsniff. Soon, your head fills with the craziness, and you knows that you gots to kick the sock’s ass, or it will lay there and fill the heads of the other kitties with the craziness, and then you’ll have to kick their asses, when you’d rather be laying around shedding all your hairs all over the place so that balls of the hairs form and become soldiers in your Army of Poo. Then you kicks and bites and kicks and bites and kicks and bites, faster and faster, your toes and teeth blurring ’cause you kicks and bites so fast, until the sock screams for mercy. When the sock is crying and begging for it’s life, you drops it like it’s a big ol’ nothing, and then you lay across it in case it tries to get you with the craziness again, and you lick your paw like licklicklick, so that the sock knows that you are the biggest badass in the whole big house. And the back yard, too. The End. PS: Send more catnip. But not for Tubby. Just for Poo.]]>