My little chickenmonkey is a fetching fiend. He may not want me to pet him (he flinches and gives me big round eyes of terror when my hand gets anywhere near him), and he may not snuggle, but damn if he can’t get enough of bringing things for me to throw. He particularly likes pipe cleaners and receipts. The problem is I throw these items like they are bricks. I hurl them with all my might, and can basically feel my elbow joint and tendons shredding. Since I’m also an old lady, I get tired very quickly, and I end up asking him to fetch me a hotdog and a beer. He looks at me with pity since evidently I don’t understand the concept of fetch—that being I have to throw the hotdog and beer first before he’d bring them to me. Sigh.
I just finished the last episode of Make It or Break It on Netflix. Pleases, someone tell me, is there a third season, and how long must I wait? Oh, thank goodness, Wikipedia informs me that the show was renewed just a week ago. Damn, I have my fucking thumb on the pulse of hot teen action, don’t I?
What am I to watch now? How about Life Unexpected? With the less hot chick from Roswell (I know it must be hard to be her, and not be the hot one with the great rack who is in all those hipster movies and Grey’s Anatomy).
Last night CSP and I were watching Firefly. It was the episode where they broke in to the hospital (Ariel), and I had a sudden realization: I’m pretty sure Doctor Horrible is wearing the doctor costume from this episode. Those side buttons are just so lovely. Sadly, this captain Nathan Fillion never proudly proclaims that the “hammer” is his penis, which is too bad since that just leaves us watching Summer Glau ooze her bad acting all over the screen. A quick Google search confirms my shared-costume thought.
Somewhere between watching Firefly and getting all handsy, I asked CSP why there were no medical shows set in the future? He didn’t have an answer, but thought I was on to something. I don’t want some crazy, outlandish sci-fi show. I just want your run-of-the-mill medical shows that just happens to be set about 500 years in the future. I didn’t flesh out the whole concept other than inventing Nano-Crabs ™. I’m so excited about them. They are little robotic pubic lice that one infects people with on purpose. Then you log on to your fancy future computer, and see exactly where your Nano-Crabs go by using GPS. There will be all sorts of reporting capabilities—graphs in bright colors, for instance—and if you’re so inclined, the ability to send e-cards to the current owner of your crab-bots. My Nano-Crabs can even fucking collect the DNA from the very vagina your dirty, cheating bastard is dipping in to. I really like the idea of spy STDs.
Last weekend there was a spot of rain, and the weather has been significantly cooler at night, and hot damn my morning glories are in heaven.
(That’s wee little Meggles in my window.)
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