This Post Was Successfully Typed With One Space After The Full Stop

My dear old grumpy goat Bear has been having an issue with the pukes, in that he makes a lot of them. I fret that it is diabetes or renal failure or both! Whoopis was so easy to distract with a bowl of kibble when shooting insulin in to his hip, whereas Bear has always been a picky eater, and he isn’t going to be so easily fooled. Over all he seems happy enough. Accepting of pets to his cheeks and base of tail. He’s such a good fellow, and I fear for he is old, and already has to put up with the indignity of two kittens chasing him around night and day. I have off from work Friday and Monday, and I’ll see if the vet can run all sorts of expensive blood tests and diagnose this pukes problem. I just got a credit card with a ridiculous line of credit and no interest for 21 months to pay for whatever the poor fellow will need.

Such beautiful, perfect whiskers on him. Brekkie also has nice whiskers (or as Fat-Bottom Girl calls him, porcukitty).

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Another magnificent Chicken Day has passed. I paid dearly for the good times on Sunday, but it was worth it. CSP seemed genuinely touched by my gift—a mosaic representing our kittens.

That is total genius on my part. It’s almost a shame that this mosaic was my first present to him, because HOW THE HELL AM I GOING TO TOP THAT? Geez, I need to think of the larger picture. His birthday is in March, and argh, it’s not like I can rig it so he wins all his fantasy football games. Sigh.

There was Chicken Limbo, and even Baby Abalam made an appearance.

There was also that time where we asked Siri why Guamaniac was such a good lover, and she got all cheeky and asked him “Is that what you think?” She chided him with a “Now, now,” when he called her a stupid whore, and then she played innocent and claimed to not know what he meant when he demanded she lick his balls.

Yes, I bought myself a lovely present. The camera on this phone is amazing, and makes up for the fact that Siri is completely unhelpful at finding me late-night entertainment.

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This week has been a bit trying. My sinuses are pricking in the most unpleasant, painful manner. There was a bleary 4:45am ride to the airport to send CSP off to his Midwestern home for a week. I’ve stepped in Bear’s pukes so many times that I barely yelp now when I do. And then there is dear fucking Twit who is doing my payroll duties for the week to prove that she can do it all on her own when I am on vacation. She is failing miserably, and I’ve checked the personnel handbook, and it states clearly that I am not allowed to slap her. Thankfully tomorrow is my last day of work for the week, and next week I only have to work two days. Somehow I have to manage getting through a holiday lunch tomorrow with Ex-Cop and co, then I have four days to lounge pantsless in front of a space heater. I’m getting a free steak out of it. That should make it worth it, right? RIGHT?

Where Does One Find a Large, Blow-up Lawn Chicken Ornament?

Driving through CSP’s neighborhood, it’s disconcerting to see the deflated corpses of Christmas cheer. Why do people buy those huge blow-up Santas and Frosties to let them look like downed parachutes rippling in the breeze. The gray days have been stacking up for awhile now, and even these withered bits of color don’t lift my spirits as I speed through his streets averting my eyes.

Work has been sucking the life out of me (ha, maybe I should be out flailing about on CSP’s lawn—I’ll wear some red and green to blend in with the rest of the scenery), but I’ve logged enough miles to be able to afford a new iPhone for Chicken Day. I’m sure it will show up the day I leave for San Francisco, but so it goes. Twit hasn’t been around much lately; got herself approved for FMLA to take care of her mother, and she seems to think that gives her license to come and go as she pleases, which is even more annoying since I’ve been working so hard and she hasn’t. GROUSING! To make myself feel better today, I sent her an email advising that I’m sure it was just a mistake, an accidental misremembering, but she indicated that she came in at 8am when really it was 8:30am. I know this because I was already at the office, and was on my way to a meeting, and pulled out of the garage as she pulled in to it. Take that, lady!  It’s like I have nothing better to do with my time. 

Actually, what I’m really trying to do these days is quit my two-space-after-a-full-stop habit. It isn’t going well. If it looks like I’m doing a good job, please know that I have gone back through this post deleting all the extra spaces. I’m all about appearances around here. I feel like I need to start popping myself in the wrist with a rubber band every time I add an extra space, but sadly, I fret that I cannot remember to stay on task and just type one space, how will I ever remember to try some positive reinforcement on myself?

Yesterday I made my annual visit to the Blue Genie art bazaar. There was some good stuff there, but I managed to walk out empty-handed. If I can ever manage a back catalogue of mosaics, I can easily have a booth there. Glass is seriously underrepresented (but your squid plushy needs are covered thanks to the Ex’s girlfriend). There was a lovely display of painted grackles on large wooden plaques—it’s too bad the artist advertised them as “Grackes.”

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This just happened.

Wikus: Now I must eat, before I die.

Grumples: okay

Grumples: melodramatic

Wikus: Have you ridden 16 miles on only a bowl of oatmeal and two bananas?

Grumples: YES

Grumples: EVERY DAY

Grumples: but on ONE banana!

Wikus: How can you be so full of shit from only one nanner?

Grumples: i poop easily

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It’s time to work on my top-secret Chicken Day project.  I leave you with Clem in a small box.

Hippo Glass Will Kick Your Gorilla Glass’ Ass

It’s been a rainy and cold weekend, which means I spent entirely way too much time in bed, and not enough time working on my various projects.  However, Wikus and I did finish this year’s Chicken Day card.  He changed up the theme—moving away from the samurai chicken, and toward something that I’m sure most people won’t get (I certainly didn’t, but hey, he’s the designer, I’m just the nonpaid help).  If you’re interested in a card, send me your address.  As always, it’s a limited edition. 

I’m working on a top-secret Chicken Day project for CSP.  I’ve been high-fiving myself constantly since I was struck by my brilliant idea.  And I’ve had some good ones, but this one, oh man, I’m so damn jealous that I am giving it to him, and I don’t get to keep it.  I have two weeks to make this happen, so this dreary weather needs to fuck off already.

The boys here at CSP’s are talking about their fantasy football teams.  And there’s football on the television.  BBQ pizza has been ordered, and I’m the only sober person in the room.  The three dogs are all probably high.  I’m not sure how this ended up being my life on Sunday nights, but so it goes.  I’m not complaining, I’m just a bit puzzled how I could have avoided this most of my life, but here I am now.  When did I turn in to a jock-loving sorority girl?

Contrast this with my afternoon of assembling handmade cards, writing a haiku, and debating with Wikus why people have such intense anger toward bicyclists (sparked by this article’s commentators).  If you want to poke Wikus with a stick, just say something negative about a bicyclist in your way when you’re driving.  He’s primed and ready to punch you in the nuts over that one.  Considering how he has spent much of his life getting places on his bike in cities such as Boston, San Diego and Austin, he knows what it’s like to ride alongside some very violent, disgruntled drivers.  I fret for his safety all the time.  Whereas, sitting on this hideous turquoise couch at CSP’s, there’s not much to fret about or debate.  I’m sure going to enjoy the hell out of that pizza, though.

Will someone please explain to me what the heck Gorilla Glass is?  Sure, I read the Wikipedia entry, by why gorilla?  A hippo is so much more fucking tough.  CSP just claimed that hippos are more goofy looking, and not as majestic and tough-looking as gorillas.  Yes, that really explains it all.  I bet it’s the alliteration, and that people still don’t understand how savage cute hippos really are.  It really should be Hippo Glass, dammit.

Even a rhino with its double-horn threat knows not to fuck with a hippo:

I just feel Corning should have done some more research, that’s all. 

Also, CSP is suddenly winning his fantasy football game.  THANK GOD!