My apologies to Bill Waterson for using these, but they are so apropos today….and most of us here need the laughs.
Please go like him on FB and buy his books!!! He’s a genius.
I go to see my cardiologist every six moths.
Now, I wasn’t quite sure about his sense of humor, so I wore my new t-shirt under my overalls.
I asked him, “do you have a good sense of humor?”
He said, ” yes.”
“Does foul language bother you?”
I showed him my T-shirt.
My cardiologist has a great laugh.
Someone rudely trolled my page and left a comment that automatically went to my spam jail. Yep, if you don’t see your comments here then they obviously went to my spam jail for some reason or other known only to my spam catcher.
They were extolling their severe problem with my blog being rife with misspelled words.
While I am not always at my best (wide-awake) when writing, I do try to make certain that my spelling is correct. I admit that I do miss the occasional word here and there as I am human and not of their Godlike stature.
However, when Gavin or Lucy take over my blog, I cannot guarantee that any of the spelling is correct.
Visited with G this afternoon for a few minutes. I took her some straws to make drinking easier. I know from a couple of tooth pulling experiences of my own, that straws are a welcome item. She looked so tired that I cut my visit short so she could get back to sleep, which is what I am sure she was doing when I showed up at her door.
I intend to spend the rest of the night curled up with a good book.
You all have a good one!
And this is for all the trolls out there.
My sanity hangs by the thinnest of threads most days. If it weren’t for tons of coffee and a good friend to get me out of the house on occasion I would surely need a padded cell.
From the time I get out of bed until I drag myself back there in the wee hours I don’t get a moment to myself without, at the very least, one interruption.
Spend a half hour in the kitchen preparing a meal and as soon as I take a minute break, and I mean as soon as my butt his the couch, a man or a dog demands I do for them.
Mentally and physically tired doesn’t come near to describing where I am every single freaking day.
“Why do you stay up so late?”
“If I didn’t I’d never get a moment to myself. As it is, what little time I do get is not enough to get anything done for me.”
Yes, that thread wears thinner every day. You can blame my next heart attack on a severe lack of me time.
I cannot watch one more old episode of Criminal Minds without going crazy. I swear he’s watched each one a dozen times. I still watch the new ones, he hasn’t ruined the show for me yet.
Why? Why do we have to watch them? He did the same thing with all the Law and Order shows, now I can’t stand any of them.
Is this a man thing? One must watch good shows repeatedly until your wife (who at one time loved the shows) can no longer stand to even listen to them?
We have dozens of new movies stacked up waiting, nay begging, for us to watch them. I am all for a nightly movie through dinner. There’s not a thing on TV that interests me at that time of day.
Well, last night I blew a gasket and told him to put a movie on. What does he do? He puts on one I wouldn’t watch on my worst day–bought it for him to watch when I was in bed in the mornings. So then he put in one we’d seen.
“What do you mean you haven’t seen this? We watched it together.”
“I don’t remember.”
“Man, I wish I had MS brain and could forget things all the time. We watched this. There’s a huge stack of movies there that we haven’t watched…”
I gave in but was mean enough to tell him what was going to happen throughout.
“Oh, oh! Wait for it…Great line coming…”
He has a brand new, just bought it Tuesday last, movie in the DVD player for tomorrow.
I would not go out last night for my last out without my hoodie and hat. It was too cold! I could’ve frost bited my ears, tail, and feeties!
I plunked my butt down in the kitchen and barked at Mommy when she tried to get me to go out nekkid. I would not let her take me to the back porch without my hoodie and hat.
I should have some warm booties. Momma and Daddy have warm booties. It’s not fair.
I protest this mistreatment of my princess self. I should not have to go pee and poop out in the cold, with that white stuff.
Lucy, Princess extraordinaire.
My sister is an idiot. Yes, it was windy and cold but I went out without a coat and my hat.
I thought I’d attempt to clean my desk. It’s been a while and the dust bunnies running races across the surface and diving under the computer monitor were my first clue that it was time.
Any cleaning done around here is attempted cleaning. Why? Well, I have two dogs and a husband that all think I am their slave. I am subject to their demands from the time I get up until they all are down for the night.
And you people wonder why I am up until the wee hours of the morning and sleep in so late. Ha!
As it was, I spent most of the time clearing and cleaning off my desk while dodging around Lucy who felt she had to be the center of it all.
Three times she took of with my Swiffer duster. She felt real smart having invented a new game of chase me!
Tomorrow, after everyone is off to bed, I will attempt to clean the book cases.
He sed dat no ebil kittehs could get in my cwate while I wabs sweeping an essplode my bed unner me.
Do youze beweevs me? I did not splode my soft soft bed in my cwate. I did not turn my cwate into a pile of foamy rubber, scwaps of materwial, an hairy stuffs.
Momma sez she wishes she had taken a picture ob da mess. I iz out a soft beddie and she sez I don’t get anudder one until da order comes fwom da Petco. She sez da new one won’t be anywhere near as luxyurious as my sploded, fancy one.
Doggone dat army ob ebil kittehs.
I don’t buy discounted Louis Vuitton handbags. My handbags consist of one well-made leather, black with metal beads and skulls, it will last longer than any discounted designer bag.
I may write on this blog, but I didn’t design the page nor have I any control over the design other than choosing pictures and posting on it. If there are some programming errors, do tell WordPress, not me.
I don’t read or write in any language but English so please translate before posting your spam comment.
Those are my most common spammers. 🙂
You all have a good one!
It’s time to re-blog this:
A friend once asked me, “Why in the world would anyone have a Bull Terrier?” This she’d inquired while observing me take evasive action to protect myself from doggy damage. Her face showed she could tell this was a common occurrence and that she found it a tad unnerving.
My Bull Terrier, Malcolm, took another shot at disaster before I answered. He held a large bone, poised in his mouth like a baseball bat, and barely missed taking out my shin. I unconsciously stepped out-of-the-way of sixty-five pounds of armed, muscled freight train on a ‘bully run’.
“Hey, Bull Terriers may be a bit bizarre, but we’re kindred spirits.”
She emphatically nodded in agreement. “Yes, you’re two of a kind.”
“Besides, life would be dull without Malcolm’s antics and wit,” I added.
She shook her head. “I couldn’t do it.”
I could tell she thought it was only a matter of time before the men in the white coats came to take me away, and that she was glad to be standing outside of my fenced yard.
I felt it was important to show her that Malcolm wasn’t so bad, so I called him to me. Of course, he decided at that moment to go selectively deaf. About the third call, he raced over and sat at my side looking angelic.
Malcolm is obedience trained, and I began to put him through his paces off lead.
“Heel.” He did a perfect job. “Stand.” Again, he was flawless. I even added some of his tricks to the demonstration.
“Now, give me your paw,” I told him.
He sat and held his paw up for me to shake.
“Bang.” He dropped to the ground, rolled over on his back, and played dead. “Sit. Stay.” He jumped to his feet, then sat and remained motionless.
My friend watched with great interest and surprise, exclaiming, “But only a minute ago he was crazy.”
I told her, “no, just being silly and blowing off steam.”
After a short down, I released him and he went tearing around the yard again. My friend felt less sure of my ‘insanity’ until I had to sidestep a four-foot long stick Malcolm had found in the hedge. Then I tripped over the tennis ball he’d strategically placed behind me and landed neatly on my backside.
“Booby-trapped,” I muttered.
“I’ll visit you in the hospital.”
She never was a dog person.