I've Never Done This Before.
I have such respect and liking for Fausta; I consider her a mentor and a role model. Fausta is a highly intelligent lady who is also a kind, thoughtful, and considerate person. I read her blog daily; it’s one of my “musts.” If I were ever able to populate my local neighborhood with my Blogosphere neighbors, Fausta is a friend I would want very near me. (I’ve got a list of others I want near me, too. You probably know who you are.)
Fausta has paid me a compliment the height and depth of which have overcome me. I am also scared clean out of my britches, and believe me, that ain’t a sight most people would care to see.
She has asked me to be on her next Blog Talk Radio Program with Siggy, another of my idols.
We’ll be talking about education, parenting, and, speaking of Fausta and Siggy, role models. There might be some leering involved; I’m making no promises. I will try not to snort or say “shit.” I hope I don’t belch. I will try to be interesting.
It’s this coming Monday, June 11, at 12:00 noon Eastern Time. Tune in and call in!
If you call in and ask me if I’m wearing britches, I’ll say “Yes,” but since you can’t see me you won’t really know if I am or not, now willya.
I am, of course, wearing them now. Maybe.
Don't Mess With Me.
Why, yes, I HAVE been known to order a Happy Meal so I can give the cool toy to a well-behaved little child right smack in front of an obnoxious little bratty child.
What’s that? I’m making the obnoxious little bratty child feel bad about himself?
I don’t care.
The end.
Some People's Pets Live Like Paris Hilton Used To Live Before She Was Sent BACK To Prison With The Rest Of The Psycho Drunks
I am not one of those crazy cat ladies. I know they’re animals. I refuse to join the ranks of idiot pet-owners who think their kitties are people.
I have drawn some lines. For example, I will NOT put clothing on my kittens. If they lose their mittens, they’ll have to EARN another pair. And when people start ringing the doorbell at all hours of the day and night wanting pawprints and photo ops, I will oblige. For a dollar.
No, my kittie girls are cats, and cats are animals, and animals should not be treated like people.
First of all, I haven’t done anything that might be considered “pampering” or “catering” since the three kitties came to live with me.
There is no condo in my living room.
Vera ain’t all that cute. I don’t pay much attention to her, really.
Helga ain’t so purty, either. I never pet her.
Millicent ain’t all that, either. Really, I pretty much ignore all three kitties most of the time.
Whenever I sit at my computer, I kick off whatever shoes I’m wearing and usually just leave them under there. In the summer, the shoe-pile consists of dirty sandals. The kittie girls like to nap on top of the shoe-pile. Perhaps they like the smell. . . .
If my feet are still in the shoes under my desk, the kitties sit on top of my feet. Sometimes, they use my legs as a scratching post. I can take a hint. You don’t have to push me down the stairs to make a point.
I’ll shave my legs already.
