Deer whistles and curried dog
Oh yeah!! I nearly forgot!!!
I happened upon a podcast last Saturday night… they let me into it and I threw it into turmoil and chewed curry in their ears. It’s a cleverly edited chain of ramblings about deer and car crashes and turkey jerky and other such weirdness.
You’ll hear the voices of Grandad Himself, Jefferson Davis, Dr Don, Brian F and me… I’m the only female, the one who always sounds half-asleep… I had no idea that’s what I sound like but I guess it could always be worse, hey.
Dust off yer boots!
No one gets hurt if they don’t act funny
There’s a very excellent scene in Tarantino’s ‘Reservoir Dogs’ – I’m sure you know it. The Fun Lovin’ Criminals robbed a sound byte for their ‘Scooby Snacks’ track it’s that cool. Skip to 1:20 in the following video if you have no clue what I’m on about.
I was reminded of that quote tonight.
I stole Pacino’s cat. I fear that if it had been left with him any longer it would soon be an ex-cat. It’s tail is, for the want of a more scientific term, pretty crusty. It looks like you could break it off and smoke it.
I heard Puppychild giggling in the bedroom earlier… I went in to investigate to find her upside down, her upper shoulders dangling under the bed – she looked like a decapitated pink chicken. I heard the engine-roar of a large cat’s purr from the darkness somewhere.
“What ya doin’?”
“Playin wit the cat!” said a muffled child’s voice.
“Are you torturing that poor animal?!”
“Torture? That’s a good idea!! I like that!”
Open minded
Puppychild has fallen in love with a little traveller-boy from down the road; I caught them kissing behind the bin-shed yesterday, and today they spent three hours together in her bedroom.
I sat quietly in the kitchen picturing a nasty argument in twelve years time involving her daddy laying down in no uncertain (and severely politically incorrect) terms who she should and should not date, leading her to elope and run away to a halting-site in Kells.
Then I wandered in to check on them and found the wee lad dressed from head to toe in a fairy costume and high heels with a pink handbag over his shoulder and realised that I’m probably over-thinking things after all.
Overheard in a supermarket queue…
A tall bloke in a hoodie stands holding a shopping basket beside a kid in a uniform, waiting at the supermarket till in front of me.
“Did ya learn anyting at school today kiddo?”
“Yeah me tree times tables!” says the kid.
“Roigh… what’s tree trees then?”
“Noian” answers the kid.
“No, a small forest!!” The tall bloke grins… “Try again – what’s tree trees?”
“A small forest!” says the kid, giggling.
“No ya big eejit, it’s noian!”
—
I like screwing with my kid’s heads too.
Today I mostly be feeling small
Wasting time on the internet, avoiding the doing of things that should be being done.
I fell upon the origins of the Universe
and realised that nothing that we do will ever be important. Absolutely nothing, big or small.
I can’t figure out whether this is depressing,
or a huge relief.
Who needs a babysitter?
Tourist culling at Grandad’s house is about to get interesting.
Wouldye Groomidge
My dog is applying for a nursery rhyme re-write.
Please adapt your kid’s books accordingly.
Jedding Witters
Definition of Wedding: (w
d
ng)
n
a. The act of remembering to take labels off new shoes.
b. The placing of deodorant under one’s boobs to stop wedding dress chafe.
c. The consumption of vast amounts of Rescue Remedy and Champagne.
d. Trying not to burst into flames upon entering the Church.
e. The act of finally uniting a dysfunctional family and starting a brand new family tree!
Wish me luck?
How the button found its way into the piggybank
You know when you’re clearing out the stuff drawer, or searching for fallen batteries underneath the couch or de-cluttering windowsills and you find bits? Screws, paperclips, strange coins, hinges, BB-gun pellets and batteries (that could be dead or fully charged, it’s anyone’s guess), y’know, that sort of thing… what do you do with them? I’m dying to know. Do you have clutter jars full of odd things growing dusty or do you pocket them till you find their homes only to have to empty your jeans at night into a miniature bedside skip?
Or…do you just throw them out? But *gasp* what if you need them later?! What then? WHAT THEN?!?!
