I did my usual routine this a.m.–
1. Edsel bounded up to show his teeth to the alarm,
2. everyone got in my effing way while I tried to get out of bed,
3. everyone continued in my way as I ambled down the hall,
4. I made coffee and was alarmed by the machine's alarm
–and as usual thought, "What Ima blog about today?"
You know those scary movies where they have many voices whispering at the same time? That is what went on in my head, including a maniacal laughter in the background.
So this will be one of those many, many topics kind of posts.
Topic the first
Topic the deux
When I was in my home town for that (wait for it) Indian wedding (yes! She mentioned it again. Hand five bucks over to your friend), my mother and stepfather and I went to an estate sale. All I bought was a copy of Chelsea Handler's Are You There Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea. Because I am deep.
My point is, I have to put the book down after about 15 minutes of reading, because I always end up laughing so hard I burst something. Last night she was complaining about a friend building the anticipation about a birthday gift she had bought for Chelsea. She went on and on. "It was like she had found me a vibrator that also makes tacos," Chelsea wrote.
Seriously, I thought I would never draw breath again.
Topic twaaaa. I am annoying with "twaaaa." I am like people who think it's "waaa laaa" and not voila.
I really wish I could tell you how much it annoys me when people write "waa laa." Anyway, I just got a new topic based on something I said above. Happily for us all, I will not be mentioning vibrators and tacos again. Except I just did. My POINT is they ("they") should come up with a word that means "my regularly scheduled parent and my stepparent" that is like saying "parents" but is a different word.
I'm a busy executive. I have no time to say "my mother and stepfather" all day.
Fourth topic. Same as first. A little bit louder a little bit worse.
Five! Topic five!
Those of you who are Facebook friends with Tallulah (she is Tallulah Gardens if you want to try to friend her. She is super persnickety about who she allows in her highfalutin' lair) already saw this photo of my insane girl eating bees. She would not stop trying. Clearly the thought of making me rush her to the emergency vet with anaphylactic shock was her Labor Day goal.
Topic of Cancer
Also? You know how I detest it when people say, "He THINKS he's a lapdog" or "He THINKS he's a person!" about their pets?
I think Roger might think he's a dog.
Get in line to bitch slap me.
But really. When we go on our dog walks? Every day he tries to walk with us. He just starts trotting down the road. And yesterday? I was playing fetch with that in-need-of-Ritalin Edsel? And every time I tossed the spitty plastic toy, Roger would run alongside Edsel to get the toy. It was the cutest thing.
Be sure to say to me, "Why didn't you get a picture of that, June?" Because I love it when you expect me to live MY WHOLE LIFE thinking about this blog.
I eight the topic.
That climb up Mt. Christ When Will This End or wherever we were the other day? Was exhausting. Do not know if I mentioned that. However, Edsel tore up that entire mountain, then tore back down, then Daniel Boone played with him in the yard when we got home.
And he still had energy.
Someone please take me back in time to last year, when I said, "Oh, I need a puppy!"
Whatever number topic we're on.
Just so I don't have to hear it from the cat people–and how DO you fit your tail in your cubicles at work?–here are R and A reacting to my new camera with flash. Pleased with me, is what they are. And yes, that IS Pantene conditioner on the kitchen counter. I like my dishes to be silky.
Note that my clock still reads 7:26.
I would like to remind the crowd, which I just accidentally wrote as "crows" and am cracking self up, that Roger is YOUNGER than Anderson. And yet? He is still a puma. His bigness is almost scary.
I watched two pertinent shows yesterday: the all-day-long episodes of the Kardashians and also that hard-hitting, touching-on-all-the-issues-of-our-time Real Housewivs of Beverly Hills. Both were enormously satisfying.
I like the guy Kim Kardashian is going to marry. I guess she did marry him. Whatever. Anyway, all of those women seem to marry decent men. Well. That Kourtney knows how to pick 'em with that sleazy Scott. But otherwise.
And you know what depresses me? Is that I know all this about the Kardashians.
Moving on to my deep Housewives show, I really do not get the whole little-dog-wearing-clothes thing. Do you know why I like dogs? Because they are dogs. Not mute teeny hairy humans.
Speaking of which, I should go groom for work. Get my underthings from my dogs and get dressed. Maybe I should get bigger dogs so my underthings look smaller…