This morning, I spilled coffee grounds all over yonder, WHICH DELIGHTED ME, and I was late getting Edsel’s food. I messed up his skedge. This discombobulated him, as did me saying thing like “skedge,” so he wandered around the cats’ dishes, a little lost, while he waited.
“HSSSSST [spit]!” I heard. Not just a hiss. A hiss ‘n spit. Man!
“Oooo, you pissed SOMEONE off, Edsel,” I said, as I turned to get his food out. O edzul god, it brown kibul! it a happee day!
Just then, a cat entered the room, and it wasn’t just Steely Dan, it was STEELY DAN BONUS ROUND. He was twice the size of his normal giant self, his tail all toilet-scrubber big, ears back, huge hackles giving him a distinct dinosaur look. A very angry 11-pound gray dinosaur.
I guess the mystery of Who’d Edsel Piss Off has been solved, there, Miss Marple. Hiss Marple.
I have a migraine. That’s why I was doing things like spilling coffee grounds, because synapses not exactly what you’d all El Fire Up. Also I do not make sense.
I was at this burnout party once in high school, or maybe we were just out behind the school, and a bunch of people were smoking the pot NOT ME MOM I REPORTED THEM ALL TO THE PRINCIPAL AND WENT HOME AND THOUGHT ABOUT CIVIL RIGHTS.
Anyway, at the time, the song Elvira was popular, and let’s talk about that for a minute. What made us say, yeah. That one song that goes Giddy up oom poppa omm poppa mow mow. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Let’s make it one of the songs of our generation.
The point is, one burnout girl lit her joint, her gange, her wacky tabackky, and hey, June, blog with a migraine more often. You’re fun. And as she lit it, she sang, “El fire up.”
And right then I knew. I was hanging around the wrong crowd.
Last night, before I was stricken with one of my heads, I noted the sky was really pretty, and I was trying to capture it and Edsel at the same time, with one hand, and my life is sad.
I also had to worry about him mowing down this old lady, with whom he desperately wants to be friends, and with whom he wants to jump right up on, and I look forward to the day he achieves his goal and the family takes me down for my millions.
Oh, god, speaking of millions…
Seriously, HOW MANY DAYS IN A ROW can I forget to plug my Amazon Associate deal? Up there, that photo of the book I wrote, is actually a link to Amazon. Click it, get to Amazon, buy anything at all and I become a rich person.
Anyway, last night, as I was enjoying the sky and so on, I walked down one street and saw an old guy.
“You just move here?” he asked me.
“Ten years ago,” I said, not including my Year Abroad, because who wants to hear that. He’s lived here, like, you know, 40 years or something, and his wife died recently. “I’m getting used to living alone,” he said. “I kind of like it,” he whispered.
“ME TOO!” I said. Eventually I met his other retired friend in the neighborhood, and we stood gossiping for a long time. Edsel wanted to meet both of them, and jumped on them just like I know he’ll do to that old lady, and neither of them seem to be what you’d call dog people.
“What do you call that kinda dog, anyway? Looks like a wolf.”
Yes, that’s Edsel. A wolf. A lone wolf.
Whenever I try to explain the “He’s a Carolina Dog” thing, I think people think I’m making it up. You know, like how I made up finding Violet in my car by getting out a box and buying a polo shirt and getting a stuffed shark toy, then placing her with said props in my front seat and photographing it for my blog. Then going on TV and lying about it across the airwaves.
(Someone on an I-Hate-June page said I lied about finding Violet on my front seat back in 2012. It irks me. The other hate things they said? Eh, fine. Dramatic? Oh, wow, stop the presses. Bad with money? Like I don’t say that 14 times a day. Shouldn’t hang around Ned? Wow, you’re brilliant. No one thought of that. But that I’m some sort of psycho who’d make up the whole Violet thing? Wow.)
(Also? You might want to acquire your own life, there, sparky, instead of spending your time thinking so much about mine.)
Anyway, so my head hurts, but Ima drag self to work in a bit because I always feel guilty when I have a migraine. I didn’t even do anything to deserve this one; I just woke up with it.
I gotta go. I have to lie here willing my head to recover, and then I gotta get my freelance done before 7:00 tonight, so I can go to my old movie theater and watch The Princess Bride. The Poet gave me the four free tickets she won, which was nice of her.
Oh, look. Another Amazon link. That June. How’d she think of that?
My head and I will catch you on the later.