It Could Be Worse Somehow

My love, Echinoia Eeeps disappeared right after supper last night, leaving behind only a faint odor of stale fart. If this is going to be her stage act, I'm guessing that it could use some work yet, though you won't ever catch me saying so out loud, knowing what those fists of hers can do.

My love, Echinoia Eeeps had to go on vacation without me because I refused to leave without my pants, no matter how "cute" she thought that would be. Now I can hang out at home without pants for two weeks and just relax, enfolded in layers of completely private cuteness.

My love, Echinoia Eeeps is hoping to start a new religion, possibly centered around apple pie, because apple pie is already popular and people are willing to fork over hard cash for it. Hard cash might turn out to be one of the founding sacraments. Most likely, I think. She did ask me if I thought I could burn incense without setting myself on fire, so there may be a paying role for me here too. But nevertheless, I can always fill in as a part-time sacrifice if the incense thing doesn't pan out, so it may be a "go". (Sound of muted woots, like in the olden days.)

My love, Echinoia Eeeps is never satisfied. I washed and waxed her tank, filled it with hi-grade diesel, bought a year's supply of ammo, and now she wants me to run around the pasture behind the house while she sharpens up her skills with the machine gun. But what can I do? If I get her mad, she may be tempted to bite me again, and I sincerely don't need that.

My love, Echinoia Eeeps started a toad ranch while I was asleep. She does that sort of thing. On a whim. "Whimsical", she calls it. Feels proud of herself. What I actually suggested was a turd ranch, but she missed the humorous part of that, so now we have toads. At least they eat the flies, which is a major downside to all turd ranches.

My love, Echinoia Eeeps said she'd really prefer me to be a lot hairier. This has been a thing for quite a while. She basted me with butter and turned off the water to prevent unnecessary bathing until I developed a nice layer of body-wide mold, which was soft, to be sure, though not nearly durable enough for her needs, so next up she's going to cover me in Elmo's Glue goo and have me roll around in the Eeeps Family Fuzz Room until I pick up a decent coating of hair trimmings, pit shavings, and nose clips. I'll let you know later how that shakes out, in case you're facing a similar situation.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Obviously living one version of the good life here.

Emille Girron Did Not Shave A Cat This Week

It's Friday, the noise machine has been repaired, and I can't hear well enough to see what I'm writing.

It's Friday, the noise machine has been repaired, and I'm wondering if it's too late to die of tuberculosis. Has something to do with potatoes, right?

It's Friday, the noise machine has been repaired, and I've been masturbating all week while waiting for the bus to work. Tired now, really tired, and nothing to show for it, except this lousy arrest warrant.

It's Friday, the noise machine has been repaired, and even my pants are getting rumbly. If I were a lizard, I probably wouldn't notice so much. Or a snake. Snakes are all deaf, I hear. I hear you, deaf snake, and I'll raise you two dead mice, see if that helps.

It's Friday, the noise machine has been repaired, and something just fell off that building across the street. Too big to be a mouse, too small to be a crocodile, to odorous to be approachable, too wet to be dry, too squishy to be friends with.

Fridays always arrive early. That's why Saturdays never catch up with them. That's the reason, I think.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Same as always.

Stray Soup

Found a stray cat in my soup. Big one. Says his name is Fred, and he wants to watch me eat. Oh, Fred.

Had a long talk with the cat last night, of mice and men, of sugar and spice, and where to get the best 'nip.

Have you ever sniffed your cat's butt? If you don't have a cat then maybe the neighbor's cat? Or the neighbor? Kind of curious how normal this might be. Send photos if you've gottem. Videos — even better.

I am my own double-blind experiment. At least since I accidentally poked my eyes out with that sixpack of catnip-flavored cat amusements.

I caught the cat wearing a mask. Again. I think he's been out robbing banks. The money is coming in from somewhere.

I could be out hiking now, but I have to feed the cat or he'll get ornery again — 20 lbs of raw meat every 12 hours, if I remember right. If I don't remember right, it gets real awkward.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Recently nominated for something by someone, somewhere.