Monday, October 06, 2003

Yawn!


Today I am home "sick" which is code for SICK! I am soooo dying right now. Not dying in the sense that I can't prop myself upright and make a feeble attempt at entertaining you, my public, but sick in the sense that my head hurts, I'm so tired I can't even figure out how to open the milk (true story), I'm slightly nauseous (probably due to lack of breakfast -- see aforementioned situation involving the fucking "child-proof" milk container!) and my joints ache. Now, I fully realize this is because I full-on over extended myself during the "7-day-birthday-extravaganza" that was last week but as it was all for a good cause (My beautiful Boo's birthday!) I am mostly prepared to suck it up and soldier on. [side note here, how freaking brillant is Lyle Lovett?? "My angel in distress/you look o.k. to me/ I'll send you my address/ when I know what it will be/ well I could easily stay with you/ on your side of heaven's door/ cause I don't love you any less/ but i can't love you anymore...."]



Now then. Quick week-end update: Birthday bash was fabulous! All the pretty people were there and much merriment was had by all. There was a bit of a time crunch at the end there since the way the party place worked was that the kids got an hour of running amok followed by 45 minutes to eat pizza and cake and figure out the present situation. Cool in theory but in reality there's no freaking way seventeen kids are going to settle and eat and open lootbags and trade stuff and burst into tears for no reason in that short amount of time so although the troops made a valiant effort it still seemed a bit rushed toward the end. No worries though, Mr. Lovah-Lovah and the Fabulicious, Ms. B were good enough to get much of the hilarity on tape so I'm sure the only thing we'll remember three years from now will be the screaming.


So, last night i was sitting in a miserable about-to-get-really-sick heap on the porch and who (or rather what) should decide it's time to pay Ms. Magnet a visit? That's right, the friendly neighborhood possum who apparently lives under my house. A possum! Now, don't get me wrong but I'm a desert kid; I know nothing of furry beings the size of small dogs with long, rat-like tails and prehensile paws. In addition to hailing from the land of scaly creatures who run when you approach, I'm also a city-dweller. How the hell [excuse my french] does a freaking possum 1) get into the city in the first place, 2) decide to live smack underneath a fairly busy residence [although not so much anymore since I've gone into semi-retirement] and 3) make friends with the resident pack of cats so there's no fighting over the kibble on the porch? Furthermore, what possesses aforementioned animal to suddenly decide that I am no threat whatsoever to his dinner activities?? A possum!!!! What are we, in alabama??! Christ!

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