Well, heck, Ex, you can take me to dinner any time. Not many men recognize my spiffiness. Just let me know the next time you’re in Jacksonville or vicinity.
In fact, that goes for anybody. I don’t discriminate. If I’m willing to be seen in public with a disreputable old geezer like swampbear, you gotta know my standards aren’t too high.
Dang, with charm like that, who can resist? I expect my inbox to be brimming with dinner invitations in no time! Of course, Rue will always be my first choice, because of our special friendship and all. If he comes to Jax, all bets are off.
There is exactly zero chance that I will ever arrive in Jacksonville, Florida. There is very little chance that I will ever be found anywhere in Virginia, Maryland, or Delaware either.
There’s a good reason for this, which I won’t get into, but it relates to the fact that I refuse to set foot on an airplane.* No offense to FairyChatMom or any other aeronautical engineers out there, but I just don’t trust those things.
If my boss tries to send me to DC again, I’m going to insist on going by train, which I don’t much like either. I mean really, some dipstick stalls his truck on a grade crossing and I get to die a horrible flaming death? I think not.
Therefore, odds are that I will never get within three hundred miles of FairyChatMom.
My taking her out for dinner seems unlikely.
*[sub]Before somebody jumps in here and says “you’re an engineer and should know better,” let me say that I’m also intimately familiar with fatigue mechanics and the design of commercial turbofan blades.[/sub]
[sub]I am not afraid. repeat. I am not afraid. Just a little scared.[/sub] Exgineer ol’ pal thanks for the house offer, but I’ll stay round here. Albany, NY is too snowy/icey for me. If I were you, I would give serious consideration to welby’s offer. A room, beer and food. Now that’s a host! Oh, and I’m not afraid of airplanes, but I still don’t like em either. Course I’ll fly. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Urk. Got up at 7 to find out that cat is sick again. There goes $500, or possibly $1500 if we decide to get him surgically altered so it doesn’t reoccur.
He’s got Feline Urinary Syndrome, which means he gets plugged up and can’t pee. This is the third time since September :(.
I might start a thread about this, but probably not. Poor kitten. He’s only about 1 1/2, and he’s been sick quite a bit.
I’m not going to joke about Lissla’s cat. I mean, he’s not mine, so it would be easy. But I’m not all that heartless, so I won’t.
But I think the “fish camp” is funny. Little fishy tents and the fish would be sitting around the… well, it wouldn’t be a campfire since they’re fish and that means they live underwater where campfires are notorious for not being, but it would be the fish equivalent of a campfire and they’d sing fish songs and eat s’mores. I wonder what kind of crafts fish would do. Hmmm…
Hey! Maybe we should have a FairyDope. We all show up at Snickers’ house and then… uh… drink stuff and eat stuff til FairyChatDad comes at us with guns. Or something. Maybe someone could swing by Albany and pick up Ex. Might have to chloroform him and toss him in the trunk since I’m not sure how he feels about cars. Or we could rent a U-Haul and chloroform Ex and then wrap him in bubble-wrap (and he’d have a snorkle so he could breathe) so he’d be safe. Then fill the rest of the U-Haul with packing peanuts for extra (Extra) safety.
It’s something to think about.
Case del DeDay is even more beautiful today. We just got finished painting Soupo’s room. (And this time I really mean Soupo.) It’s quite lovely now. It’s toast.
-Rue.
I’ve got no problems at all with cars, Rue. The car in question has to be mine, or belong to someone I trust to maintain his or her vehicle properly. Like FairyChatMom, for instance. My only other condition is that I usually have to drive.
People with whom I’m willing to ride:[ul]- My dad, although he’s starting to lose it.
My brother.
My brother in law.[/ul]
People I refuse to ride with:[ul]- My mother. She’s dangerously slow and timid.
My sister (married to aforementioned brother in law, duh). She has no spatial awareness whatsoever, and constantly has to break hard to avoid rear-ending other vehicles. And these days she lives near Boston, for crying out loud. Of course, she sorta’ fits in with those people.
My girlfriend, for the same reasons as my sister. Plus she doesn’t gauge turns really well. Move over sweetie, I’m driving.[/ul]
So, obviously, I have no problems with cars at all, really.
What’s the problem here? Nobody wants to talk about bubble-wrap, U-Hauls, chloroform, packing peanuts, or feline urinary tracts? (That was a worthy hijack, Lissla Lissar, and I salute you.)
Do I really have to start yammering on about the monkeys again?
Do I?
Okay, I will.
alice_in_wonderland has monkey pants. That’s just dead sexy.
You’ll notice that I said “pants” instead of “panties” so as not to be vulgar.
I think there should be “Ugly Pants of Shame”. When you’re not really bad enough to go to jail, but people need to know you “do not play well with others”, you should have to wear Ugly Pants of Shame. I’m thinking a striped jobby. Purple, yellow, red and orange stripes. Only one pocket in back, and none up front.
The Ugly Pants of Shame- sort of a Scarlet Letter for your ass.
looks down at brand new, just got back from the mall and my check hasn’t cleared yet purple, yellow, red and orange striped pants, one pocket in back, and none up front - sighs sadly
um, I don’t have a cat with a urinary tract infection, but I have a dog with an ear infection.
Well my husband’s undies could qualify for the “Ugly Pants of Shame”. But I’ve figured it out. Instead of nagging him about em I just take them out of the laundry and hide em. Then after a few weeks if he hasn’t said anything about em they go in the trash. I’m just waiting for my nosey mom-in-law to find holey worn out skid marked undies behind the canned goods in pantry.
Anyone want to come to Texas for dinner? I’m cooking!
