The first problem is that my girlfriend is out of town on vacation. (Or so she says; quite possibly she’s, in reality, a secret super hero who equips herself with a white, puffy hat and a ladle full of vengeance as she prepares to serve the world’s Evil Bad Guy Men-Types a heaping helping of Campbell’s Cream-of-Justice. “Look!” They’ll say. “In the kitchen! It’s an omelet, it’s a truffle–no, it’s her! Le Cordon Bleu!” Me, although I have no problem with women of power–you have to admit that a vengeance ladle is powerful–but I’m hoping she’s just on vacation. 'Cause then she might bring me back a souvenir.)
The second problem is that I have little to do. I’ve fed the cats. I’ve fed the dogs. I’ve fed the cats to the dogs (or tried to; when I put the two cats and the two dogs in the cage together, I was hoping for an amusing animated short full of music and pratfalls a la Warner Brothers or Hanna-Barbera, but all I got was mottled red fur) and I’ve even gone so far as to do the dishes. But I’m bored. I thought of trying my hand at doing something momentous like cure world hunger; help pull a few dangling modifiers back from the ledge they’re, well, dangling from; invent the wheel; re-invent the wheel; or, now that I think the whole wheel thing, fix the flat tire on my old car, but none of that sounded appealing.
At one point in the evening I attempted to call her to see what she was doing and whether she was either having a good time, or possibly, busy subduing her nemesis, Salmonella Sid.
“I’m busy,” she said as she picked up.
“I know, Honey, but I thought I’d call and tell you that I love you, you’re the world to me and you’re more exciting than socks on a rooster.”
“I’m busy.”
“Yes, Sweet Puddle of Love, I know that. But I love you. And I miss you. And I just want to tell you one thing.”
“I’m busy, but go ahead.”
“WAAAAZZZZZZZUUUUPPPP?!?!”
There goes my souvenir.
So, I’m back to not having anything to do. Any suggestions?
Why, from the same place that I assumed all good little boys and girls get their expressions: from the Unique Expression Fairy TM!
When you were younger, didn’t you occasionally leave an old expression–worn and trite–under your pillow, in hopes that the Unique Expression Fairy would come to replace those expressions with brand-new ones, full of shine and promise?
Or, if he/she wasn’t broke that night, maybe fifty cents?
Huh. I kinda thought everyone got ‘em from the same place. Just wait until tomorrow morning when I’m hoping to wake and find a giant doozy of an expression waiting for me. It’ll be more than just exciting claw wear for a male chicken, let me tell ya’!
Nah, not where I am. The local city council tried to ban man’s private relationship with his dishes, but since they took our sheep away the year before, the fine citizens of this here Pfaltzgraff & Corning Ware-loving hamlet dutifully stood up and shouted “No more!”
The council, of course, shouted back, “But damnit, that’s just sick!”
Now, admittedly, that statement almost convinced a lot of people, and the night looked like it was going to end with a decisive victory for those who just wanted to “eat” from their collanders the “normal” way. Until…
… one brave, resourceful man stood up and sang a little ditty entitled “Pretty, Pretty Palmolive”. There were plenty of tears at the end of that plaintive musical cry for dinnerware relations.
Now we have a statue of a giant platter (with a napkin covering its “private parts” so the children don’t see–we’re not animals, you know) in the middle of town and a song in our hearts as we literally interpret that whimisical saying, “A bowl-full of happiness!”
Ahh… yes, the Dualit 4 Slice Toaster. Excellent choice, even now, months later.
While others appear satisified with their Black & Decker 2 slice plastic bread warming devices, some of us strive for a higher standard. A standard that speaks of warm butter, slowly dripping down the firm edges of a couple a…
I hear ya - ‘She-Who-Must-Be-Obyed’ is in Malaysia for a couple of weeks and I’ve all day to do nothing too.
If you feel like coming round to my place and washing my dishes and even trying to clean my motorbike you’d more than welcome. That way I could supervise you and it’d give both of us something to do.
Hmmm… that’s quite the tempting offer. However, I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline said offer because of many things. All of them having to do with that I’m lazy. And unfriendly. And I have rabies. And I bite. And, worst of all, I use “and” a lot to start sentences. Surely you wouldn’t someone like me around to clean your motorbike. What if I gave it rabies?
You’d have to shoot the poor thing, you’d blame it on me and I’d be so sad that I’d probably break all of your dishes as I was cleaning them. And then I’d bite the shards and give them rabies, too.
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