The other day I lost my truck key. I had taken it off the bigger key chain for some reason or another, and within five minutes, it wasn't where I left it. The last thing I remember when I walked out of the room five minutes before was one of our cats, Wurther, sitting on the floor watching me intensly as only cats can do. I soon discovered his treachery.
To make a long story short, the little bastard hid my truck key and even after thoroughly turning the house upside down, I could not find it.
I ransacked the place - I checked the laundry, under the beds, the litter box, the couch - you name it. This process was enlivened by my frequent threats of graphic physical violence, the impact of which was somewhat mitigated by the fact that the recipient insisted on licking his ass and gazing at me with supreme indifference while I promised to rend him limb from limb.
Three hours later, after having resigned myself to a fate that included me having to eventually consume him for sustenance, I wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water.
As I rounded the corner from the living room, I heard a telltale jingling. I found Wurther sprawled on the floor with one paw under the fridge, apparently intent on shoving my keys even further under that appliance. With a guilty glance, he sprang up and fled. Not to be denied my revenge, I raced after him, snagged him and introduced him to the delights of my showerhead until massive blood loss (mine) and concert-volume howls (his) forced me to desist. Drenched and thoroughly pissed off (both of us), we spent the remainder of the evening ignoring each other.
At 3 a.m. he crept up as I slept, bit my nose really hard and when I opened my mouth to scream, he began to purr furiously and licked my teeth (every bit as gross as it sounds). A truce was declared.
Not that I doubt his devotion to me - he really is a nice cat --but I’ve learned to keep my truck keys hanging on the hook on the wall just the same.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Friday, June 09, 2006
Hey where's Dana been? Oh let me tell you a story...
A certain friend of mine has never made a secret of her gullibility but no matter how many times she gets burned, she doesn’t seem to learn. One of the areas of her greatest vulnerability is advertising. Marketers are a crafty, soulless bunch and they just adore credulous simpletons like her. She’ll swallow anything if the pitch is even remotely plausible.
Recently, she swallowed something called “Mega Cleanse”. She was seduced and completely hoodwinked by the manufacturer’s claim that the product “would gently and thoroughly rid your system of dangerous toxins, giving you increased energy and bringing your body to optimum performance.” All good, right? She was as keen to have a pristine colon as the next girl, so she slapped down her $20 and went home to give it a try.
While strictly speaking, the manufacturer wasn’t lying, if she had been more astute (say, like an average 11 year old), she may have asked herself exactly how they were going to make good on their claims. As it turned out, that particular mystery was soon solved and not in a good way.
Within hours, she was transformed into a high volume methane factory and things only went downhill from there. For the next few days, she was no more than a blur as she sprinted to the can with such speed, frequency and single-mindedness that by the time the whole ordeal was over, she could qualify in Olympic time trials. She became so familiar with her bathroom that she considered having meals sent in.
Her cat Ivan was initially bewildered at her actions but as the awful truth penetrated his feline brain, he made a face as if to say, “What on earth is that dreadful smell?” and refused to have anything more to do with her. She knew things had become critical indeed if she induced disgust in a creature who regularly licks his own ass. He usually pushes the bathroom door open and leaps onto her lap as she is answering the call of nature, but this time he shoots to the litter box and spends hours digging furiously in sympathy or as futile attempt to exorcise the stench.
As she perched gingerly on her throne for the day, she reached for the box and read it more closely. You’d think that a supposedly reputable company would be more candid with their customers instead of irresponsibly hiding behind words like “gentle”. The unsuspecting public would be better served by a rewrite of the label: “Ingesting this product will cause you to shit yourself blind for the better part of a week and will earn you the open hostility of fellow bathroom users. Entire forests will fall to satisfy your need for toilet paper and you will never be able to listen to “Ring of Fire” in quite the same way again. Before using this product, we strongly recommend that you extinguish all open flames and remain in areas of ample ventilation. Preparation H may alleviate any discomfort or irritation but prudent consumers may also want to stock up on Preparations A thru G.”
Recently, she swallowed something called “Mega Cleanse”. She was seduced and completely hoodwinked by the manufacturer’s claim that the product “would gently and thoroughly rid your system of dangerous toxins, giving you increased energy and bringing your body to optimum performance.” All good, right? She was as keen to have a pristine colon as the next girl, so she slapped down her $20 and went home to give it a try.
While strictly speaking, the manufacturer wasn’t lying, if she had been more astute (say, like an average 11 year old), she may have asked herself exactly how they were going to make good on their claims. As it turned out, that particular mystery was soon solved and not in a good way.
Within hours, she was transformed into a high volume methane factory and things only went downhill from there. For the next few days, she was no more than a blur as she sprinted to the can with such speed, frequency and single-mindedness that by the time the whole ordeal was over, she could qualify in Olympic time trials. She became so familiar with her bathroom that she considered having meals sent in.
Her cat Ivan was initially bewildered at her actions but as the awful truth penetrated his feline brain, he made a face as if to say, “What on earth is that dreadful smell?” and refused to have anything more to do with her. She knew things had become critical indeed if she induced disgust in a creature who regularly licks his own ass. He usually pushes the bathroom door open and leaps onto her lap as she is answering the call of nature, but this time he shoots to the litter box and spends hours digging furiously in sympathy or as futile attempt to exorcise the stench.
As she perched gingerly on her throne for the day, she reached for the box and read it more closely. You’d think that a supposedly reputable company would be more candid with their customers instead of irresponsibly hiding behind words like “gentle”. The unsuspecting public would be better served by a rewrite of the label: “Ingesting this product will cause you to shit yourself blind for the better part of a week and will earn you the open hostility of fellow bathroom users. Entire forests will fall to satisfy your need for toilet paper and you will never be able to listen to “Ring of Fire” in quite the same way again. Before using this product, we strongly recommend that you extinguish all open flames and remain in areas of ample ventilation. Preparation H may alleviate any discomfort or irritation but prudent consumers may also want to stock up on Preparations A thru G.”
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Something quick
A man travels to Spain and goes to Pamplona during the great "running of the Bulls" festival.
After his first day there, he goes out late for dinner at a restuarant in the center of the town. He orders the house special and he is brought a plate ,with potatoes, corn, and two large meaty objects.
"What's this?" he asks.
"Cojones, senor," the waiter replies.
"What are cojones?" the man asks.
"Cojones," the waiter explains, "are the testicles of the bull who lost at the arena this afternoon."
At first the man is disgusted, but being the adventurous type, he decides to try this local delicacy. To his amazement, it is quite delicious. In fact, it is so good that he decides to come back again the next night and order it again. This time, the waiter brings out the plate, but the meaty objects are much smaller.
"What's this?" he asks the waiter.
"Cojones, senor," the waiter replies.
"No, no," the man objects. "I had cojones yesterday and they were much bigger than these."
"Senor," the waiter explains, "the bull does not lose every time."
(I just thought I would share.)
After his first day there, he goes out late for dinner at a restuarant in the center of the town. He orders the house special and he is brought a plate ,with potatoes, corn, and two large meaty objects.
"What's this?" he asks.
"Cojones, senor," the waiter replies.
"What are cojones?" the man asks.
"Cojones," the waiter explains, "are the testicles of the bull who lost at the arena this afternoon."
At first the man is disgusted, but being the adventurous type, he decides to try this local delicacy. To his amazement, it is quite delicious. In fact, it is so good that he decides to come back again the next night and order it again. This time, the waiter brings out the plate, but the meaty objects are much smaller.
"What's this?" he asks the waiter.
"Cojones, senor," the waiter replies.
"No, no," the man objects. "I had cojones yesterday and they were much bigger than these."
"Senor," the waiter explains, "the bull does not lose every time."
(I just thought I would share.)
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