Give me a P, give me an M, give me an S.
Dec. 15th, 2005 10:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tinhuvielartanisWhat does that spell?
Danger, Will Robinson!
I'm in a foul mood. I'm in a "I will hit you with a large spiked bat" mood. I'm in my monthly "give me my menstrual hut out in the wilderness because I'm a menace to society" mood. It doesn't help that I'm already sick but, now, I have cramps and my head is threatening to enjoy a piercing migraine. I want to train my Yorkshire Terrier to open up large cannisters of whoop-ass on unsuspecting passers-by. He's already halfway there. Chester was born with a 'tude.
Which reminds me of Gloria's little Yorkie, Hope. She's a rescued dog and hates everyone except for Gloria. She wants to bite your arse off, but she can't because she has no teeth. So here she is gumming her victims when they come into her abode. The other evening, Gloria tells, Hope squeezed out of a wee hole in the fence and went running down the street. Gloria was already in her jammies and took off after her little ghetto-pooch (with nods to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
clumsycake, who has the original two ghetto dogs). Gloria is new to the neighbourhood, having just bought her home. So the neighbours see the new addition to their territory hauling ass down the street in her jammies, chasing after a toothless rat with a hippie wig and a bad attitude. Now that's comedy. It can't be written or acted out. It just happens naturally, yo.
Motley is coming along nicely. She had the last of her meds today, so I suspect her stool will become normal in short order. It's about time 'cos she's stinking us out of house and home. Of course, I know that Manx's tend to have anal problems, or so I've heard. I need to do more research on that and see what I'm in store for. Anyway, she's following me around now, which is very cool as I didn't expect that type of behaviour so soon. Honestly, it's like someone flicked her switch from feral to tame i the course of a few seconds. It's the strangest thing I've seen in a while. But it's a hoot to watch her run. She's got that Manx bunny hop going on and it's just so adorable. Shmoop is playing with her, but Smidgen tends to mother her. She just watches and mrrns when appropriate. I guess, since she's the oldest, Smidgen is now the house mother of the indoor pride.
So here's a pic of Motley, being all tame and appearing as though she's grinning like a fool.
Oh, and here's a pic of her quickly-becoming-infamous poothole.
Yeah, she looks all cute there, but she's a source of all that's foul on this planet.
This was supposed to be a post about my foul-ass mood but, as usual, I'm gushing about the beasties. Seriously though. I'm Croning it up, man. My Inner Kali is screaming for heads and arms. I looked in the mirror and my face was dark blue and my tongue was hanging out. Maybe it's because I was just thirsty and cold at the time.
Speaking of cold, I got some nighttime piccies of the frozen contorted filbert.
Just looking at those pictures makes me want to drink something hot. I need some Baileys Irish Creme to pour in my Espresso. I also need some hot chocolate. I need some drugs that will knock my ass out for a while, too. I need too many things that I just can't have. So my mood becomes more sour by the minute.
Danger, Will Robinson!
I'm in a foul mood. I'm in a "I will hit you with a large spiked bat" mood. I'm in my monthly "give me my menstrual hut out in the wilderness because I'm a menace to society" mood. It doesn't help that I'm already sick but, now, I have cramps and my head is threatening to enjoy a piercing migraine. I want to train my Yorkshire Terrier to open up large cannisters of whoop-ass on unsuspecting passers-by. He's already halfway there. Chester was born with a 'tude.
Which reminds me of Gloria's little Yorkie, Hope. She's a rescued dog and hates everyone except for Gloria. She wants to bite your arse off, but she can't because she has no teeth. So here she is gumming her victims when they come into her abode. The other evening, Gloria tells, Hope squeezed out of a wee hole in the fence and went running down the street. Gloria was already in her jammies and took off after her little ghetto-pooch (with nods to
clumsycake, who has the original two ghetto dogs). Gloria is new to the neighbourhood, having just bought her home. So the neighbours see the new addition to their territory hauling ass down the street in her jammies, chasing after a toothless rat with a hippie wig and a bad attitude. Now that's comedy. It can't be written or acted out. It just happens naturally, yo.Motley is coming along nicely. She had the last of her meds today, so I suspect her stool will become normal in short order. It's about time 'cos she's stinking us out of house and home. Of course, I know that Manx's tend to have anal problems, or so I've heard. I need to do more research on that and see what I'm in store for. Anyway, she's following me around now, which is very cool as I didn't expect that type of behaviour so soon. Honestly, it's like someone flicked her switch from feral to tame i the course of a few seconds. It's the strangest thing I've seen in a while. But it's a hoot to watch her run. She's got that Manx bunny hop going on and it's just so adorable. Shmoop is playing with her, but Smidgen tends to mother her. She just watches and mrrns when appropriate. I guess, since she's the oldest, Smidgen is now the house mother of the indoor pride.
So here's a pic of Motley, being all tame and appearing as though she's grinning like a fool.
Oh, and here's a pic of her quickly-becoming-infamous poothole.
Yeah, she looks all cute there, but she's a source of all that's foul on this planet.
This was supposed to be a post about my foul-ass mood but, as usual, I'm gushing about the beasties. Seriously though. I'm Croning it up, man. My Inner Kali is screaming for heads and arms. I looked in the mirror and my face was dark blue and my tongue was hanging out. Maybe it's because I was just thirsty and cold at the time.
Speaking of cold, I got some nighttime piccies of the frozen contorted filbert.
Just looking at those pictures makes me want to drink something hot. I need some Baileys Irish Creme to pour in my Espresso. I also need some hot chocolate. I need some drugs that will knock my ass out for a while, too. I need too many things that I just can't have. So my mood becomes more sour by the minute.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 03:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 04:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 04:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 05:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 04:58 am (UTC)I like your bush.
and
Your little pussy is cute too.
no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 05:02 am (UTC)You're such a lesbian.
no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 05:05 am (UTC)I blame
And on another related note, Brian's been refering to me as Peppermint Patty, and "Sir". He cooked cheesecake. I used a hammer, and screwdriver to hang the blinds. Who's the woman *now* bitch!
no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 05:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 02:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 10:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-17 01:55 am (UTC)