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Friday, June 10, 2005

The Daily


Today I saw a real pissing match. Took the dogs for a walk, nice long one an the beagle took a whiz, then Oslo came along and had to redo matters. (Picture of Oslo to the left)

On another note, ran into Carlos for the first time in many months, he gave me two big beautiful bouquets of flowers. Some people are just nice. Well off to coffee!

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

Zen and the art of Vacuum Cleaner Maintenance

This morning I had a terrible scare.



Over the week-end, my son had his birthday party, which was a sleep over for 5 of his 12 year old friends. There had been a pinata, about 20 Lbs of candy and a lot of prepubescent boy energy sizzling through the house. Needless to say, even after my son's best efforts of clean up, a serious cleaning still needed to be done. By a professional...A real retro housewife.



I wasn't too worried about it, being that I had in my possession the vacuum cleaner with the English Accent; "The Dyson". The one that was developed by a man who for some reason spent a lot of time vacuuming, and became so enthralled that he devoted 7 years of his life developing his own, which according to him is the only vacuum guaranteed not to lose suction....


A little background here...and an admission of playing hard and fast with COSTCO's return policy. For those who are unaware, Costco takes back everything you buy there, including vacuum cleaners. My fancy British Cleaner was, in fact, my 5th vacuum cleaner this year. All purchased at Costco, and up until now, all returned. The reason? They didn't suck. Well ok, one was returned because the power cord turned out to be defective in that it allowed itself to be chewed in half by the tiniest of beagles. But the rest were just plain useless. But now, I was the proud owner of the only vacuum guaranteed not to lose suction.



So, I switched my DYSON on with the intention of disposing of the remains of the party. Started swishing back and forth, like one does, when I noticed to my horror that the dirt, doghair and candy remnants were still on the carpet. It had happened. The supposedly impossible. It had lost suction.


Continued tomorrow

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

pet peeves become behemoths while i slept

Any woman who owns a purse that costs more than 1000$ is eligible for an anal probe from my ex-mother-in law, Lilo.she really likes cats so their would be lots of shedding involved. Try to find yourself by comparing yourself to people you seee blasted all over the television set and on commercials . This is a sure fire way to become eligible for lunacy. Just step right up, ladies and gentlemen, and watch a person live their life , which is , in its entirety, just as mundane as yours, but let's watch a stranger take a potty break. I hope their wiping back to front . If you a s a viewer get confused about whether your life is the one outside of the tv , or inside of the tv, just do a quick breast check. The people with perkier breasts are not your friends. THey dont know you. Or, if the plucky breast bit doesn't give it away, try to give donatella a call so she can whip up something for you to wear to the supermarket. Tell her you her six cents off every gallon of gas, and she'll probably throw in some shoes. This is hte real american dream; each individual living as if the whole world was watching. There could never be enough placed products or name brands or hot spots. They have trained us like pavlov's dogs to care about cindy and julia. All the horses in the world are asking, "ive got just such a face, why doesn't richard ever call for a sequel, or a prequel, fuggads sake. In a small community we would have thrown stones at both julia and brittany. Both of them stole men from women who had already popped out kids, or were in the process thereof, and along came liitle red riding brittany. These women should have the public's saliva spat on their chests. Or at least burn them in effigy. Speaking of effigies, whenI was at Berkeley I had a roommate who would slobber over any man with a minimum of testosterone, a bump of a penis, would do. One day she brought home Dave, his arms and knuckles needed tendin as they had been dragged on the ground all day as he went scurrying for food or pussy. Well, lindsey brought home dave and cooke salmon for hiokm, I rather think she may have poached it, perhaps thinking a poached fish laid a better path to this man's heart than pan fried. I was there of course, a beautiful brillian roommate destined to see and giggle over the foilbles of those trying to live, and as the conversation went on. I grew more and more suicidal. These people could help me, one of them has a butter knife... ""dear, who would you burn in effigy?" was being dangled before me like a preposition with no accusative case. "Whom, Lindsey, you white trash pseudo -talent (she was an aahhhhh-hhhhactresssss) is the word when we play with grown ups." "Bitch" was her poignant rejoinder.Cave man, bleeding knuckle boy, have you any misanthropic feelings in that barrel chest of yours? yes, do unbutton and shed that garment, ..ah, those muscles must come from banging the hammer in the hot hot sunn, eh, yes, ahem. Whom should you like to fricasee in effigee. He looked sad, monkey sad. He looked at us like we were monsters. "Ithink I would, like torture them first, or break rheir fingers before anything else. " For a moment I think that I have a member of the oakland family present, but then i realize the words in effigy were new to them, and he figured the best way to stay in this whipping fast repartee was to delete any unknown soulnds, and this plan seemed to have worked out well so far, he went with it again, and he was not going to burn anyone, oh no, he was a sensitive guy. Instead of asking "what does In effigy mean, " he just pretended it hadn't been said, ala Homer simpson. Lindsey had great sex with this long armed ignoramus; it seems long arms are good for more than lust policemen.