9.30.06

Category: dribblings

updates: i finally finished the two jobs that were killing me. i now get a whole week “off”. not. i’ll be working in the office at the HCH this coming week. so’s there’s no painting on my schedule…just old people. come by, we’ll do lunch.

kitty business: the kitty cat either ran away or was picked up by someone else. i’m thinking someone picked it up because it was hanging around the house quite loyally until poof, gone. it disappeared the day i was supposed to take it to the vet. convenient for me, huh? i had to call the vet’s all, “hey, i’ve an appointment for 3pm…but the thing is…i can’tfindthegodamcatanywherei’msosorryi’musuallynotthisflaky. sorry!” i’m sure it happens all the time.
suuurrrrrre it does, jaimie.

the only bad thing is i think that my friends all think that i secretly took the kitty to the pound or to have it killed or whatnot. when i told them about it liz gave chris the look of “we should’ve taken the kitty. we knew jaimie would screw this up. she has a heart of stone. we knew this. we knew that her capacity to care for more than books and cartoons was nil. and yet, we left her in charge of a sweet kitty. we are fools.”

and he returned her look with one that said, “the situation is highly regretable. it seems to me we had no choice but to trust in the Lord Almighty and if He saw fit to trust jaimie with a precious, starving kitten, who are we to question? although it makes one wonder just what in hell God was thinking.”

which is strange because chris is usually pretty expressionless.

television update: he couldn’t even wait a full week before having the cocking cable company over for coffee, snacks, and to install some kind of high definition mumbo-jumbo complete with a ti-faux thing that supposedly records shows i want to see. he tells me this only costs an extra $5 a month.

because i was born last night.

with no brain.

i’ve suppressed my rage into a mr. fleegan shaped tumor in my head (right next to the one shaped like a cellphone) because, “hey,” i thought, “i can record Monty Python and not have to stay up after midnight to watch it. i can watch it WHEN. I. WANT.”
RESULT!

how bad can this machine be?

so. what did it record?
well, it started recording in the mibble of Vicar of Dibley. yes, the MIDDLE. and then it stopped recording 5 minutes into Monty Python.

“jimmy. give me one reason why i shouldn’t kill this damn thing right now. why? why do we need digital damn high def blah blah cork soaking cable in the bedroom where we can’t even show the actual people we entertain in the actual room we entertain them in with this complete wonderful suckfest that is this shitball machine. one. one reason.”

“look at the clarity on this. it’s like we’re there,” he says.

“*sigh* do we at least get the National Geographic channel? BBC?”

“yeah.”

“we do?!”

he scrolls through the channels.

“wait! is that….music channels?”

“yeah, they always throw it in; it’s lame.”

“showtunes. put it on showtunes!”

“they don’t have showtunes on this…”

“45 damn digital radio stations? they sure as shit have showtunes.”

“no they don-“

“ha! showtunes!”

“*groans* oh no.”

that’s right. force your expensive, nonnecessary televised techno-geekery on me will you? i’ll make you suffer with showtunes and the beeb. have at you!

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