“Dude, I have been on the phone nonstop this morning… no kidding… it’s NUTS!”
“I know I am dangerously close to nuts from listening to him make all those phone calls.”
“It’s true, you are. Who is that girl sobbing on the floor?”
“Well, Amelia, that’s Evildeb, and she’s already gone around the corner from nuts to looney. I’d better take her outside for a walk.”
“I think so… I think she might bomit.”
DrinkJack was out and about this weekend, and happened to see the following tribute to Amelia, so he sent me a picture.
“It’s very pretty, Amelia.”
“Yes, it is nice… I like the trees.”
“Where do you think it leads?”
“Duh… the airport!”
Scientology is losing members to a newer religion – Fictionology. So sayth The Onion. And I believe every word they say because they are genius. Also, I believe because I want to live in a world of pretend, 24/7.
So who would be your patron saint?
Amelia says:
Don’t use a noun as the predicate, when a perfectly good verb already exists. Verbs describe action. People want to know what’s happening. When you use words like "matrix" as a verb, it makes Jodi bang her head against the wall.
"People do not matrix to other organizations! I can only assume that you mean move or transition, but perhaps you mean skip or dance. Or perhaps he will kung-fu over to another organization… I don’t know!!"
Have we learned nothing from Schoolhouse Rock?
"When I use my imagination (Verb!)
I think, I plot, I plan, I dream…
Turning in towards creation (Verb!)
I make, I write, I dance, I sing…"
*and other countries as well.
– It’s Loon’s birthday! Happy birthday Loon,
– Saturday was Evildeb’s Evil Birthday! Happy Evilday, Deb! She was in Victoria BC, and I was under quarantine, so I have not celebrated an evil birth ritual with her yet. Any ideas?
– I just ordered my Mac Mini, using the discount given unto my P.O.E. by Apple. Hooray! My home system needed an upgrade. My G4 will become the delegated MP3 server.
– Due to a physical injury, the monkee is rumored to be a bit more subdued and “quiet,” currently. But I don’t notice a difference.
– Also, I just pre-ordered the Sims2 for the Mac. It comes out on June 13th. [birthday of Liloo and my uncle Jim.] So the blog may go, as they say in the theatre world, dark for a bit. Dark, with strong possibilities for sim stories.
– I got a Mother’s Day card in the mail from my cat.
I said three things and that is six… sorry. I’m still not quite myself, truthfully.
Amelia says “hi!”
Like that. BAMF! I came home from work last night, and went into my room to kick my shoes off, I got a little too close to my bed and it sucked me in and under the covers. It has a tendency to do that. Pru was happy because she was looking for something warm and squishy to lie down upon, something into which she could hook her claws. All of the sudden I wake up, it’s 30 minutes later, and I am sick. Just like that. Sore throat, congestion, achey head… some stupid cold just came in and bit me.
I came into work today, but most people have requested I go home. Everyone stands well away from me. Except Amelia. Speaking of her… many people tell me that what the world needs now are bracelets that say W.W.A.D. That would be cool. I asked her what she would do in my situation, if she were sick:
“I think you should go over and lick the monkee’s phone receiver, when he’s away from his desk.”
“BRILLIANT!!”
“This is the single least expensive way to do it, bar none, no exceptions, the least expensive. *pause* There is one exception….”
“Wha.. wha.. what? Hang on… you can’t say bar none and then say there is another way!!”
“Shhhhh, Amelia, look – I turned the page on the kitten calendar! Aren’t May’s kittens cute? Widdle kitties…”
“No problemo… I just got an email from him with a bunch of details about the deal. Which I find incredibly ironic, since I just shot an email off to him 5 seconds before asking for details about the deal!”
“That’s not irony, you moron, it’s a coincidence!!”
“Shhh…Amelia, settle down.”
Jeez’m rice but the new 2.3 version of Ecto is gorgeous! I don’t know if any of you bloggers use a third party blogger aps to write your posts, if not, you should check out Ecto. I’m sorry, but when good applications get better, and prettier, I get all warm and mooshy inside. It’s got this beautiful new Amazon button! Something I used to do by hand… oh dear, I’m drooling all over myself. I’m such a geek. I am truly, honestly giddy right now. There is just so much… software beauty coming out right now. Adobe Creative Suite 2, Ecto 2.3, Mac OS X 10.4 Tiger…. I just want to lick Tiger.
Now that you are disgusted and repelled by my übergeekiness, let me tell you my new favorite search string, “What influences do Mexican Foods have on Nova Scotia.” How random is that? Unfortunately, I am sure they did not get the answers they were seeking from me. Now, I must ask that someone stop me from constantly looking at the search strings!! Seriously, it’s becoming compulsive. I have no self control. Someone needs to take me in hand. I mean, good luck in doing that, but still… someone should at least try. I think Amelia is worried about me. Although yesterday we were both cracking up because the monkee was telling a golf story.
“Golf… naturally. I bet he has tiny little golf clubs.”
“Amelia!!”
I really did not want to go to ball class today. It’s so hard! I hate working hard. Sure, the balls are bouncy and fun. But we don’t get to bounce up and down on them very much. We do things with them that hurt. Maybe not today, but tomorrow they will. But, my very own ball was due to arrive today, and I needed to pay for it. And, ball class is kinda fun, except for the whole working hard part. So I asked Amelia what to do. I do that occasionally now that I look at her every day.
“why would you even ask me that? Of course you should go to ball class!”
Amelia is not lazy like me. She’s a risk taker and an adventurer. And you know, she has excellent bone structure. Very striking woman. She, too, is not impressed with the monkee. And this morning, when the he was upset, and damn near yelling, she rolled her eyes.
“What a slimey little toad.”
Sometimes, she mimics him back to me, and I have to concentrate on not laughing.
“Hey guy… shoot me an email. I’ll tell you what, I’d like to shoot him, but not with an email. Is this what men of your time are like? Hand me the phone, hold it up to me, I want to call this guy up and explain to him what real men are like”
Oh, Amelia, you’re so bad.
