CINDERITA AND MOI

Gentle Readers,

I hope you will read this post by the charming Cinderita because it's a lovely post and if you will read all the way to the end, you will discover that she actually mentions ME! Yes, MOI!

She claims my comments on her posts make her laugh. And you all know, I hope, that my goal in life -- even when I'm depressed -- is to make you laugh. I always say I'm the most cheerful depressed person you'll ever meet.

Infinities of love,

Lola

MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE?

Excuse me, Gentle Readers, and for once, it's not because I farted.

I want to talk to you, you, you over there on the left, you wearing the bikini and you really should have waxed, and all of Slovenia: I'm taking a brief vacay from the blog. I won't be gone long. I promise. I know Slovenia depends on me for their entertainment.

I need to spend time improving my invitation to William and Harry. I took the informal approach with the first draft, thinking it would get their attention, but I don't know if it's such a good idea. I need to ponder, meditate, and all that, before I decide on the perfect invitation to the royal cousins. NO, they aren't cousins, dumb ass. They're brothers. If you read my blog you'd know they are my kids' cousins.

While I'm gone, please consider giving some earlier posts of mine a chance. You might try

HICCUPS AND WATERBOARDING

I SAW MY DAD EMBARRASSED - ONCE

CHARLOTTE A. MARTIN: THIS JOURNEY . . . I BELIEVE

MR. ROGERS DID NOT WEAR A SWEATER TO COVER UP HIS 

ME 'N MY GEE PEE ESS

AND SUMMER WILL NOT COME AGAIN

HELLO - IS IT ME YOU'RE LOOKING FOR?


By the by, I watched Barney's Version, relatively new to DVD. Watch it; don't watch it. It's up to you. I'm tired of Paul Giamatti's hangdog look. However, Minnie Driver is a revelation in hilarity as -- dare I say it? -- a JAP. Being a LAP myself (Lutheran American Princess), I'm wary of these stereotypes.

Infinities of love and independence,

Lola

P.S. My Dear Mrs. Tuna, Please do not read "And Summer Will Not Come Again." The dog died. It happens every fucking time.

DOG 1 SQUIRREL 0

Gentle Readers,

Last night I was sitting at the computer when I heard THUD outside. Knowing that my silky soft bad boy collie was in the back yard alone, I figured I'd better check on him.

And there he was, standing over a poor pathetic little squirrel that must have made the thud when he was taken down. I told Naughty Child to "Come" and "Leave It". He turned away for just a moment and then turned right back and gave Mr. Squirrel a good shaking meant to teach him a lesson.

I could see the squirrel was still alive, though barely twitching. Bad Boy and I then got into an argument that eventually led me down the steps of the deck to have a serious talk with him.

He finally obeyed and scurried into the house. I hoped the squirrel would somehow rouse himself and crawl out under the gate, but a few minutes later he was one dead squirrel, beady little eyes staring but not seeing, and I used my pooper scooper to get him into a garbage bag so someone wouldn't carry him into the house and deposit him on my lap as a gift.

I made some noises of disgust as I scooped squirrel, but I didn't cry. This type of thing was once upon a time a husbandly job, but I did it, and I didn't scream or cry.

I sent my son a text telling him about it and asking if I should save the squirrel and prepare a hearty stew for him. He said, "Sounds great." Maybe he'll give up being a vegetarian when he's faced with the happy prospect of succulent squirrel.

One of my sisters was awakened one night when her dog put a dead squirrel in bed with her. That's why I don't have a doggie door. My neighbor said her dog brought a deceased squirrel in and put it on a pillow. I guess the dog thought the squirrel deserved a nice rest.

The strange thing about squirrels here is that they aren't very big. They are surprisingly skinny.

I do believe the rats are larger.

Good night and good morning.

Love,

D F W