Assorted Nonsense

First things first: Happy Lips Appreciation Day (a day early....the opposite of procrastination, I believe, is the tendency to bounce in one's chair impatiently while failing miserably to wait for something in a mature fashion). My reasoning (if I have any, which is questionable) is either that many of you will not be reading this until tomorrow, or that I spaced out which day was which and had already downloaded the picture and was too lazy to change it. If you're a betting soul, place money on the latter.

Second things second: Ang, you asked the other day if I live way far away from the college and if that's why I get up at 5:00am on school days. I actually live about 20 minutes from school, but I exercise for an hour every morning due to my ass's unfortunate tendency to disguise itself as a barn if I don't. It's really quite a cunning disguise--everything but the chickens (which is good...cause who wants a chicken butt?)--and yet, I quash it. Truly, I am the enemy of body part creativity.

I would like to say that I'm one of those hard-body types who drink protein shakes and pump iron and have little etched shadows all over where their muscles show up....but I'm afraid one of you might hurt yourselves laughing at that one, and rightly so. The reality is me stumbling out of bed and into a pair of old flannel boxers and a stretched out jog bra, a t-shirt that will likely be inside out, and a pair of socks, and then installing myself on one of our exercise machines with a blank look on my face until my legs give out, my heart stops, or the news on TV stops being interesting (the real exercise buffs will tell you that watching TV while exercising is wimpy and takes away from the workout; I say that I'm older and more cunning than they are and they can just tell me that to my old, weary face any time they think they're tough enough). Sometimes I unravel thrift store sweaters while I exercise, but learn from my mistakes if you're considering this. Seems that the sprockets on exercise bikes don't actually like mohair (which rather makes me wonder why it felt compelled to eat the stuff...but that's another story. A pink, fluffy, greasy, and terribly sad story.).

Monica is back at last, having finally ended her 20 days of tyranny and oppression by the little gremlins that live inside all computers (I failed computer science once...I'm not sure why, seeing as how I have such an obvious, razor-sharp grasp of their inner workings). Hi, Monica! Welcome back to cyberland. In your honor, I offer some cat porn.

Another one of Miss, our own personal egg on stilts (seriously, she has a round little body and toothpick legs and the vet assures us she's quite healthy--just funny looking...which I'm pretty sure isn't a REAL medical term). She looks quite deep and mysterious here...but I can assure you that she's almost certainly thinking something along the lines of "chair soft. chair good. mmmmm." Not the brightest spark, our little stilted egg.

I know, though, that you're waiting for Ed, so here you go--a veritable orgy of Edness:

Yes, I was lying on the floor with my cat. Trust me when I say you are no more puzzled by this behavior than he was.

I like to kid myself that he's nestling his head against mine affectionately, and not actually laying it down in disgust because his humans are so impossibly strange. It's not like he can tell anyone any different, right?

While I'm here, I'd also like to make note of a strange burglar that seems to be visiting our home. He doesn't take anything, so I'm inclined to think it's some sort of strange fixation (the mental health issue--not the stretchy sock yarn from Cascade). Indeed, since Mr. K assures me that he always empties out his Pepsi cans prior to leaving them for me to take to the recycling bin, and since I dumped a third of a can of the stuff down my Seahawks fuzzy pants this morning on the way to said recycling bin (which, by the way, I feel certain will have a negative impact on my cheering ability...someone has a lot to answer for if the upcoming season goes badly), it is clear that the burglar is actually pouring soda back into the empty cans while we sleep! Not only that, he also takes the bread out after Mr. K has conscientiously put it away, sprinkles crumbs all over the counter after Mr K cleans them up, and takes Mr. K's clothes from the dirty clothes hamper to spread maliciously around the room. A right little git, this burglar. I haven't caught him in the act...but who else could it be? I can't think of a single other soul who would watch Mr. K put fresh towels out and then take them and put them right back in the linen closet so that I have to run down the hall wet and naked to get one.

Well, okay. Mr. K might get something out of that one.....

Do any of you have a burglar like mine? Could it be some sort of strange crime spree? I think we should all be very careful.

Thought for the day, courtesy Robert Heinlein, and appropriate for the upcoming chocolate week: "All things in moderation....including moderation."