Before we even get started, you should probably know I have a couple of posts over at Sprocket Ink this week. One’s about a zombie proof house. One’s about prostitutes. I’m nothing if not completely focused on journalistic integrity. CBS is going to be calling me any day now.
Come to think of it, the evening news could certainly benefit from a nightly ukulele segment, am I right?
In reality, I’m completely devoid of focus at the moment, journalistic or otherwise.
*stops to watch Batman drive by on his batcycle while honking*
Where were we?
*stops to watch ambulance pull up to drugstore across street*
*cat knocks glass of water into desktop computer*
*other cat simultaneously knocks ukulele from shelf onto floor*
I don’t know why I just can’t seem to follow a single train of thought to its conclusion.
*gets up to pee, steps in cat puke*
*firetruck joins ambulance*
Also? I have this song stuck in my head. Like that isn’t “slowly driving me insane.”
*wanders off into traffic*
Oh Gawd, stepping in cat puke is the WORST! I hope you weren’t in bare feet.
Right. About that. Are my feet supposed to be this swollen already?
It’s because you’re PREGNANT!
Or not, because this happens to me (not the cat puke, but the rest of it). Sometimes I get distracted mid-sentence and join a totally new conversation. I don’t think people like that about me. I should work on and then I said “No, he did not just call you a troll doll!”, but it’s true, red velvet cake is really hit-or-miss.
There’s nothing worse than bad red velvet. Unless Elvis is painted on it.
Wait, early (hot!) Elvis or late (gross) Elvis? Either way, that’d be a hard cake to cut.
I’m not in favor in cakes with people’s pictures on them, as a rule. Cannibalism is a bigger leap for us vegetarians.
Excuse me while I go heat up some fava beans and pour myself a glass of Chianti (Key-yan-tee).
Richard Marx is the audio equivalent of stepping in Cat puke.
Please accept my deepest apologies for doing anything that might have cause you to remember this song. Although, the girl in the video reminds me of a girl I made out with once in the late 80’s.
DISCLAIMER: Everything reminds me of a girl I made out with in the late 80’s.
The late 80’s were good to you. Time to embrace them.
If I could only find that Members Only jacket.
I wonder often how Mrs Prospect deals with all these 80’s chanteuses….
The answer to that question is “Not well”.
I hear you. I’m kinda having that kind of *sneezes*
…
Um… Wha?
Oh allergies! I forgot about allergies! Is that why my head is pounding?
I never click on the youtube songs, and yet this time I did. I was viciously returned to 1987, and honey, that was a bad hair time for me…
Also, congratulations on using the word ukulele (had to scroll back up to check the spelling) twice in one post. Personally I think that word doesn’t get enough air time.
Goint to read your post on prostitutes now!
Prostitutes armed with ukuleles!
I would have been more worried if you’d put a link to “Hazard”, that’s serial killer crazy music.
I must admit that I was kinda hoping it was about ‘zombie prostitutes’ but I was kinda excited about the possibility of having a house with a drawbridge, though I am really more of a moat girl.
Next week? Zombie prostitutes. I’m on it.
quick get me some uke so i can get the puke (cat and richard marx) out of my head!
30 minutes. Tops. But I didn’t practice much. Watch Mildred instead.
I completely adored Richard Marx. Wow. I just admitted that in public.
Lu calls what you’re having “pregnancy brain”. It’s subsided somewhat now that she’s in the seventh month. Mostly because the pain in her ribs keeps her completely grounded. I think that boy is getting very big inside her very small body. Thank the universe her ass got wider, it’s a good sign.
♥Spot