Phew. Thank goodness Sassy is okay and being well looked after. Damage from street-swallowed stuff is one of my worst nightmares, Bartleby-wise. Which reminds me that I need to get some more canned pumpkin in the house.
Speaking of animals, but in a like-whoa way. I just stumbled on a tv show called Rebel Monkeys on Nat Geo, via hulu. OMG y'all, it's the worst case of anthropomorphic say what since Lancelot Link. No costumes but the implied intentions are curazy. It's basically the Sopranos for Macaques in Jaipur.
I can't tear my eyes away, but I'm squinting so hard, I'm afraid my face might freeze that way.
Must. Go. Clean!
I embrace my inner hipster!
Or, I would, but she's pulled away with a look of disdain. I guess she doesn't like being embraced.
So far, this week is not impressing me with its goodness and benevolence. Try harder, week.
Yeah, weeks that start with my crying at work are not good.
I was sort of offended when a friend said I was a hipster, but she didn't mean it in a derogatory way, whereas I have only ever heard the term used negatively. She just meant that I liked to wear ironic T-shirts and listen to indie bands. Does wearing Threadless and loving the Dresden Dolls make me a hipster?
BOOOO, Monday!
Although I am totally a hipster now that I'm on the Tumblr. I got one of those finger mustache tattoos over the weekend and everything.
Ugh Perkins, sending no-infection ~ma your way.
God, Perkins, way to not start your weekend right. Also, don't get infected anymore, okay? Even a little bit. (Also, you're so not making me want a port...you really need to sail through this adversity free FOR ME, understand?)
My sister keeps reminding me my mother reads my LJ. But surely she doesn't click on all the cut tags of boring-to-her stuff, right?
I call in a redo for this week. It's still early enough to fix things.
Thank god tumblr's not just me. I've been twitchy, and that's sad.
I suddenly have "Just another Tino Monday" in my head, to the tune of ... yeah, that. Do not want.
I'm glad Sass is resting well, Sparky. Poor little thing.
Perkins, no more infections!
