Phew! Finally, a moment to catch my breath. She's been chasing me all over the house, and I was beginning to think I'd never get a--
--way...She's behind me, isn't she?
Hey, look! Look! I can do Snoopy doing a vulture! See? You watching? Watch me!
MOONDOGGIE: Pastor Fred
says in times of stress I should pray for strength to our dark lord Hello Kitty...
*Title supplied courtesy of Dr. Alice.
Awesome vulture. Good luck, Mooondogggie!
Poor Moondoggie. Stalked by a cat imitating a dog imitating a vulture! How meta! :)
Shadow is like Robert Downey, Jr.'s character in Tropic Thunder: "I'm the dude playin' the dude disguised as another dude!"
Except she's actually black.
Lessing asíde all tve Complex identity juggling above (which reminds me of a great Warner Brothers cartoon with 2 manipulative mice, a dog and a cat, which ends up with nobody sure WHAT they may or may not be)... anyway, leaving all that aside I want to say that I join Moondoggie in his willingness to follow Fred's spiritual advice, any time.
I'd also be interested in Fred's opinions on the upcoming political contest. I'm sure they would be temperate and carefully considered.
Shadow is fucking hilarious. And she does one helluvan accurate "Snoopy vulture," though James would put up some vicious competition, were he not suddenly jealous as hell of Penny, who, bless her heart, is STILL remarkably non-incapacitated by a swollen titty the size of my pinky finger. Lancing it didn't do diddly-shit, even when she attempted it HERSELF with her back toenail. She cried out last night, I hadda go get her and bring her into the half-empty bed (F.U. is still in the hospital), and James ain't buying it. Penny's never been clingy, but she's obviously in pain & needing extra attention, so he will have to deal. I gave her one of his prednisones, so I hope that it will help her heal until I can find my money and get her to a vet. For those of you not fortunate enough to be regularly assaulted by my frantic mass-e-mails, the Social Security Administration suddenly decided that I don't exist anymore, after I've been here in Hotel Hell all this time & forwarded all the relevant gubmint agencies back in OCTOBER. Ssoooo, THAT should be fun to get re-instituted, after Piyush Jindal deleted my food stamps on his way out the fucking door.
Anyway, keep a good thought for Penny's giant titty, picket your local SSA office when possible, and if anybody knows a good (free) lawyer, hook a bitch up, k?
And remind Moonie how lucky that he is to have a new female overlord again, 'cause without Riley, I'm sure that he was as lost as my pension or moreso. We all miss her terribly, and I'm sure, for y'all, that it's 1,000,000X worse, but obviously, Shadow was meant to be, and meant to be THERE, so tell Moonie to pop an Ativan, catch a well-needed nap, and then try to keep up. Give them both all my love, hugs & belly-scritches, k?
Ranty Aunty Annti
Skritches delivered as thou commandeth, Annti. And best wishes for a full recovery to Penny and the F.U.
Thank you, hon. Bless her heart, Penny's always been an affectionate indoor-kitteh-thrown-away type, but now she's fucking CLINGY. Like two giant shit-machine dogs weren't ENOUGH fun here @ Casa De Batshit (ALONE!), now I've got a tiny black furry TUMOR attached to my hip/leg/lap/gut/anywhere she can grab onto FOR HOURS ON-END. She's NEVER been THIS needy, and James has never experienced jealousy before, and it is NOT a pretty color on him.
Oh, and anybody know a good malpractice/win-me-a-HUMONGOUS-medical-corporation lawyer? 'Cause some undereducated snatches in that fishbowl of laziness on the 5th floor of a certain shithole HELLPITAL in Baton Rouge are due for a RUDE AWAKENING, and I'd rather it came through a lawyer than through the hollowpoints in the F.U.'s .38 snubnose. HATE that pistol, but the .357 that I was SUPPOSED to inherit was stolen by the PsychoCunt before his ashes were even cold. But fuck, the hollowpoints all go in the same size and come out LIKE A TREE TRUNK, so whatever works, baby, whatever works...
Keep an eye on the news, kids, if my friend the local D.A. can't dissuade me from going down there all hopped-up on lack-of-sleep and bleeding-gut-kicking-like-a-mule worry... He'd better text me back soon, or I'm going to drive all the way to his damned HOUSE... Don't worry: his daddy, a lifelong family friend and the mayor of what USED TO BE, before the KLAN took over the sheriff's office, Mayberry-On-Acid, well, Mr. Billy still has his bail-bond license, if I need to get bounced outta the klink. Funny OT, kinda: Judas Priest playing on the teevee in the other room, "BREAKING THE LAW, BREAKING THE LAW"!!! At least Rob Halford never over-enunciated like that bald fucktard in Quiet Riot...
(Don't wear a fucking cockney CABBIE'S HAT over your LONGER-THAN-CHER'S-WIGS ***PIECE*** AND THEN BITCH WHEN THE STUDIO HEADPHONES KEEP KNOCKING YOUR TOUP OFF!!!) Sorry, flashbacks... but at least, other than them being TOTALLY-SELF-OVERRATED LOSERS, they were relatively well-behaved in-studio, even if their gig BLEW CHUNKS and DIDN'T EVEN SELL OUT, IN A *DIVE* IN ***FAT CITY***!!!!!!!!! (aka, the suburban shit-hole that thought of itself as the Metairie "equivalent" of the Quarter, if you could a Circle-K, 3 titty bars, 4 disgustingly-filthy dive bars/"venues," and the worst Pantera "tribute" bands ON EARTH "the quarter." Those people still thought of ZEBRA as "relevant," not unlike one maniac @ 75mph across the Brooklyn Bridge one night...)
Doggie! Do. Not. Flick. The. Tail!
NO! Do NOT! Flick....ohcrap...
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