I think I have weaned myself from the Twilight thing, thanks in no small part to My thoughts on Twilight, let me show you them. I LOLed. I think it’s passed now. You can all be grateful; I know I am. Mr. T will no doubt give heartfelt thanks that he no longer has to discuss vampires with me.
My other internet timesuck that I forgot all about once The bOoks appeared: Surf The Channel. As you can tell by the link, I myself was watching my way through Weeds (a series which always seemed to be on at odd times or be taken off without notice). But you may watch whatever takes your fancy. It’s FINE. Really. I don’t mind. I DON’T.
(As an aside (which is basically this entire website, really) I have decided to leave my capitalization error up there because it reminds me of The Librarian.)
So how was your weekend? We braved Ikea this weekend (I know, what the fuck possesses me sometimes) to buy something to fit in the computer/sewing room and hold all my junk. We did this (note I am glossing over the Experience that is Ikea on any given weekend) and slid the flat pack (Part 1 of 2) into the back of the Hilux. I said, “Do I need to hold that?” as Mr. T let it go to get Part 2 of 2, and Part 1 fell over onto the internal wheel arch. And BENT. Oh god Ikea is only made of fibreboard oh god my brand new ELFSTRUNG or whatever is snapped in half before it is even out of the box. I hyperventilated all the way home, and had formulated elaborate plans on how I was going to disguise a large piece of furniture with a big break across its top. Once we opened it at home, I found to my intense relief that it had bent at some internal point where there was a gap, and nothing was damaged. But I could just see it, you know? This is exactly the sort of thing that happens to me: spending several hundred dollars on some piece of furniture that is basically made out of wet bracken and Nordic dog hair, and snapping it like a pencil before it’s even in my house. If it is going to happen, I WILL HAPPEN TO IT. Then Mr. T had to spend 1 hour 22 minutes putting it together (I timed him) with kittens trying to get into every nook and cranny. In the end I shut them in one of the cupboards. They were confused by the glass door. Maybe I won’t tell the Save a Dog people that part.
We also went to the Vic Market and bought protein: prawns, meat, and a snapper. My only criteria for seafood at the moment is that it has to be Australian, which means we eat hardly any at all because the supermarkets are full of Vietnamese fish and Chinese prawns. Anyway, Mr. T chopped the snapper’s head off and smoked it. It was delicious. This meant the Brown Dog got the fish head, and about five minutes after he ran outside with it (you don’t think I’d let him eat a fish head INSIDE, do you?) he was back at the back door howling with impatience to get back in. As I went to open the door I was yelling at him, “Where’s your head? You can’t have finished that head already? That’s the only head there is, don’t be expecting another head when you get back in here.” I then realised that I might have hit my Top 5 Surreal Conversations with Myself this week without even breaking a sweat.
PS. SHE SMELLS DELICIOUS. LIKE BACON. (I feel uncomfortable using quotes without attribution; you don’t need to go here, it is just catharsis for me.)
I am the Grey Cat, and I am very difficult to take photos of.