holly will be jealous. we have a challenge to her perennial win on our now infamous sport of midget sightings. me and derek saw a midget fat lady gypsy pirate. damn that she moved past us too quickly to get a photo! speaking of photos, derek should be putting up some from our latest mini-trip very soon, including some parade pictures.
more parades should be during the nighttime. we went to the starlight parade in portland last night, where we saw the aforementioned midget, and greatly enjoyed seeing lots of tubas decked out in glowy string stuff. it was definitely much better than sweating and stinking through a parade held at high noon while the sun is blinding us all and the dogs in the parade (and i mean literal dogs - not like just stinky weirdos or anything) look like they're going to expire. no one wants to see that.
did you know that they sell pet insurance with a "self-mutilation" clause? people really must be screwing up their pets these days to give them so much anxiety that they hurt themselves to get attention. ugh. listen to your pets before they wig out on you.
what do i wear on wednesday? what do i wear?!?! it's coming down to the wire on the police and it's almost time to start freaking out. no no no, i won't do it. wait a second. hell yeah, i sure will. freaking out!
speaking of losing my mind... we went house hunting while we were driving around this weekend. poor derek drove endlessly while i spied for any hint of a for sale sign everywhere we went. it was like being in real estate prison. this must be what it's like to have that baby fever feeling when your biological clock is ticking, only we're not having any babies. we're just driving. and driving. and we're beat. can i just come live with you?
wow. i think my voodoo donut high is starting to wear off. mmmm, mango jelly with tang on top is just what i needed to start my day.
what i googled this week:
best alternative songs 1987
it hit me while i was listening to an old book of love album that 1987 was the year i started going out clubbing in the afterhours. am i really this old? is my music really this old? is that a dumb question considering the concert this week?
2 comments:
I had a parakeet once that got stressed and plucked all the feathers off his chest. It was really embarrassing. Everyone kept accusing me of torturing him. I seriously considered making him a little vest to wear until the feathers grew back.
my goodness, is it possible for an animal to get stressed out over being treated too WELL? maybe he was a catholic parakeet and was suffering from guilt over the great conditions for all the pets in your house.
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