Saturday, February 2, 42 A.B.
Looking For Mr. Goodhog
It's now almost 8pm and there's still NO sign of the woodchuck of my dreams. I don't understand it. He was here last summer, gaily frolicking in my back yard on an almost daily basis. Where is he now, on this, his Day of Days??
Did I adorn my house with the wrong color balloons? Does he have an irrational fear of party hats? Is he finding it as difficult to leave his bed after discovering that Rosie O'Donnell is a lesbian as so many of my male friends are? Is he even thinking about offing himself as so many of my lesbian friends are??
I can only hope for the best and hope that the aroma of the following blather tidbits will seep into his hole and lure him to me!
A Tale Of Two Razors
I did it. I went out and bought a Remington micro-screen electric razor for $20 instead of getting new blades for my old triple-head Norelco for $30. And I somehow resisted telling the store how silly they were to be selling an entire razor for less than the replacement blades for another when I did so. Does that make me an immoral person, able and willing to take advantage of the ignorant and retarded? Oh, well. At least I'm an immoral person with a baby-butt smooth face now.
Not that getting a new razor has solved all my problems. Oh, not at all. Although my cheeks and chin just LOVE my new Remington, my neck steadfastly refuses to have anything to do with it. No matter how many times I draw it over the skin below my jaw line, the stubble there resists and persists. Apparently it took a vow to only give itself to my Norelco and nothing I say or do will sway it from that commitment. Alas, what's noble in a soldier, wife, or dog merely makes more work for me when it involves my body's follicular produce. Whereas I used to be able to shave in five minutes using one razor, it now takes me at least seven using two. And that's not counting the extra time I must now spend cleaning and lubricating two completely different sets of cutters.
Ack! Is it possible that Mr. G. has heard all this shaving going on and was afraid I might merely be getting ready to relieve him of his fur?? Doesn't he know that I learned my lesson long ago when I first tried to shave my cat???
BRB - Gotta go hide my razors in a bottom dresser drawer and then arrange my outside Groundhog's Day lights so that they spell out 'Shaver-Free Zone!'
The Case Of The Bespectacled Babes
Did you see that story on ABC's World News Tonight a couple days ago? The one about how more and more opticians are selling eyeglasses to babies?? Exactly how good does your eyesight need to be to find either of two breasts the size of your head??? Most men I know have no trouble at all spotting one up to a mile away no matter how myopic they may be. The idea that a baby might need help while being cradled in its mother's arms boggles the mind. And it would seem that babies need even less help finding a diaper to pee or poop in when the diaper tends to be pre-positioned in such a way that even I always enjoyed success with my eyes closed. As for drooling and spitting up - well, even with glasses I tend to mess those up to this day, so what's the point? I can only conclude that lots of parents and opticians think that crying babies need glasses in order to make sure that their tears actually make it to their cheeks - which is, of course, ridiculous. So what if an infant's tears actually run down its nose instead? It's not as if all babies are Julia Roberts or someone else paid big bucks to cry right for the cameras.
How do they figure out what prescription lenses a baby needs, anyway? Do they plop the kid in the chair and keep flipping those little glass circles and asking "Is this better... or this?" until the kid learns to understand and speak English?? No wonder I spent so many days in the waiting room last time I needed some new bi-focals!
If I ever choose to reproduce, you can bet your life savings that MY kid won't be seen wearing glasses before he or she is school age. No, sir - it'll be a stylish monocle or nothing at all!
I mean, glasses just look silly when worn with top hat and cane - don't you think?
Special Report
According to a story carried by Reuters yesterday, researchers have discovered that more people commit suicide on sunny days than on cloudy ones. Half the article detailed the evidence that's accumulated from 20 countries over a period of 4 years which led to this conclusion, and half speculated about why this might be. My guess: On sunny days, people can better see what they're trying to do.
Duh!
There's No Limit To What A Man Can Accomplish If He Doesn't Care What Primate Gets The Credit
I forgot to mention this yesterday but NASA chimps such as Ham didn't just show us that we could shoot John Glenn into space without getting charged with manslaughter. They also showed us that a chimp kept motionless in solitary confinement for 14 days actually does better on certain tests after he's released than he did before his confinement.
The next time a president or anyone else asks you for suggestions as to how we can boost American teenagers's SAT scores, please be sure to bring this up.
New Bug Of The Month!
Ok, I've written all the above blather and Mr. Groundhog STILL hasn't been attracted to my home. Time to bring out the REALLY aromatic blather. Time to mention the NEW Bug of the Month.
It was a close contest with MANY recounts, fistfights, and lawsuits, but the winner for February is - the silverfish! YAY!
If for any reason the silverfish is unable to fulfill all its responsibilities as Bug of the Month - well, I'm not sure what they'll do. Force January's grain beetles to stay on without any extra compensation, I suppose, while ordering the band to play loud Sousa marches so we can't hear the grain beetles' agent throwing a fit.
Which gives me an idea...!
Why Can't It Be Groundhog Day EVERY Day Of The Year??
I've just checked the U.S. Constitution.
I've just talked to a friend who used to work for the U.S. Dept. of Labor.
I've even read Ann Lander's column for the day for the first time in over 6 years.
Turns out there's NOTHING to prevent us from celebrating the existence of any mammal as often as we damn please!
Well, so long as it doesn't involve illegal aliens or children under the age of 16.
And as long as we agree to seek counseling if our spouse thinks it's starting to hurt his or her sex life.
Bottom line, Mr. G: If you can't make it today, don't sweat it. The champagne will keep until you can!
*HUGS* & *KISSES* until then.
And, uh, don't fall asleep in any holes I wouldn't - K?
*Insert Sly Boyish Grin Here*
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(©Now by DJ Birtcher after putting up a few more outdoor lights
and making them spell out "Official Fur Face Sanctuary!")
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If you don't have a sly boyish grin to insert, feel free to use this one. It isn't quite what I had in mind, but any grin will do in a pinch, I always say....
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