Tag Archives: humor

If You Give a Cat a Lollipop…

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I still have leftover Halloween sweets/candy. Last night I was sitting in front of the fireplace, my Siamese boy Lokii on my lap (as always when fire is nearby), and I had a rare hankering for sugar. I displaced Lokii long enough to grab a Chupa Chup lollipop (or sucker, whatever you call ‘em) from the kitchen, and returned to warm our mutual arses in front of the lovely fire.

Lokii – being a feline stomach on legs – wanted to know what I kept sticking into my mouth. So I let him have a sniff.

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He was interested. The flavour was strawberries and cream, after all.

Most of us have heard that cats cannot taste sweet. So I wonder what, exactly, made him want my sucker so badly? What did he think it tasted like?

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Because he loved it.

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He looks like a demented Orc from the Lord of the Rings films.

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Nom nom nom!

The Man Who Talks to Cheese.

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Hubby has been cooking this evening. He’s now making dinner, but earlier it was a low-carb pumpkin bake thingie.

After his earlier effort, he is now well into his habit of talking to things that aren’t able to answer.

Shall I type up some of the nonsense he is saying? Yes, yes I will:

O M G, W T F, B B Q! (Yes he said each letter)

Well, I’m talking to chicken now, brilliant! (This is because I was teasing him about being the Man Who Talks to Cheese)

Nothing for cats! (He’s cutting up raw chicken; we give the good bits to the cats and whatever is left to the dog)

Spotty, watch your little paw, fucking hell cat! Spotty! Fucking hell dog-cat-whatever-your-name-is.

Not much for kitties but I’m working on it.

Shhh, I’m coming (whispered to Lokii who also never shuts up) shhh, bits for kitties… Shhh

Oh it’s gonna be less than…oh (garbled) seven minutes…it’s okay. Shhh, coming. (I think this means he heard me light a smoke, which takes me 7 minutes to finish. It was oddly silent so he could hear the lighter spark)

Just wait, alright? Coming. (To Lokii, again) shhh.

Spotty watch your little paw, I’m cutting stuff. Heeeeeeeeee. (Very unmanly giggle)

Fuk fuckit.

That’s my fucking hand, you idiot! Sure didn’t the baby Jesus tell you not to bite the hand that feeds you? Sure no he didn’t.

More for cats, nearly gone…

Alright Spotty that’s it, I’m not going through all this goop. A little more. Oh, Spotty! You want more? That’s it, that’s it. (Calling for the dog) Neko! Oh Spotty you want more? There is no more! Here take that, for fuck’s sake cat! Here.

I’m not spending the evening cutting up human food for cats! Okay Mrs (me), any time you are ready! (Because I’m in charge of the sauce part)

Hope you enjoyed a little glimpse into what it is like to live with a man who talks CONSTANTLY.

Love you anyway, iDJ!

Scaranoctupus

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My summer-fruiting raspberries are now enjoying their second year in my garden, and we are enjoying them, too.

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I’ve been picking at least this many every morning. They don’t last past noon, so no chance of me having enough to cook with. We don’t care – they are too tasty to resist!

The birds can’t resist them either. The wee finches and sparrows and tits leave them alone. As do the giant crows and rooks and ravens. It’s the middle sized birds that found my bounty – starlings.

Luckily for me, the day they started to ripen I was asleep on the couch downstairs, just a few meters from the back door (sliding glass type). Spottie cat the mighty hunter saw the robbers and set up the alarum. Okay, actually? He went ‘mehmehmehmeh! ikikikikik!’ at them, and that woke me up. He did sound a bit different though, so I got up to see.

Dammit! I never thought I’d have bird troubles, and had no netting or anything else handy at 4:30 am to keep them away.

But I’m a quick thinker, and came up with a solution instantly. All I had to do was get my bare feet wet in the dew, and the problem was solved!

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Neko will just have to live without her huge octopus until the growing season is over.

Who the Hell Puns in their Sleep?!?!

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Me.

I do.

I’ve not been sleeping well lately. More accurately, I’ve not been sleeping for long periods in the morning but I do have loads of REM sleep, complete with weird dreams.

Last week I again dreamt that I was a man, and it was perfectly normal in the dream. Forget the details now, as you do, but I remember noting that I wasn’t even me in the dream.

This morning, I was the interviewer for a TV documentary on a famous person. I wish it was someone real, but I don’t think it was. It was a man, and rather heavy-set and intelligent. I think he was an actor. Much like the amazing Stephen Fry, but it wasn’t him. I was there to document his unusual hobby, which was candle-making.

In dream space, there was lots of time doing camera angles, set up, questions, etc. It went on for a while, perfectly normal – as if I have a clue what being a TV interviewer entails.

Eventually, cameras rolling, a young man walks in. The star stops and says, “Oh, I’d like you to meet my assistant. He’s been invaluable. This is Chandler.”

I woke up immediately, laughing out loud.

Ugh.

The Pork I Buy lately looks… Odd.

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I think I’ll just leave this one as photos. Sorry Sled, I know you don’t eat meat. Maybe this is why not…

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Last week, my dinner…

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This week.

I think I need to start buying my pork loin elsewhere…

Bad jokes and puns strongly encouraged!

Heat Your Home! Now! For Cheap! letmetellyahow!

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Have a back boiler? Have a VERY dead Christmas tree? Heat your whole house in minutes with dead tree twigs! Yes! You too can escape the low temperatures by burning the shit out of that dead thing you paid good money for! Just trim here, trim there, and toss onto your already-glowing coals! It couldn’t be easier. Call now!*

*Pleasenotethat’heat’requireskeepinganannoyingneedledroppingPOStreeinyourhouse,blockingthemainwindow,wellintoJanuary. Notresponsibleforpointy-assneedlesbeingdistributedallthroughoutyourdamnhouse.

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Happy Christmas!

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We settled in to take our annual awkward family pet portraits last night, when suddenly the doorbell rang. We answered to find my Canadian friend, bearing homemade cookies and her greyhound, Rua. After I wiped off the blood (I’d been holding Lokii and he doesn’t take well to Neko’s loud reaction to the doorbell), had a chat with our friend and let Rua have a sniff around the house, it was no longer an option to take the photos. Primarily because all we found of Lokii for the next two hours was his costume, abandoned on the floor. He might not be very bright, but he can strip!

Spottie, however, didn’t seem to mind any of it, and was still wandering around wearing his little coat and fuzzy collar. So hubby took a few pics of just me and Spot.

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My favourite one.

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Tempting him stay with a treat.

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Tongue!

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Neko wanted to wish you all happy holidays, too!

The Ugliest T-Shirt Ever

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Before we went out Saturday night, drinkin’, hubby was looking for his “Halloween shirt” to wear. I had no idea what he was talking about.

“It’s orange! Not really Halloween, but it’s orange. Close enough.”

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I bought this at a thrift shop in Cleveland, Ohio, probably for .59 cents. It appears to be a corporation’s (Flood, whatever that is/was) attempt at team building. It is the ugliest thing I have ever seen – and I had to get it for my future hubby when I saw it. He loves this sort of tacky crap. I still can’t wrap my head around the truly terrible and terrifying artwork – that woman might have (slightly misplaced) muscles, but she’s going to have a really bad back if she stays all twisted up like that. I mentally try to turn her body so she is in proper perspective. Her poor left arm! It’s only about 2 foot long and is springing out of her neck!

And the man? Neck wider than head, thighs nearly wider than his waist. His grimace looks demonic. Maybe it is a Halloween shirt after all.

Greenery and perhaps a Giggle

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Hi, howrya? Please read that in the Mayo accent in which I would say it. I must apologise to all the bloggers I follow: I can’t seem to be able to comprehend very much, my concentration is terrible, and my sense of humour has nearly deserted me (when is the last time I tagged something as humour/humor? It’s been yonks). I do read everyone’s blog, but I can’t seem to summon up much in the way of a response. Sorry, I hate being like this.

What seems to be working for me is visuals. So! More photos. I did a walk through town last time. I’ve taken more shots in town, but I think we’ll go back to purdy flors again. Please read that in the NW Florida/southern Alabama accent in which I would say it.

First photo is a crappy iPad one. But, it is my mystery plant, and the mystery is now solved! First I have to give a shout out to the fabulous website, Shoot, and its plant finder. It didn’t take much time at all to get to the eureka moment and find the answer to what I’ve been wondering for weeks.

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Please meet my Mimulus! There are about 150 species and I didn’t have the patience to figure out which one I have. Or is that which ones, as there are three different colour blooms? Common name is ‘monkey flower,’ but I have no idea why.

The rest of my pics are taken on the new fancy-pants camera. Did I mention that it requires you to look through the viewfinder? And actually turn the lens to focus? It has a lovely big screen, like a digital cam should, but since I have to put my eye up to the little hole, the screen is always smeared with nose grease. That’s when my schnozzola isn’t pressing the menu button and changing the settings. Oh! Here’s a picture of the camera itself. I took it for a walk a few weeks ago. No pictures, because the battery, unknown to me, was dead. So I took a pic with my iPhone of the heavy-ass camera I took for a walk, in a bag on my shoulder, like an expensive pampered chihuahua. I thought I should take a pic of it just to memorialise the first time I took it out, since it didn’t bloody well work and I had no other way to record the day’s events. Yes, I stuck it on a stone wall in a cow field. Damn thing.

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Okay NOW the rest of the pics are by the pretty Nikon.

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Phlox, Phlox, Phlox, Phlox! My other mystery solved. I don’t remember planting this stuff but I have oodles. Really, oodles. Must have been one of those late plantings where I shrugged and said, ‘ah, who gives a phlox?’ It smells heavenly, and every flower seems to be a different colour. Sadly the bees don’t seem to know what to do with it. I have no idea what happens next, as phlox is a biennial and I don’t have any other biennials in my garden. We will see! But if I have to plant again, I will certainly put in fewer seeds. I have this stuff everywhere now. Not that I mind, of course.

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My leggy irises. They are already starting to fade, boo. But I love that second bloom, it has white streaks on it when none of the others do. Have I created a mutant?

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The weed! I love it. Screw the neighbours and their store-bought plug plants. Weeds are pretty too, and free!

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This is a Houttuynia cordata ‘pied piper.’ We, um, kind of stole it from the church’s badly-cared-for gravel ‘landscaped’ parking lot. It’s in a pot and usually lives indoors – but I’ve seen a local garden where it has rather naturalised. I put it outside early this year and it is so very happy. I wish the colours were true to life – they aren’t, even after some tweaking using Perfectly Clear. That one leaf at bottom slightly to the left is amazingly bright! I couldn’t get fancy-pants camera to focus on just that leaf like I wanted it to. Maybe I should read the manual. Hahahah.

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Californian poppies! These are blooms on the plants that survived the winter here – I never thought that something with ‘Californian’ in the name could survive so well here. But they seem to be slug-proof and the seeds are numerous and very viable. I’ll have these for the rest of my life, I think!

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I’ll wrap up with my broad beans, I’ve never grown these before, and I’m astounded with how beautiful the flowers are. I had the most difficult time getting these photos. Nothing looked in focus, and I just couldn’t seem to capture that pale pink blush at the base of each flower. It shouted at me, that pink, when looking at the blooms. But it was so shy and didn’t want to be caught.

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The bees love them, too.

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