Friday, Dec. 21, 2001
Dear Diary: I think we can all agree that there are few things more festive than the sight of a cat with Christmas tinsel hanging out of its butt, eh. Yes, it's that time of year again; the time of year when the spousal unit and I put up the Christmas tree, decorate it, cover it with tinsel and then spend the rest of the holidays trying to keep my cat, Zo�, from eating mass quantities of tinsel. It never works. The cat just waits until we're out of the house or until we're asleep, and then she chows down on the glittery goodness. And since we all know that what goes in must come out, at some point during the Christmas season either a) I will be cleaning festive glitter poops out of the kitty litter or (There was one year when not only was she trailing tinsel, but at the end of the tinsel was a small, hard round turd giving rise to many truly gross Christmas sleigh jokes before we snipped the offending tinsel off.) Hey, I live in the country. I get my humour where I can, eh. We have tried putting up a tinsel free tree, but that causes other problems. The cat then decides to "taste" various and sundry decorations. I figure that under those conditions, it's just a matter of time before she gnaws on a Christmas light and turns into feline flamb�e. Rather than experience that horror, we just let her produce disco doo doo. She's been doing it for over a decade, and frankly, now, it just wouldn't be Christmas without her festive feces. Oh, be quiet. --Marn
Want to delve into my sordid past? She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 - .:Adventures In Oz:. .:12% Beer:. .:Links:. .:Host:. .:Archives:.
This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine. Kids, don't try viewing this at home without Netscape 6 or IE 4.5+, a screen resolution of 800 X 600 and the font Mead Bold firmly ensconced on your hard drive. �2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you. |