Bunch o’ Crap

There’s a few topics kickin’ around in the ol’ noggin this morning, so let’s dive on in, shall we?

1.  I had my first visit with the physical therapist yesterday, and I thought all she did was wangle my joints around and tell me I’m a mutant… but I must have blacked out and forgotten the part where she took me out in the parking lot and ran me over with her car!  My shit HURTS, yo!  Hopefully it will get better with time.

2.  You know you’ve found “the one,” when you call up your significant other to ask if it’s a good idea to write “OogHiq MikhTaag” on your feet before physical therapy, and before you even translate it, he says “Do not write in Klingon on your feet.”

3.  Another point in Chuckweasel’s favor — he found my “Apocolist” (shopping list for Zombie Apocolypse survival supplies) and didn’t even bat an eye… even though it includes things like “Barter Items” and has obviously had WAAAAAY too much thought put into it. 

4.  I’ve spent the past few days frantically switching Callie Jean’s food around, trying to figure out why she keeps barfing… only to discover it wasn’t the food at all.  Seems one of her cat toys (presumably designed for cats, no?) has this silvery ribbony stuff on it… and, instead of playing with it, Mommy’s Lil’ Rhodes Scholar has been EATING IT.  And whucking it up.  I should sue the makers of that cat toy.  But then I’d have to admit my cat is… special.

That’s it for now!