Mmmmboy!
Today, I woke up and it smelled like bacon. Maple bacon. Well, I don't usually get up until 1 p.m., so I was hungry. I walked into the living room to find that the Chairman had taken the bag of butterscotch chipits I set out to make muffins with this morning and dragged it (open) from the kitchen to the living room, leaving a trail of chipits in his wake. I imagine he thought it was a bag of cat treats. He didn't eat any of them though. Sucker!
Consequently, I no longer want muffins. I want maple bacon. So I have to go to the store. And it's storming. Which means I'm going to be lazy and go to the close store, which is expensive. Damn you, cat! I just picked him up and kissed him square on the nose as punishment. He hates that.
I should probably justify this purchasing of bacon with a long walk.
Dammit.
P.S. Paul F. Tompkins is hilarious. I'm listening to his bit about the Irish potato famine and KILLING MYSELF laughing.
"Ohhhh! My belly's all bloated and distended! I'm dyin! If only I had a potato! Ohhhh sweet baby Jaysus! Please make it rain potatoes! I'm dyin!"
"Why don't you have some corn?"
"I don't like corn!"
"Are you sure? You probably have never even tried it!"
"Ohhhh yes I have! I've tried corn! Remember at that wedding, they had corn that time? Not my favourite. That's all I'll say."
"You gotta do something. Just eat some corn!"
"See I've got a problem with textures. Some things feel weird in my mouth and corn's just gross to me. Forget it."
"Fine, why don't you just go ahead and starve to death."
"Ah, yeah! That's what I was doing before you had to interview me for your book about corn!"
His delivery and fake Irish accent is awesome.
Consequently, I no longer want muffins. I want maple bacon. So I have to go to the store. And it's storming. Which means I'm going to be lazy and go to the close store, which is expensive. Damn you, cat! I just picked him up and kissed him square on the nose as punishment. He hates that.
I should probably justify this purchasing of bacon with a long walk.
Dammit.
P.S. Paul F. Tompkins is hilarious. I'm listening to his bit about the Irish potato famine and KILLING MYSELF laughing.
"Ohhhh! My belly's all bloated and distended! I'm dyin! If only I had a potato! Ohhhh sweet baby Jaysus! Please make it rain potatoes! I'm dyin!"
"Why don't you have some corn?"
"I don't like corn!"
"Are you sure? You probably have never even tried it!"
"Ohhhh yes I have! I've tried corn! Remember at that wedding, they had corn that time? Not my favourite. That's all I'll say."
"You gotta do something. Just eat some corn!"
"See I've got a problem with textures. Some things feel weird in my mouth and corn's just gross to me. Forget it."
"Fine, why don't you just go ahead and starve to death."
"Ah, yeah! That's what I was doing before you had to interview me for your book about corn!"
His delivery and fake Irish accent is awesome.