Sources.

Um. So.

Writey write.

My week has been inexplicably boring, except for that one time where I got a little obsessed with the news and fringe American politics. I couldn't help it, though: I watched network news. You dummy, Self! The pulsating pile of bullshit that feeds on itself and spews horrors and scandal at my fragile mind. It took me days to settle down over it.

I've had to periodically quit the news, you guys. It ruins my mental health and I start to think about fashioning an aluminium foil do-rag to keep the governments out. (I also feel compelled to force you to pronounce it AL-ew-MIN-ee-əm and not A-loo-minum in case you don't already.Trust me, you'll sound way more impressive at all the parties you attend when you're not blogging.)

"Why, Mrs Hilton, are those AL-ew-MIN-ee-əm chaise loungers I see? Why I just ADORE AL-ew-MIN-ee-əm and these AL-ew-MIN-ee-əm breezers are just to DIE for!"

She'd be pretty impressed that you noticed.

I'm not crazy. YOU Are.

Anyhow, I've had the sound mental faculty to shut it off and continue to just receive my current events from my neighbor, Lawrence who periodically strolls by with information on the whereabouts & social encounters of my cat , Fluffy Sparkles (entertainment news) and also through my 4th grader who filters information to me through her classmates' secret underground ring of knowledge (current-ish events). Really, what more do I need?



Did you know that Hitler chewed off his own arms? I heard it through my news sources. Also, Fluffy Sparkles was spotted consorting with the other neighbor's cat, Charlie (AGAIN!!). That Charlie is out of control if you ask me.

Dear Oozing, Gum-Chewing Eyelids of Mine,

Your timing couldn't be more exemplary: Halloween! What a wonderful time to have conjunctivitis. It's very festive to go around seeing the world in a cloudy haze. You can all go ahead and turn off your expensive fog machines, now (unless you have one of those cool ones that also makes maniacal laughing sounds... BWaHahAHHaaA! You leave that bad boy on ALL YEAR, you hear me?). All you have to do is simply touch your eyeball to my eyeball and watch the thin string of slime that connects us in conjunctive matrimony as it stretches between our mutual gaze- and then in a few short hours, you'll get the very same, all natural visual effect. I will be starting a pink eye selling stand at the end of my driveway later this afternoon, when all the kids are walking home from school. Or maybe I'll hand out pink eye instead of Halloween treats. Who knows? Heaven knows, I'm full of money saving ideas these days.

What was really fun, though, was when I took 3 kids to the dentist yesterday, not fully realizing that I actually looked like someone had lubricated my eyeballs in vanilla pudding (HA. You'll never eat pudding again. This is great for your diet). They were fine when I left, I swear- perhaps a titch itchy but that can be easily blamed on the kitten (like most things that go wrong in my life. Damn you, kitten, for messing with my taxes!!). By the time I arrived, I looked like a viral monkey.


Now whenever I want to bat my eyelashes at the imaginary pool boy or a Canadian celebrity, such as Rick Mercer, I'll have to put on some kind of germ proof barrier, or wear one of those ducky yellow suits that Dustin Hoffman wore in Outbreak. Then maybe a hole will be accidentally punctured in the suit, leaving everyone vulnerable, as I lean over the hospital bed in despair as Rene Russo dies. I hope you're happy, Conjunctivitis. I hope you're reeeeeal happy.

Love Michelle.

Some things.

1. If I do not see Zombieland straight away, I might lose the ability to breathe. Zombies AND rollercoasters??? *heave* My only issue is that they did not make it in 3D. This must be remedied, You hear me, Columbia Pictures??? Hop to it. I'll be waiting with my 3D glasses on.
2. I love froot loops so very much.
3. My ipod touch is taking way too long to update. Blast!! It is also not allowing me to use my itunes giftcard. I have $14.01 in riches to fritter away spend on important business application upgrades and such. *UPDATE* after reading the stupid fine print on the stupid giftcard, I've found out that I can't buy applications with it. I feel irrationally angry about this.
4. The Lovesong of J.Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot still makes me weep like a little pantywaist (which technically I am, seeing as I always wear them. Ladies do). It also makes me want to roll up my trousers (and start calling pants, 'trousers'... or start calling panties, 'trouserettes' because hey- awesome new word. That would make me a trouserettewaist, which sounds a little like tourette's. Tourette'swaist sounds edgier.. like don't mess with THAT chick. See what I'm talking about? No Self, don't delete that last bit. It was solid blogging gold!). It also makes me want to paint the cat yellow.

ThE FiRsT InsTaLLmeNt oF............... Dial Meow for Murder.

Episode: Things Fluffy-Sparkles the Cat has massacred on my property.

I say first installment, because we usually get maybe one day per week off from walking outside and nearly stepping on the corpse of some poor little creature. I would like to drive home the fact, straight away that my yard is roughly the size of a generous postage stamp. Each day, the kids skip happily outside and without fail, they declare the death of yet another cute little snow white movie extra, like frolicking little coroners.

"Whatcha playin', kids?!? Looks FuUUuuun!"
"We're playing the I jumped over it and you ate it game!"
"Oh how creativvvv---AUGH!!!!! NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. Dead animals are NOT hackey sacks!! GET in here so I can dunk you in antibacterial wash... do you feel swine-fluish? How about Bird Fluish? Rabid? When did we get a raccoon skin hat???"

On with the graphic, sadistic, macabre photographic evidence:

Yeah, that's our welcome mat. I suppose we have this coming.

That's a wee mouse's arse end, displayed on the skull & cross bones. This might be nice stuffed and mounted in a teeny tiny living room with a teeny tiny fireplace and little teeny wing chairs. Maybe I'll surprise Libby with a new feature for her barbie house.

Poor Dudes. I was only kidding when I was talking about a Vlad the Impaleresque display on my lawn to scare off the noisy spring birds, I SWEAR. Althouuuuugh......

Not pictured:
*The dead mother mouse' head, surrounded in a semi circle by her little pink babies. Like a dead-mouse-family flower mosaic.

*The head of the mouse who's arse is shown, which was on the back step instead of the front.

She's a very creative kitty.