I'm not feeling too good today. I haven't eaten anything at all, not even breakfast, and I've spent the entire day under the sofa, hiding from mouse spirits. Every now and again I see one of these mouse spirits and I chase it, only to realise it doesn't really exist, then I hide underneath the sofa again. I feel queasy and faint.
Oh dear lord catgod, if I promise not to kill any more mice, will you ask the spirits to leave me alone?
Showing posts with label confused. Show all posts
Showing posts with label confused. Show all posts
Sunday, 24 February 2008
Sunday, 17 February 2008
The irrational rodent protection society
Ellen is such an idiot. I mean, it's a good thing that I can catch mice, yes? To see her screech and yell at me, you'd think she wants a mouse infestation or something.
Get this. I catch her a perfectly good mouse. Okay, so it turns out not to be dead yet, but she dispenses with it anyway.
So then I go and get her another one. She walks in the door and literally screams. What's that about? Then she proceeds to rescue the mouse (which is not so far gone as the first one). She puts it in a shoebox with some water.
Now she has the nerve to ask me what to do with the mouse? Well, doh! It's not my fault she's completely irrational and is now protecting rodents. The mouse is still alive more than 24 hours later (I think she was hoping it would die) and I am left contemplating the shoebox (which is currently on top of the washing machine -- don't think I don't know exactly where it is!). She's even given it some food now!
This is completely imbecilic and irrational behaviour. It's giving me an identity crisis. I mean, I am supposed to kill rodents, aren't I? This is going to extend my need for therapy.
Get this. I catch her a perfectly good mouse. Okay, so it turns out not to be dead yet, but she dispenses with it anyway.
So then I go and get her another one. She walks in the door and literally screams. What's that about? Then she proceeds to rescue the mouse (which is not so far gone as the first one). She puts it in a shoebox with some water.
Now she has the nerve to ask me what to do with the mouse? Well, doh! It's not my fault she's completely irrational and is now protecting rodents. The mouse is still alive more than 24 hours later (I think she was hoping it would die) and I am left contemplating the shoebox (which is currently on top of the washing machine -- don't think I don't know exactly where it is!). She's even given it some food now!
This is completely imbecilic and irrational behaviour. It's giving me an identity crisis. I mean, I am supposed to kill rodents, aren't I? This is going to extend my need for therapy.
Friday, 18 May 2007
Bits of bright plastic
The strangest thing happened tonight. Ellen had a bunch of friends over, plus a lady I didn't know, and they sat about staring and oogling at pieces of brightly coloured plastic.
Every so often one of her friends would pick up one of these vibrant objects, stroke it reverantly, peer at it from all sides, then put it down again. It was like they were worshipping at a temple or something.
I have absolutely no idea what was going on.
Every so often one of her friends would pick up one of these vibrant objects, stroke it reverantly, peer at it from all sides, then put it down again. It was like they were worshipping at a temple or something.
I have absolutely no idea what was going on.
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