I AM A MAGNET FOR CROTCHETY OL BATS.
My great-aunt is recovering nicely from emergency bypass. Last night, we discussed her intense hatred for:
- Surgeons (INOVA Ffx, site of her last surgery)
- Food (Hospital, retirement community)
- Pills (Too many, too many colors, probably dying her organs green?)
- Clones (Nurses drawing excessive blood, probably making a clone of her in the nurses station)*
- Cat litter
- "Foreigners" (In general)
After my visit, (for which I have just been nominated for the prestigious Daughter of Millennium award, my mother is so thankful), I went and had eleventy Ravens at BP, and dem crunchy tots.
LJG was helpful to point out that 3 beers constitutes binge drinking (medical info totes courtesy Mom LJG, who you know stole it from 20/20.) K. showed pics of her niece in a velour jumpsuit bedecked with "SAWL RIVER SADDLE CLUB" or whatever embroidery, playing an autoharp like she was DJing at only the tightest New Haven club. I might (might) research kidnapping.
And then I drove home and tried to take photos of the Cavalia tents. While driving. PONYTENTS.
PS. My dog has learned a new trick. When we shoot him with a gun/finger and say bang, that is his un-PC cue to "play dead." Instead, he has learned to dramatically flip himself onto his back, stick his limbs straight out, and roll his eyes back til you only see the whites. It’s a combo of doggy seizure and rigor mortis, and it cracks my shit up, so I guess the original trick has failed but this is so much the better.
Next up I’m going to teach him to jump up and fold his paws together when I yell "AMEN BROTHER!"
* besides the dog, funniest things include an 85 year old woman ranting about clones.