My OperaCat Scratch Fever
Wednesday, June 28, 2006 6:11:46 PM
Well, I originally intended to exclude everyone including myself from this intrepid journal, but I couldn't help myself. I've turned all my access rights back on. My laptop just left for Alvin, Texas to be repaired after crashing and burning a couple of days ago. Everything I've accomplished on it since my hurrivacation has been destroyed. A back-up never crossed my wandering mind. I'm currently using a beat-up Dell from the turn of the century to check email, ect.
Last night, in a fit of heated rage, I gave myself a "punk rock" haircut. I grabbed my little squirrely pony-tail, and sawed the shit off with a pair of dull scissors, creating a layered "bob" cut. I laughed maniacally at my feminine "do" for about seven minutes before diving back back into my project reinvigorated. My head was tilted forward at a 45 degree angle
as I grabbed each curly lock, and eye-balling through a double mirror configuration proceeded
to destroy them all. My head is now cool and refreshed every waking minute. New Orleans heat does strange things to people.
Day before yesterday, I awoke at 2:30 to a screaming phone call.
Monique left her cat Pablo outside for the night. Around 2:25 am
she was awoken by dogs barking, followed by the blood-curdling howl of Pablo. She ran to the front door and opened it up just in time to hear another howl from the back yard. By the time she flung open the back door, it was too late. Three large dogs were tossing poor Pablo around like a ragdoll. She clapped and screamed as the dogs ran off.
Good ole' Big Skeasy. Tribes of abandoned mongrel dogs are having there way with peoples pets.
Pablo was a very likable character, and we were as thick as thieves.
He avoided me most of the time as he paced around the yard waiting for other neighborhood
cats to enter his domain. As soon as they crossed the line, a "cat-off" insued. Bristling backs
and whiny snarls. He was a loner, and his fighting prowess was seldom matched.
It took three dogs to take him down. The stuff of cat legend. He will be sorely missed.
We took him down to the mighty river, where many heroic souls have crossed over into the glory of forever, and gave him a pirates burial.
Last night, in a fit of heated rage, I gave myself a "punk rock" haircut. I grabbed my little squirrely pony-tail, and sawed the shit off with a pair of dull scissors, creating a layered "bob" cut. I laughed maniacally at my feminine "do" for about seven minutes before diving back back into my project reinvigorated. My head was tilted forward at a 45 degree angle
as I grabbed each curly lock, and eye-balling through a double mirror configuration proceeded
to destroy them all. My head is now cool and refreshed every waking minute. New Orleans heat does strange things to people.
Day before yesterday, I awoke at 2:30 to a screaming phone call.
Monique left her cat Pablo outside for the night. Around 2:25 am
she was awoken by dogs barking, followed by the blood-curdling howl of Pablo. She ran to the front door and opened it up just in time to hear another howl from the back yard. By the time she flung open the back door, it was too late. Three large dogs were tossing poor Pablo around like a ragdoll. She clapped and screamed as the dogs ran off.
Good ole' Big Skeasy. Tribes of abandoned mongrel dogs are having there way with peoples pets.
Pablo was a very likable character, and we were as thick as thieves.
He avoided me most of the time as he paced around the yard waiting for other neighborhood
cats to enter his domain. As soon as they crossed the line, a "cat-off" insued. Bristling backs
and whiny snarls. He was a loner, and his fighting prowess was seldom matched.
It took three dogs to take him down. The stuff of cat legend. He will be sorely missed.
We took him down to the mighty river, where many heroic souls have crossed over into the glory of forever, and gave him a pirates burial.
