sweasel.com

yeah, but remember that you have to blog on the left side of the road.

Bloody good!

Will you be stopping at the Korova Milk Bar? It’ll sharpen you up for a bit of the ultrablogginess.

Tell everybody that your droogs say “Howdy!”

When conversing with the natives, toss in a few “Weeeeelll doggies” and “bust mah britches.”

Also, if anyone in Blighty gets surly, just tell them “you’d as soon sandpaper a lion’s ass in a phone booth’n fuck with me!” while hopping around like Popeye. It helps if you also piss your pants. That’s been my expierence, anyway.

It’s fun on here when everyone’s had a few.

I generally find it’s enough to talk about my knife collection a lot. Also, ending random sentences with “…so I shot him! Hahaha!”

I cannot BELIEVE I am spending my weekend cleaning house for the cat sitter. But last time, she was like, “I noticed when I was upstairs…” and I go, “you went upstairs?!” and she goes, “oh, sorry…did I overstep my bounds?”

New cat sitter. I can’t get it through her skull that all I want her to do is show up, open a can of kitty glop, scratch Damien behind the ears (Charlotte hides from strangers) and give me a jingle if the place burns to the ground.

Why is it that we want our homes to be cleaner & tidier for visitors than we’re willing to maintain for ourselves?

“Because we don’t want them to think we’re slobs.”

But…..we ARE slobs! All of us. Deal with it!

My usual housekeeping routine is to come home and take my glasses off. I’m very nearsighted, so that generally does the trick. Occasionally, I’ll forgetfully walk in the door with them still on my face, which is a terrible shock. If that’s what everybody else sees, it’s not good.

I always concentrate my minimal energies on the kitchen and bathroom areas. I figure if there’s no rotting food or organic bits that came off of my body lying around, that’s pretty much as close to House Beautiful as I’m going to get. Dust bunnies, cobwebs and great tottering stacks of books and papers are character.

Books! Great piles – mountains – hordes – galaxies of books!

Oh, God….oh, no….(Mason Williams will sue me):

See all dem book-lookers
Ain’t dey da kooks?
Up in dem boondocks
Lookin’ dem books.

Lookin’ dem big books
Lookin’ dem tiny.
Lookin’ dem Nature books
An’ dem dat’s ‘bout hiney!

See all dem book-lookers.
Give’s me da chills
Books ’bout dat anthrax
Books ’bout da Pill.

Book-lookin’ on History
Book-lookin’ on bits.
Book ’bout dem killers
Book ’bout dem tits!

Book-lookin’ ’bout plague days
Book-lookin’ ’bout knights.
Book-lookin’ ’bout Newton
Book-lookin’ ’bout lice!

A-bombs an’ Tolkein
Da Ripper an’ Sam.
Lookin’ ’bout cyphers
‘An history of Man.

All dis is neat-o
All dis is da quill.
Now’s all’s dat’s I need’s
Is to pay da book bill.

OK, now I have the notion that the inside of your place looks like Adrian Monk’s brother’s house.

It’s not the clutter, it’s the smell folks. It’s gotta smell clean.

Stoaty – the gang is all present over there, it’s just in a new format. Check the forum out.

McGoo, that won you a trip to the spam filter. Not sure why. Maybe Akismet hates tummy gummers.

I loved that episode, Enas. I present the Happiest Place on Earth:

One corner of my grandfather’s study. The unhappy object in the lower left corner is my grandmother. His body wasn’t cold before she packed up all that stuff and sent it to my father, who recreated the whole thing in our den. This may give you some idea of the Casa del Weasel.

Ah, Sarah D, I changed by bookmark to point to the forum home (where the most recent post is May 3 and has three comments). I didn’t realize you have to go to forum/forum.

Weasel, if only it’d stayed there. I think I forgot to “shake” after my last spew. Pity.

Your G-father’s place looks comfy! Is that a police searchlight shining in the window?

Sarah D. says:

It’s not the clutter, it’s the smell folks.

Smell? What smell? Oh, that’s the ocean, dear.

Hmmph.

Oh, and Sarah, I see you’ve been playing with my laptop, too!

That picture’s kinda awesome. It’s a *lot*, but it’s …woah. There’s a style.

Years ago I accidentally stumbled on someone’s private website, because we were name twins. It was weird cus I looked at her friends, her pets, her cabin and decided I wanted her life. The cabin reminds me a bit of the study, though it’s not nearly as full of stuff.
http://www.nissa.net/cabin.html

You ended up in the spam filter, right next to farrah-fawcett-nude-pics.

Neat cabin. That’s a lot to mow, though. I inherited a crap piece of land way, way out in the boonies. I have ongoing fantasies about Farewell to Civilization and building a cabin out there. But I’m too squeamish to hunt, and a weasel’s got to eat…so I’d end up having to take a stupid job a long drive into town, which would harsh the rocky mountain high a little. A lot.

Da spam filter – she hungry today. An’ not a picky eater either. Farrah? What decade?

Hey whitishrabbit! Your comment about wanting her life was taken seriously. I think the weasel took care of that for you.

Move on in.

dang no html allowed in comments

here’s the link instead

http://www.nissa.net/04erica_visit_sept/meattackedbypelt.jpg

Heh. That’s WAY too big for a weasel. Got to be a wolverine, at least. Or many weasels clinging together to form one mighty group weasel

Hm. I haven’t disallowed HTML on purpose…must be inline images it won’t allow. It lets me do them, though.