Trey Won't
Pet peeve of the day; people who stand in doorways unnecessarily. I think these people must share their personalities with their cats, (cats don't understand doors) which is needless to say unattractive. Even if the cat isn't oozing things, like Sheridan's cat did the other night-
There isn't any need to stand in a doorway unless you are in a queue that extends beyond the entrance, but today I went to the post office to post a parcel and these women are standing there at the doors, with the doors open, blocking the entrance, gazing into the place of Wonder and Mystery that is: The Post Office. They give every impression of being completely entranced, like in movies when actors behold some special effect or people seeing an IMAX 3-D movie for the first time. I should have said, I really wish I could see what you are seeing. O well, I will have to use that line again.
More about Sheridan's cat being oozy than you really wanted to know, and another pet peeve; I hate it when people have animals, and they insist that you love their animal as much as they do. No, I do NOT want your dog to slobber on me; I don't even want MY dog to slobber on me, and I don't want it to get its muddy paws all over my suit, and I don't want it to chew on my toes. And it does not provide for a restful evening if I am constantly fending off demands for attention from your pet.
I like cats if they are not oozing things, but Sheridan's one cat has gotten to the stage of decreptitude at which he is getting skinnier and skinnier and looks sort of moth eaten, and he isn't continent and pees in the furnace vents. He wanted very badly to get on my lap but I didn't want him to climb on me (he clawed me once) so instead he got on Sheridan's lap and promptly let fly a considerable glob of cat spit. I didn't feel any need to contain my revulsion; if one is going to have smelly revolting animals then one should expect that. So I hopped around and said eww eww ewww. I wonder what sort of games one can play with an oozy cat; perhaps one could make it into a really disgusting sort of Super Soaker.
To get to the original subject of what I was writing about was I cooked Rouladen again this week, which are lovely German steak and bacon and pickle rolls and then I ran out of pickles so I asked Trey to get THREE things from Kroger: Dijon mustard, dill pickles and cilantro. Trey managed to get two out of the three things wrong; he didn't read the label and got some damn kind of Dijonnaise mustard, and he didn't get cilantro and got Italian parsley instead. Arrgh.
Also Trey won't let me try the Whipped Cream on him. I bought some of that whipped cream that comes in a spray can with the intent of using it on him, and I even bought two flavours but he said he was "resting" and wouldn't let me do it. I have heard that you have to wash it off immediately because it smells afterwards. I think today I will make him lie down and use it on him.
There isn't any need to stand in a doorway unless you are in a queue that extends beyond the entrance, but today I went to the post office to post a parcel and these women are standing there at the doors, with the doors open, blocking the entrance, gazing into the place of Wonder and Mystery that is: The Post Office. They give every impression of being completely entranced, like in movies when actors behold some special effect or people seeing an IMAX 3-D movie for the first time. I should have said, I really wish I could see what you are seeing. O well, I will have to use that line again.
More about Sheridan's cat being oozy than you really wanted to know, and another pet peeve; I hate it when people have animals, and they insist that you love their animal as much as they do. No, I do NOT want your dog to slobber on me; I don't even want MY dog to slobber on me, and I don't want it to get its muddy paws all over my suit, and I don't want it to chew on my toes. And it does not provide for a restful evening if I am constantly fending off demands for attention from your pet.
I like cats if they are not oozing things, but Sheridan's one cat has gotten to the stage of decreptitude at which he is getting skinnier and skinnier and looks sort of moth eaten, and he isn't continent and pees in the furnace vents. He wanted very badly to get on my lap but I didn't want him to climb on me (he clawed me once) so instead he got on Sheridan's lap and promptly let fly a considerable glob of cat spit. I didn't feel any need to contain my revulsion; if one is going to have smelly revolting animals then one should expect that. So I hopped around and said eww eww ewww. I wonder what sort of games one can play with an oozy cat; perhaps one could make it into a really disgusting sort of Super Soaker.
To get to the original subject of what I was writing about was I cooked Rouladen again this week, which are lovely German steak and bacon and pickle rolls and then I ran out of pickles so I asked Trey to get THREE things from Kroger: Dijon mustard, dill pickles and cilantro. Trey managed to get two out of the three things wrong; he didn't read the label and got some damn kind of Dijonnaise mustard, and he didn't get cilantro and got Italian parsley instead. Arrgh.
Also Trey won't let me try the Whipped Cream on him. I bought some of that whipped cream that comes in a spray can with the intent of using it on him, and I even bought two flavours but he said he was "resting" and wouldn't let me do it. I have heard that you have to wash it off immediately because it smells afterwards. I think today I will make him lie down and use it on him.
posted by SavageATL at 6:25 PM
1 Comments:
I've used whipped cream in such a fashion before. I don't remember it smelling foul if it didn't get all removed. Anyway, it's really not as exciting as you'd think. You think it's going to be all hot & stuff, but not really. The whipped cream kinda gets in the way of what you're really after, and after a short while you just put it away and get down to business.
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