Saturday, January 15, 2005

Containing furry friends, furlessness, dryness and statistics

You might remember my little furry friend, and my posturing about what to do to get rid of him. As seasoned observers of me could probably have predicted, I chose the path of least resistance, that of peaceful coexistence (okay, I was too lazy to do anything about Mr Mouse, apologies if it is actually Mrs, Ms or Miss Mouse). All of which means that this week he was once more terrorising my bathroom. I'm not sure what is so exciting about the underneath of my bath, but Mousey (a pleasantly unisex description) is fascinated by it. It is one of those enclosed tubs, so I don't get to experience the wonders that Mousey does. I have to admit is a little bit unnerving to sit on the toilet, with your knickers around your ankles, knowing that the mouse is scurrying about a couple of feet away. Still, we seem to be getting on okay at the moment.

On the subject of fur, well mice have fur so it's all most on topic, I gave myself my quarterly haircut last night, well hair is like fur so it's almost on topic. The result of which is that I've gone from looking like a fluffy haired fool, to looking like a fuzzy haired retard/asylum escapee. At least that is what the front of my hair looks like, who knows how much of an abortion I made of the back. (That phrase suddenly strikes me as very odd, can abortion really have a qualifier? If it can what would half an abortion look like? Actually, it is probably best not to dwell on questions like that.) The one remaining haircut related question I have is why is furlessness not a word, whereas hairlessness is a word. I think it is discriminatory.

On a completely unrelated note, the skin on my right knuckle is incredibly dry. I can't work out why it is only the skin on my right knuckle that is so dry. I mean, what do I do with only my right hand? Okay having asked that question the obvious answer springs immediately to mind, well to my mind at least. But that is meant to make you go blind not give you a dry patch of skin on your right hand. Unless of course God realised that the practise is now so widespread that blindness was an excessive punishment, so he downgraded it to a bout of dry skin.

In yet more completely unrelated news, I saw, from looking at the usage statistics of this blog (which I spend far too much of my life looking at), that somebody spent a long time looking at the site today, after searching for Victorian's Midnight Cafe. They were someone from Columbus, so now I have to wonder are they someone I know? And if they are someone I know, did I write something that I shouldn't have, as I'm sometimes prone to do after drinking one, or maybe two, more than I should before writing an entry. I suppose only time will tell, or not as the case maybe. It gives me something to think about at least, which is nice as I spent all day in bed today with a nasty stomach bug/ailment/thingy. Hopefully tomorrow will bring me a more healthy tummy.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

I certainly didn't realize the internet gods were recording my browsing for Voctorian's Midnight Cafe... I feel exposed, dirty even.

The fact is, I ran across your blog and had to keep reading becuase it was so entertaining (plus I know who you are and find you amusing).

Got the heebie-jeebies yet?
(sinsiter laughter)

I'll be watching you

Ryan said...

It is amazing what the Internet gods know. I think they might actually be omnipotent. Sadly, the ones who tell me things stop short of useful information such as names, bank account details, etc.

So now I have to wonder who I know, or who knows me, that a) finds me amusing (for some reason that phrase makes me think of the way a kitten playing with a ball of wool is amusing) and b) would say 'heebie-jeebies'? It's all very intriguing, and just a little bit scary.

Anonymous said...

Mmm-wah-wha-wha-hahaha!

You are right I suppose about the inappropriate usage of the word 'amusing' to describe a man that is about three times larger in overall mass than I am. FOrgive it please. As to heebie-jeebies, what can I say? Ohio has been working its linguistic-magic on me. The other day I actually said 'holy cow'.

The last time I saw you, I thought of asking your thoughts on cold-fusion (the feasibnilit/possibility of the idea, but you stumbled out before I could.

Ryan said...

Holy cow? A third my mass? Cold-fusion?

The plot thickens...

Sasha said...

Wow, so I am inspired now. I always thought it was sort of an inane self-absorbed activity- blogging, that is. Here I am though, for some reason, jsut putting the touch on my very own blog. WOw, I feel like a asshole. Why would anyone want to read about anyone else unless that other person was liek, super interesting, like maybe had video footage on their blog of them sword-swallowing maked or soemthing. No, we just at or screens and type away about going to the store, washing the dishes, getting drunk, and living our boring lives.

I would like to think this is all going to be some sort of a relevant cultural resource someday. People in 2154 will look back onto our blogs and say things like, "wow, they sure drank a lot back then" or "gee, how many dishes can one person wash?" How many people have truly intersting blogs?

Well, I thought about going into VIctorian's today (for reasons other than pleasantly enjoying a cup of coffee, but I will risk arrest and possibly deportation if I do. It is all very sad, indeed. I would love a beer there today, I think an Oberon on the tap or maybe an Anchor Steam (although they plump my girlish figure).

Well, I've gone on too long. Thanks for not even answering my question about cold fusion (choosing instead to repeat back to me what I had already said)

Ryan said...

I still think of blogging as an inane, self absorbed activity. I just don't think that there is anything wrong with being inanely self-absorbed, or self-absorbedly inane. Plus, of course, if you are going to be absorbed by something, why not have it be yourself? It is so much easier than going out there and finding a passion.

Arrested and deported for going out for a beer? It sounds terribly scary. But then again, if it happened to me at least, it could mean a free flight home, which is not to be sniffed at.

As for cold fusion, my lack of answer probably quite adequately reflects my lack of knowledge.