The Short, Short Version #5

Week Ending 11/17/2013

Fear:  The electrical sockets have been shorting out and sparking lately, and I live with people stupid enough to say, out loud, "If it hasn't caught fire yet, it won't."

Disgust:  Several members of my family play an interesting musical instrument called the Hacking Cough Bagpipes.  These are instruments grown in the pectoral area, and notes are produced by smoking, living in filth, running around outside in the snow with no shirt, and hysterical overreactions to daily events.  Pitch and force are determined by size, vocal structure, and body strength.  It is amazing to hear the symphony at night.

Sadness:  Another year, another Christmas CD at work with no Dig that Crazy Santa Claus.

Anger:  The vet.  I could not get a hold of the vet for almost two weeks, and when I left a message that she didn't get for days, she told me to make sure next time to leave a message with a real person.  I told her several times that I called over and over, and no one picked up, and so how was I supposed to do so?  Her response was just, well, keep calling.  And I was like, no, this isn't my fault.  Then she told me to e-mail her, because she would definitely get that, and so I did, and she claimed she didn't see it for, like, 36 hours.

Happiness:  "IT'S THE EYE OF THE TIGER / IT'S THE THRILL OF THE FIGHT / RISING UP TO THE CHALLENGE OF OUR RIVAL / AND THE LAST KNOWN SURVIVOR STALKS HIS PREY IN THE NIGHT / AND HE'S WATCHING US ALL WITH THE EYE...OF THE TIGER!"  Sung as loudly as that in the car when it came on and I was able to hear the WHOLE song.

Surprise:  I have outgrown skulls, horror, goth, etc.  I still gravitate toward punk rock looks, but more sophisticated.  I am disappointed in half of my wardrobe.  I need to be more picky and yet more open-minded, because lately clothes I would have rolled my eyes at five years ago are super flattering and adorable.

Randomness:  In the Zombie Apocalypse, I will be the first to go.  Babies bite me whenever I pick them up, and children and even grown, random adults have told me how good I smell.  I have had customers lean in to smell me, or pet me, or play with my hair.  I am frequently asked what my perfume is, and when I say I'm not wearing perfume, there is a glint, a gleam, as they imagine how delicious I am.