Will You Be My Dox-entine?
Apparently this using-up-all-my-legal-pads-while-only-half-listening-to-webinars thing has become a whole...you know, "Thing," because look at how I am back! And it hasn't even been a whole year! Am I on something? Or have I just been subjected to a lot of webinars lately? Including some in which I was the actual speaker, but that did not stop me from doodling as I talked about Critically Important Legal Changes that could get you eaten? You decide! I lead a glamorous life.
Anyway, I decided to make some Valentines for you. They are my pets' versions of famous poems. Apparently all of my pets have English degrees, which probably explains why they are unemployed (cheap shot!) (P.S.: don't email; I was an English major, too. Which you probably gathered by the total cohesiveness and lack of run-on sentences in my entries, and also, how for about three weeks when I first started blogging I tried using all lower-case letters like I was the blonde reincarnation of e.e. cummings, and now I shudder in revulsion at my history as a living cliche, and believe me when I say that my older self went back and fixed THAT shit with a quickness). Anyway (ANYWAY), I drew you these pitchers, and they are more fun than webinars. And, as always, all are based on true events. At least there were no bunnies harmed this time.
I've fallen for you, Valentine!
Pee mine, Valentine!
You deserve to be spoiled, Valentine!
If I can't sleep, you can't sleep, Valentine.
Get fucking MOVING, Valentine
Your new Valentine is named "the dry cleaner."
Happy Valentine's Day to y'all; I hope you are surrounded by love and happiness, and that nothing too atrocious has happened to your sofa. The comments are still broken, and likely will be until I update my whole entire platform and stuff (which...speaking of a whole "Thing"), but until then, you can come share the love over on the Facebook page; I can't promise tummy rubs or treats, but sometimes I get drunk and post music videos of myself doing choreographed dances to rap hits. Because THAT sounds enticing, I know.
Have a wonderful day, pretties! XOXO!
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In Which I Take Notes
I tried to publish this picture on the Facebook page, which is where I've been doing the majority of my chatting lately (majority = all), but then it was too big, and so you couldn't really see it. And I was like, well, shit! If only there was an online location where I could PUT a large image of this kind! But where on the internet will I ever FIND such a place?
I'm an idiot. Also, the dogs are different, as you can see in this high-quality image that was drawn on a legal pad when possibly I should have been listening to something else. This is very probably only funny to me.
I Wish This Had Only Happened Once.
Ha. "A place to publish things that isn't Facebook." Oh, I'm still chuckling over that one. Like Zuckerbwhatever would ever let that happen! Or the Google people, for that matter. Although, I am less upset about Google infringing on all our privacy rights, because I strongly believe that I need babysitting pretty much all the time. And I dream of an online search engine where I can type in, "Where the hell are my keys?" and have the answer be, "In the left pocket of your jacket, moron. Also, the stove is still on and you are wearing two different shoes. TRY AGAIN." Google! Set your satellites on "supervise!" I'm the one with the bits of fucking BUNNY IN THE YARD. (People who this is not going to be funny to = Brian, my poor vegetarian husband who had to come running in response to my 7 a.m. banshee screaming, to clean up bunny bits and thwock them over the fence while I shrieked in a non-helpful manner, and Bo whimpered like he was dying, and Gimmme ran around in circles, all, "WHERE AIR SNACK GOING?")
Point being: oh! Hello, blog! And for all of y'all not on Facebook with the rest of us minions: hello to you, too! You look awesome. Especially without bits of bunny in your hair.
P.S.: Oh, and apparently comments are broken again, and everyone is getting a damn error, and hello to YET ANOTHER REASON I probably should just stick to Facebook and allow Google to tell me what to do with myself. Dear Google: please fix the comments. XOXO! Anyway, in case Google doesn't come through, I'll keep screwing with it myself. Thanks for letting me know!