Brad Pitt Takes on the Mouse
I'm amazed that "Blarney kookoo" isn't a well-known url name for a blog! Gee, who woulda thunk it! Slowly I move my stealthy way past the sensors.
Since people familiar with my blog, all 1.5 of you, know by now I simply spout off about whatever the hell I feel like, you will not be amazed to know I've been wrestling with a mouse. My brother's house is in a somewhat rural section of New England, which means there are MICE, people. As in one dying right now in his laundry area.
I was brave, put on a pair of golashes, and stomped down there with a snow shovel to take the damned thing out and put it out onto the grass. The problem is that it's not quite dead, and kept moving around. This freaked me out a bit, so I am letting it die, then I'll remove it, thank you very much. I hope I have not contracted New England Mouse Plague in the process, and if I was more humane and less squeamish I would take the thing ON to the shovel and put it OUT even though it protested, like, a lot. I feel quite bad for the mouse, actually, sentimental sap that I am, and hope it is not suffering too badly. If this was a terrible story by VC Andrews (remember that series, the one where the woman locks up her grandkids in the attic or something, and the siblings do it? ugh) I'd eat the mouse like the kids did. 'Cause they were starving, and VC Andrews and Co. are a vile lot, making money off of ickyness. Sad lot, they.
Now that I've b/c the slightly repugnant yet lovely Cockney, I'd like to talk about Brangelina! Why not, hey, since I cannot yet work on my book and must write every day in order to keep up with the writing stuff. Plus I have now watched Buffy DVD's to the point of saturation, and that's not good. Well, at least it's quality TV, dammit.
I think that Brad Pitt and his new girlfriend are yucky. As in, more icky than mice or slightly repugnant Cockneys. The minute he's on his merry way he shacks up with I Can Take Your Husband With A Mere Glance, I Can and poor Jennifer Aniston is left alone to count her millions and make out with Vince Vaughn and go on Oprah and show us her lithsome frame on the cover of Vanity Fair.
Um, why did I feel sorry for her, again?
Seriously, divorce is divorce no matter what, and I am on Jen's side. I never liked Mr. Pitt -- something kinda snarky there methought, and boy, was I right -- and even though Angelina Jolie is a good actress and amazingly pretty and flies planes and spearheads commando missions to Africa and I, like, eat Doritos when I'm depressed, it's OK. 'Cause most of us will never be movie stars.
I'd like to see them take on the mouse, whoobah!! Yah!
Um, er, whatever.
As Buffy always says...well, I'm sure she always said SOMETHING. When she wasn't shagging Spike. God, I did love Spike, so. Nice boy, that. Him.
As Buffy always said, it's not what you're doing, it's who you're doing it with. So avoid men like Brad Pitt.
Concentrate on them Doritos, instead. And then watch Oprah to get weight loss tips.
Since people familiar with my blog, all 1.5 of you, know by now I simply spout off about whatever the hell I feel like, you will not be amazed to know I've been wrestling with a mouse. My brother's house is in a somewhat rural section of New England, which means there are MICE, people. As in one dying right now in his laundry area.
I was brave, put on a pair of golashes, and stomped down there with a snow shovel to take the damned thing out and put it out onto the grass. The problem is that it's not quite dead, and kept moving around. This freaked me out a bit, so I am letting it die, then I'll remove it, thank you very much. I hope I have not contracted New England Mouse Plague in the process, and if I was more humane and less squeamish I would take the thing ON to the shovel and put it OUT even though it protested, like, a lot. I feel quite bad for the mouse, actually, sentimental sap that I am, and hope it is not suffering too badly. If this was a terrible story by VC Andrews (remember that series, the one where the woman locks up her grandkids in the attic or something, and the siblings do it? ugh) I'd eat the mouse like the kids did. 'Cause they were starving, and VC Andrews and Co. are a vile lot, making money off of ickyness. Sad lot, they.
Now that I've b/c the slightly repugnant yet lovely Cockney, I'd like to talk about Brangelina! Why not, hey, since I cannot yet work on my book and must write every day in order to keep up with the writing stuff. Plus I have now watched Buffy DVD's to the point of saturation, and that's not good. Well, at least it's quality TV, dammit.
I think that Brad Pitt and his new girlfriend are yucky. As in, more icky than mice or slightly repugnant Cockneys. The minute he's on his merry way he shacks up with I Can Take Your Husband With A Mere Glance, I Can and poor Jennifer Aniston is left alone to count her millions and make out with Vince Vaughn and go on Oprah and show us her lithsome frame on the cover of Vanity Fair.
Um, why did I feel sorry for her, again?
Seriously, divorce is divorce no matter what, and I am on Jen's side. I never liked Mr. Pitt -- something kinda snarky there methought, and boy, was I right -- and even though Angelina Jolie is a good actress and amazingly pretty and flies planes and spearheads commando missions to Africa and I, like, eat Doritos when I'm depressed, it's OK. 'Cause most of us will never be movie stars.
I'd like to see them take on the mouse, whoobah!! Yah!
Um, er, whatever.
As Buffy always says...well, I'm sure she always said SOMETHING. When she wasn't shagging Spike. God, I did love Spike, so. Nice boy, that. Him.
As Buffy always said, it's not what you're doing, it's who you're doing it with. So avoid men like Brad Pitt.
Concentrate on them Doritos, instead. And then watch Oprah to get weight loss tips.
posted by lakeofthelongsun72 at 3:43 PM
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