WHO MADE THIS MESS?!

Just wait until I find out who left this mess on my floor! Milk spilled on the sofa - feces on the wainscoting - bananas everywhere! The cleaning lady won't be back for a week, and I have guests arriving any minute! Not just any guests, either, but guests from the groves of academe. And who drank all the rum? Sheesh, WHAT IS GOING ON?


UPDATE:

I knew it!



It was that no-good Baby Monkey! Trashed my house and passed out in his bananaskin hammock, he did! It's a good thing my guests stood me up, because they would have been appalled by this mess. Also, I'm out of rum and the guest room smells like unwashed baby primate. Try getting that smell out of the drapes, peoples! Ha! Not going to happen!

Do Not Phone Me Before Sunrise Unless I Have Won a Major Award

Early this morning my friend Schaffer phoned me to ask for my phone number. "How did you call me just now if you don't have my phone number?!" I roared, and groped around in the dark for a beer bottle to shatter against the radiator. I couldn't find one. Schaffer quietly explained that my number was on speed dial and that the LCD was terminally horckled and that he couldn't read my number in order to transfer it to his new telephone. When I asked him what "terminally horckled" meant, he mewled and equivocated and cleared his throat, so I assumed it all had to do with his ridiculous wife, who was probably lording over him right at that moment, scowling and breathing on his bald spot from above like some sort of haggard tree reptile. I gave him the number to Dominoes Pizza and went back to bed.

Arm & Hammer Baking Soda Box Instructions Deliver a Subtle Message Regarding Who Can and Who Cannot Afford a Swimming Pool of Their Own

Yesterday I received a box of Arm & Hammer Baking Soda so large that it came emblazoned with instructions to purify swimming pool water. The small boxes merely instruct you to sprinkle baking soda on your grody bathroom tile. Why does Arm & Hammer hate the poor? Rich folks buy the large box of baking soda, poor folks buy the small box; rich folks have swimming pools, poor folks have mildewy tiles. Idiots. Maybe I have no swimming pool because I thought I had no foolproof way to keep the pool water pure. They ought to put the pool directions on the small box, so that those of us who are rich (though poolless) and who normally buy the small box (because the big box is ostentatious) would realize that we do indeed have a way of purifying pool water with massive amounts of baking soda.

The first thing I'm going to do when I get my new pool is drain it and let it gradually fill with brown leaves and Captain Morgan bottles and fast-food wrappers. Then some day I'll find a corpse in my trash pool and I'll call the cops and they'll say, "Thanks, lady, you did the right thing by calling us," and then I'll get engaged to the police commissioner and we'll plan a lovely September wedding to take place outdoors by the very trash pool that brought us together, but then he'll discover that I have no dowry so he'll leave me for Doreen McKracken from Staten Island. Yes, that Doreen McKracken!

Ought I Chloroform My Neighbor? A Brief Primer for the Hesitant

In a word, yes. Chloroform early and often, but never in order to deceive or harm. If you're like most Topic Drift readers, you occasionally chloroform a neighbor or loved one as a simple parlor trick or while making a point about the validity of a codicil, but have you ever considered chloroforming under the following circumstances?

-At dinner parties, in order to pilfer your neighbor's baked custard
-At backyard barbecues, in order to pilfer your neighbor's grilled chop
-At frontyard barbecues, in order to impress your neighbor's neighbors (who may also be your neighbors, and as such may need chloroforming themselves)
-When stealthily absconding with art (Oi, careful! Do not abscond with abstract art, as it is not real art)
-When confronted with the truth on a sunny afternoon
-In the dentist's office, in order to better read your neighbor's copy of Better Homes and Gardens
-At the beach, in order to take credit for your neighbor's sand castle (chloroform at least one hour after eating)
-On the battlefield, in order to effect general anesthesia during impromptu limb amputation (Mexican-American War and War of Northern Aggression only)
-While riding the city bus (chloroform self)

A few chloroform "nevers:"
-Never chloroform a woman; women hate that.
-Never chloroform a member of the Swiss guard; the Vatican hates that.
-Never chloroform yourself while standing upright; you will surely fall and bloody your brow on a boot scraper or a toy tractor.
-Never chloroform your chemist; he will rebel and stop selling you chloroform. Chloroform your chemist once and you will need to chloroform him every time you want more chloroform. I beg you, take this one seriously.
-Never chloroform in the workplace unless your employee handbook expressly allows it.
-Never chloroform a team mascot; that's poor sportsmanship

As one who has spent most of her life squarely in the "chloroform first, ask questions later" camp, I must admit that I've finally learned to ask questions first and chloroform later - in some cases, years later. This saves both time and bail money.

Your Lack of Concern Startles Me

Why don't I blog more often? Is it because I have set a standard so high that even I cannot reach it frequently, or is it because my devastating sagacity traps me in silent awe? Yes.

Whatever it is that keeps me from blogging, it isn't some sort of hilarious disease "prevalent in much of tropical Africa, marked by fever, protracted lethargy, tremors, and loss of weight," and it definitely isn't "caused by either of two trypanosomes (Trypanosoma brucei gambiense and T. b. rhodesiense)," and isn't, under any circumstance, "transmitted by tsetse flies."

Shilling Cheese is the New Black

Just discovered the following gnostic text hidden in plain sight in the latest New Yorker magazine. The Illuminati thought they could slip this one by me. Ha! Not so! When it comes to detecting esoteric wisdom tucked in cheese, my eyes are like divine sniffer dogs. I am on to your ruse, David Remnick - if that is your real name.

It is Too Dark in this Tent

I am living in a tent now. In the backyard. It's not liberating, but it's home. I'm not going to sleep in the tent, or spend any time in the tent, but the tent is pitched. I put a flashlight and a plush puffin in the tent. The flashlight does not have any batteries.

Really - the tent is unpleasant, so I'm going to spend my time in the house for now.

Interiors 1 & 2: Sunday

Interior: Downstairs
Penguin examines Christmas Tree with a jaundiced eye. Deer sits behind Christmas Tree and notices that her deodorant is not working. Seashell cusses like a sailor. Seashell hates Christmas! Seashell wishes Fly would get off the goddamn Yellow Chair. Fly is sleeping off her liquor. Penguin thinks Fly has a drinking problem but is too polite to say anything. Deer is thinking about sewing a new apron for summer. She reckons she will make blueberry jam this summer.


Interior: Upstairs
Kitty talks into her mobile phone as she guards the apples in the attic. Duck is worried about Medicare. Bunny is holding his carrot carefully. "I wish I had a Live Strong bracelet," says Duck. Bunny thinks Live Strong bracelets are a joke but is too polite to say so. Kitty wants everyone to shut up. She is trying to talk to her attorney. Will the valet drop the charges? Kitty didn't mean to hurt the valet. She only wanted to scare him. She wanted her tip back. Kitty's car will never be the same now! The valet spilled Mountain Dew into the coin holder.

Listen, Did You Piss My Floor or What?

Just arrived home after a sensible 3-hour beer bender. I had intended to eat some Little Debbie Zebra Cakes, listen to ABBA and go to bed, but as I walked in the door I met a ghastly odor: urine! Fucking urine! Who pissed in my house? Who dares befoul my castle?! Probably the cat, but I can't be sure. Could've been anyone. The old proverb says "A bad workman always blames his tools," but I haven't any tools to blame. If you are a tool and want to take one for the team, go ahead and take credit for the piss on my floor. You will be richly rewarded in the afterlife - if you belong to the Anointed Class the Jehovah's Witnesses keep nattering on about. If you're not of the Anointed Class, you will meet eternal death. No afterlife for you. Can't be helped. Piss on all the floors you want, what've you got to lose?

Stetson! You Who were with Me in the Ships at Mylae! Oi, You Never Call Anymore!

Normally, I am opposed to change. Lately, however, I have been wondering why nothing ever changes. Perhaps I need to get out more often. Leaving the compound thrice annually isn't cutting it anymore. I need a raison d'etre - a real leg-breaker. A real back-thwacking leg-breaking raison d'etre. A real horn-swaggling mirror-fogging back-thwacking leg-breaking fly-swatting shirt-sorting raison d'etre. Perhaps I should take up The Honorable Art of Quilting. I would rather die alone at sea than construct a quilt with my own hands, but I suppose I could give it a go. Strictly for the sake of change. In case you were wondering, I have already eliminated the idea of learning The Honorable Art of Knife Throwing, as I am deathly afraid of knives. As I always say, if there is anything more frightening than a knife lurking in the voluminous folds of a homemade quilt, I cannot visualize it.

Update: Perhaps a tiny knife-wielding, quilt-swaddled monkey lurking within the ornate bas-relief handle of a larger knife would be more frightening than a single knife lurking within the voluminous folds of a homemade quilt. But really, I don't like to think about it.

I Am Now a Professional Photographical Artist

I make art. My art speaks louder than blog! Behold my feelings!



Soon I will have new feelings. When this happens, I will have more photographical art to share with you. Until then I will be watching MTV Cribs marathon. Tony Hawk, your house is amazin'!

Losing It

I'm concerned about my indiscriminate comma use. Once upon a time I was convinced that I could quit whenever I wanted to, but now I'm not sure. You can't see me, reader? but I am in despair? the tears are coursing down my cheeks and I cannot keep from shaking. Demon commas, will I ever learn?

Also, pre-soiled cowboy felt hats. Available upon request: Imitation blood initials on brim. First two initials are free - each additional letter $2. Fools! Do not pay for imitation brim blood! I will bloody your brim for free! First, you must fight me.

Update: Just saw Martin Amis ride by on a bicycle.

Update Update: Was it really Martin Amis? Now I have a problem with question marks? Oh crap?

I Won't

Every time I set foot in the bank, some jaundiced teller tries to bully me into adopting direct deposit for my paychecks. "Just shut up and be grateful I'm bringing you my paychecks at all. Are you on commission? Don't answer that - I'm trying to sleep," I say. Then I shut my eyes and snore a little. Occasionally I admit that much of the work I do is illegal, and that I don't want to sabotage my income by drawing undue attention to my employer through direct banking schemes. Doesn't really matter what I tell the tellers, I suppose, as long as I always remember to place my pocket lint on the ATM for the fairies before I exit the premises.

Freep? Yes It Is, Only More So.

Ah, Sunday afternoon, with the sitting around and the deep sighing and the sitting around. Also with the deep signing and the sitting around. Sigh. I’m reminded of the time Pee Wee said, “There’s things about me you don't know, Dottie. Things you wouldn't understand. Things you couldn't understand. Things you shouldn't understand.” I’m also reminded of John Jay, honored statesman and premier chief justice of the US Supreme Court. Always I am stymied: is John Jay considered a bona fide founding father, or was he just a guy who happened to know the right guys at the right time? I picture John Jay as an incredibly corpulent man - positively globular - but etchings from the time portray a trim and elegant chap. Not that you can’t be chubby and elegant. Not that you can’t be a chubby, elegant, bona fide founding father.

Somebody Give My Puzzle a Handclap

I've been too busy with my new jigsaw puzzle to update my blog. When I am finished, my puzzle will reveal a tiresome mountain scene from Maroon Lake, Colorado. Do not let my choice of puzzle mislead you: I generally dislike Colorado, and I chose the Colorado puzzle only because the alternative was the Three Country-Style Birdhouses Displayed on Picnic Table puzzle. If you subtract the natural beauty from Colorado, what have you left? Bupkis - and a few skinny loonies living in hemp teepees. And that's just the Greater Denver area.

Finished the sky over Maroon Lake today. Shit's looking up. I will fill in a bit of mountain foliage next, but only because I hear green is relaxing.