Wednesday, January 26, 2005

It's not my fault, as I have been cursed by the Gypsies.

It is absolutely FREEZING in this house, but the thermostat is down the hall and tonight I'm too lazy to walk twenty steps, preferring to shiver and complain about doing so. There are no clean towels because the laundress-in-residence (who looks a lot like me) prefers to sit on her oversized derrierre and blog rather than get up, walk down a flight and a half of stairs and throw a load of clothes in the washing machine. The cat is insane and keeps reaching up and actually wrapping a paw around my wrist and dragging my hand away from the keyboard; if he had opposable thumbs, I'd be on the floor with claw marks on my neck by now. He thinks I will get up and walk to the kitchen and get down that bottle of kitty treats and throw one on the floor for him to inhale. I think those kitty treats are made of catnip and crack cocaine. Poor stupid Charley Gordon is helpless before the onslaught of moist kitty treats.

I do intend to do that in a few minutes. I'll just make a trail, a la Hansel and Gretel, across the floor, up to and leading out of the patio door. The cat is mentally challenged; he falls for that old trick every time.

If I owned a smart cat, he'd be driving my car, bouncing checks, and wearing my shoes by now. I'm easily outsmarted, as Belle and Zappa can both attest.

Today has been a pleasant, challenging day. Nothing bad has happened all day. Of course, as soon as you say that, or write it down, you've put an irreversible gypsy curse on yourself. Let's hope the gypsies aren't paying attention to me at this moment in time. I've suffered enough from gypsy curses this past year; I don't need another one.

Do you know why the gypsies are dying out? It's because all the men have crystal balls.

I do apologize. It was in me and had to come out.

And at my age, too. Inexcusable.

Oh, shut up. You laughed.

Actually, at my age, I bet I know more truly terrible 'jokes' than any two of you combined.

I'm listening to The Bond Girls. Awesome.

One of my students missed Monday's class. When she came in today, I asked her why she'd been absent. Her reply? "I overslept, and when I finally did wake up, I looked at the clock and thought, fuck it."

What a rank amateur. Doesn't she know enough to make up a big lie for the instructor, so she'd get sympathy and a list of make-up work? Dunderhead.

Now she's got three zeroes and a cleared space around her in the classroom.

A teensy little part of me admires her guts. The rest of me thinks she's a big dummy.

I can't believe I said "balls" and "fuck" on my blog.

Perhaps it's the gypsy curse, taking latent effect.

I do apologize. Again.