Last night, I was in my green chair reading, and when I looked up, there was my Lily, looking all regal. I took her photo, as is evidenced by Exhibit A, there, above me, and put it on Facebook. "You are here and warm, but I could look away and you'd be gone," I wrote, getting out my clay so I could sculpt my own face. Hello? Is it myself I'm looking for?
Then I waited for someone to get the reference, the "here and warm" reference. Of course, the thing started getting Likes, because cat photo. You put your cat or your dog on Facebook, all the white people are gonna like it. I told you what Fleeta said, right? She said for black people, you get Likes when you mention God. Imagine if you could get hold of God's dog. EVERYONE would like it. Ebony and ivory, Click Like together in perfect harmony.
What breed would God own? We all like to think he'd be super altruistic and get a mutt, but what if he spent thousands of dollars at the breeder cause he's super into Shar-Peis or something?
The point is, I finally had to ASK all my white friends what song I was referencing.
Hey, do you have a little broom? I've left leaves all over my keyboard. Who goes around making videos, with bad font, of '70s songs? That's just sad. "Oh, for a hobby, I make YouTube videos using terrible fonts."
THE POINT IS, on Facebook, we started quoting this song, and I said we need to incorporate the phrase "Fourteen joys and a will to be merry" into more conversations. So go out and do that. Report back to me. It'll go over well, I think, like when I said I was thankful for Texas Kari at Thanksgiving.
What do you think the 14 joys are? Ima list mine.
- Dogs who are not Edsel
Oh, that reminds me! Do you remember a week or so ago, when I told you guys about the old dog at the shelter, and how it was killing me that he was there, and his stupid stupid asshole owners gave him up because he was "too old"? Adopted. He got adopted. Oh, I am so glad! I couldn't STAND the thought of him in there.
I guess I have 11 more joys.
- clothes just out of the dryer
- turning on the TV and seeing It's a Wonderful Life is just starting
- kittens--which is totally different from cats
- mashed potatoes
- stuffing, except for when your own mother cockblocks you at Thanksgiving
- hearing church bells as you walk by
- trains in the night at a distance
- when Tallulah climbs on me and sighs and falls asleep like a big hunk of yellow lead
I have no will to be merry. Clearly.
Oh, and speaking of not being merry, I had to shoot and kill a cockroach ALL BY MYSELF last night. I was in here on the computer, as I am wont to be, and I heard this...ruckus. I turned around, and the giantest cockroach ever invented was on one of the boxes. It was right near the door, so I wondered if he let himself in, made himself at home on one of my boxes. It's not like I have an infestation, what with all the food in this house.
So I did what any reasonable adult would do: I left the room. Went to the living room and read my book like anyone else. But I KNEW he was in here. It was like having a roommate you don't really like. First, I brought in Iris. "Go kill the cockroach, Iris!" I commanded. She'll go out and fang a goose, but a cockroach? Not interested. Speaking of which...
Iris was completely unimpressed with the violence last night. yuu want to see fang? eyeriss show you fang dat make impact on world.
Since my hunter cat was apparently out for the season or something, like an ice cream shop in a tourist town, I did what any reasonable adult would do, and maybe I should re-peruse my Reasonable Adult Handbook or something. I got my sophomore yearbook and threw it on the bug.
Then I waited, like I was baking a souffle, so he'd be good and suffocated under my Fair Isle sweater 10th-grade photo. Oh, it took ALL THE COURAGE THAT I HAD to lift that book. All the courage. Had I died doing this, I'd have needed you to say how valiantly I fought.
Ding dong, dudes. Cocksucker was dead.
Then I had to get ALL MY COURAGE again to sweep him up and RUN out of the house with him in a dustpan. I wasn't leaving it in the trash. What if he resurrected and had revenge on his roachy mind? The whole time I was carrying out my mission, my Operation Cockroach, I looked like this:
But i did it. It's my first murder and disposal of cockroaches without calling some boy to come over. SHUT UP. They scare me. Cockroaches, not boys. Although given my history, I should be scareder of boys.
Okay, I have to go to work. I'm wearing a sweater dress in which I look reasonably chunky, but wearing large sweater over it so NO ONE HAS TO KNOW. I hope it's not take-off-your-sweater-day at work today. Ooo! I just remembered it's food truck day, though!
June, buggin' out.