Exxxxtreme Randomness

Happy fucking Valentine's Day, ya'll. Hope you got laid. If not, I hope you had a fresh set of "C" cell batteries.

Yeah. I said it.

I am running off about 4 hours of sleep last night punctuated by a very disturbing dream about me killing a tiny mouse...by crushing him in my fist. It was fucked up. All that was left was bones. I am going to blame my lack of REM time for the sheer weirdness of this post.

Remember, back before The Geej when I used to be one of those people who frequently posted photos and/or stories about her cat(s)? Yeah...them was the days. I thought, for old time's sake, that you might enjoy a couple of recent photos of the Big Orange Boy doing his thing.

That's him "helping" me fold laundry. Those are Geej clothes he's propped up against. I love how his ears are pointed totally backwards as if to say, "Yeah...I hear you, fucktard. I know you're taking my picture. Now, go get me a treat."

There he is, burrowing in warm, clean towels. I had brought this batch to the couch to fold, went back to get another arm full, and came back to this. It's like he's supernaturally attracted to warm, clean laundry. If you could only hear the disturbingly loud, rattling purr that was going on when I snapped this.

And there he is just looking incredibly handsome. I love that chubby little mama's boy.

Here's The Geej (it's pronounced "Geej" like "gee whiz," not like "geek," by the way), rocking on her rocking horse with a mouth full of wop wop (waffle). She was attempting to sing "Row Row Row Your Boat" (the only words to which are apparently, "row row row row row row row") when I snapped this before school yesterday. Thanks A.O. for the bitchin' hand-me-down sweater!! It's finally cool enough to wear it!! Like her hair? Poor child. When your mom doesn't even know how to use a hair dryer, you're doomed to having fucked up hair dos.

Let's compare, shall we? This is The Geej last April:

Pale. Undernourished. Rickets. Anemia. Un-smiling. Silent. Rocking herself to sleep with what is known as the "Orphan Rock." Nearly 8 months old, couldn't sit up on her own or crawl, drowning in a 3 to 6 mos. pair of p.j.s.

And here's that goofball earlier tonight...stumbling around after a marathon session of spinning around to "Ring Around the Rosies":

Amazing what a little love will do, no?

Speaking of "love"...

When I drove up to the house today, I noticed something on my front patio: a single red long-stemmed rose and a little gift box of chocolates and cookies. From Mr. Mumbly, no less. How sweet is that? And, I got an e-mail from the old high school "wonder-what-would've-happened-if" boy that said simply, "Will you be my valentine?"

So today wasn't entirely shitty.