Hello to all fervent can-openers, dog-people, mermaids and mermen, aliens, tree-men, computer viruses, and Sith lords.
Solitary Confinement stretches on, for the second month now. When will I finally loose my mind for good? The bets are in! Starting at three weeks, anybody for three weeks…? Three weeks, we have three weeks! Four weeks, anybody for four weeks? (If you’re interested in making some quick money… well, there are LESS reliable stocks than the When-She-Loses-Her-Mind Stock to invest in!)
Anyway, the highlights of Solitary Confinement, week 15 are, as usual, few. The most important one is the arrival of a certain yellow creature I have named Cudgel. Cudgel is a small, slightly disfigured chick. His eyes were glued on sideways and his little plastic beak is open in a permanent exclamation of, ‘EUUGH?.’ If you look at the photo you’ll know what I mean.
Anyway, Cudgel’s kind of sweet. He just kind of sits there and looks funny.
So! What else? Well, the Star Wars aficionado I mentioned last blog is apparently going into epileptic fits of rage over the fact that I haven’t been to school in two months. Oh, poor little friends; they’re breaking down without me, apparently. I’d better get to school before they start killing each other. It’s nice that they miss me, and a sword fight between the guys I like seems kind of interesting. Maybe I’ll find a way to set that up. Hmm… Cudgel, any ideas?
You know how there’s a ‘parliament’ of owls, a ‘murder’ of crows? Well, a group of pigeons should be called a ‘curmudgeon.’ A curmudgeon of pigeons. Don’t you think so? When they sit on a rooftop or hobble around in the park, don’t they look curmudgeony to you?
Other highlights? Well, actually, the other day I flooded the rink at the park near my dad’s house. It was really cool– and very satisfying to stand there with the hose and watch the water pool out and freeze over the messy old ice. I also lugged the hose from the building and back again, shoveled off the ice, and ordered around some college-age hockey guys. Yeah! (“GET BACK HERE and shovel, Mr. French Dude with a bad haircut!”) I didn’t actually say that to him, but I wanted to. He didn’t even shovel, he just skated off and went away with his buddies. Bleh.
Now– as another blog nears its end– again, what is the interest here? Not much, maybe. I’m not groundbreaking, nor very insightful or fascinating.
But, I AM funny! Ha ha ha!
Er… anyway. I wish you all the best, all the worst, and you know, all the normal in-between, OnceaBasementDog.