Why I'm Happy I Don't Have To Go To Jail, or The Evil Scientist Named Mac
So this weekend I had the divine pleasure of attending my sister's PhD dissertation presentation. It was sensational, of course. I understood only about half of it, but still. I could tell on account of the other people in the room. The other Scientists, and stuff. Then she went off to two hours of grilling for the dreaded defense. It went well apparently, since she passed. Then there was champagne, and cookies, and unicorns in a parade, and I got to maim her advisor. Oh wait. No, that didn't happen 'cept in my head. Her advisor is, to put it politely, a giant throbbing prick. As a matter of fact my dear sister fears her one-year-old son's first words might be something to that effect. This "advisor" has made her life for the last 8 years not unlike a barium enema: it has to be done, it's cold, and the nurse's hands feel like 120 grit sandpaper, but when it's over you've never felt better in your life. Well, almost just like that anyway.
I was afeared I'd have to put on black grease paint and don my ninja black to go slash his tires. Problem: I don't actually own ninja blacks, so I'd have to use one of my tuxes. Fortunately this was not necessary as he passed my sister on the defense. If not you'd be hearing about in the papers, under the headline BROTHER STRIKES, KILLS SCIENTIST WITH BAROQUE BASSOON. ALTHOUGH -sorry- Although that then dangles a participle and it sounds like he had the bassoon not me. You get the drift though.
Crowning the stress of the weekend was the horror I'd sworn I'd never again endure. You all know it, and fear it:
Car Trip With The Parents.
I'm breaking into a sweat just typing it. I had a concert in Atlanta and they attended. Then we all three piled into the Dadmobile and drove SEVEN HOURS to Raleigh. But we stopped for the night somewhere near Charlotte. I damn near had to stay in their hotel room, but as I had devolved and had begun drooling and singing Tibetan Buddhist chant (throat singing!) my father wisely got me my own room.
The driving the next day was, frankly, not unlike a roller coaster. Dad gets periously close to the car in front of us, we scream, its all over. He begins coughing to the point of almost passing out, but refuses REFUSES to pull over and let me drive. Better dead than to have to sit in the back seat, apparently. Which of us, I wonder, gets the dubious pleasure of stealing his car keys when he finally can no longer locomote via automobile? Not it! I nominate the nephew, since he's cute and unassuming. I'm reasonably sure dad wouldn't do to him what he threatened to do to me if I tried to take the keys. I'll recommend the nephew take a can of mace just to be safe.
In other news, the cat has yet to dislodge what must be a terrier-sized hairball in his alimentary tract. What a pleasant noise he makes trying to cough it up! I'm sure the Great Almighty, in His Infinite Wisdom, thought to Himself "Hey, I'll make cats kinda cute but evil. They'll purr sweetly, but when copulating I'll make them so they sound like..... well...ummm.....cats in heat. Then for good measure they need to make a disturbing hacking sound when dislodging terrier-sized hairballs. Perfect!" At least he's learned to clean his hiney.
The cat, not the Great I Am. Seriously.
This ends my first blog. Ite, missa est.
kisses,
Keith
I was afeared I'd have to put on black grease paint and don my ninja black to go slash his tires. Problem: I don't actually own ninja blacks, so I'd have to use one of my tuxes. Fortunately this was not necessary as he passed my sister on the defense. If not you'd be hearing about in the papers, under the headline BROTHER STRIKES, KILLS SCIENTIST WITH BAROQUE BASSOON. ALTHOUGH -sorry- Although that then dangles a participle and it sounds like he had the bassoon not me. You get the drift though.
Crowning the stress of the weekend was the horror I'd sworn I'd never again endure. You all know it, and fear it:
Car Trip With The Parents.
I'm breaking into a sweat just typing it. I had a concert in Atlanta and they attended. Then we all three piled into the Dadmobile and drove SEVEN HOURS to Raleigh. But we stopped for the night somewhere near Charlotte. I damn near had to stay in their hotel room, but as I had devolved and had begun drooling and singing Tibetan Buddhist chant (throat singing!) my father wisely got me my own room.
The driving the next day was, frankly, not unlike a roller coaster. Dad gets periously close to the car in front of us, we scream, its all over. He begins coughing to the point of almost passing out, but refuses REFUSES to pull over and let me drive. Better dead than to have to sit in the back seat, apparently. Which of us, I wonder, gets the dubious pleasure of stealing his car keys when he finally can no longer locomote via automobile? Not it! I nominate the nephew, since he's cute and unassuming. I'm reasonably sure dad wouldn't do to him what he threatened to do to me if I tried to take the keys. I'll recommend the nephew take a can of mace just to be safe.
In other news, the cat has yet to dislodge what must be a terrier-sized hairball in his alimentary tract. What a pleasant noise he makes trying to cough it up! I'm sure the Great Almighty, in His Infinite Wisdom, thought to Himself "Hey, I'll make cats kinda cute but evil. They'll purr sweetly, but when copulating I'll make them so they sound like..... well...ummm.....cats in heat. Then for good measure they need to make a disturbing hacking sound when dislodging terrier-sized hairballs. Perfect!" At least he's learned to clean his hiney.
The cat, not the Great I Am. Seriously.
This ends my first blog. Ite, missa est.
kisses,
Keith
posted by Keith | 10:18 PM
2 Comments:
I am SO proud. I shall immediately link your blog to mine, we'll be practically related. Bring on the champagne! (Okay, how about Pepsi?)
May I also say that I like the "oldey timey" look of your blog? If only there were faux char marks around the edges.
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