Never Fear

Vintage Pussies for Peace

Dear People of the Internets,

Lisa hasn't died. She hasn't stopped writing. We're holding her hostage until she finishes editing her manuscript. She's on page 99 after a whirlwind of editing yesterday. In the meantime, we are struggling to get her to focus. Those of you who've met her, know what we mean.

As it is, we cannot turn our collective backs on her because the minute we do, she's vacuuming or screwing around on Facebook or scrubbing and organizing. We understand that this is how she processes things, but it's damned annoying. The book is almost there.

As you may know, we can't continue our advocacy work and lying about in patches of sun without the financial support of Lisa. Left to MathMan alone, we would be out on our ten ears or sold off to be made into catgut strings for violins. We understand that we are here at Golden Manor through the begging of children and the beneficence of Lisa, so we understand the gravity of this situation. That sweet, but insane woman (have you heard that voice she uses when she talks to us?) must finish this book and find an agent and get the book published in order for us to continue to have the kibble and shelter we so richly deserve for being so heartbreakingly adorable and peace loving.

So please forgive Lisa her absence from this blog and yours. You know she's on a desktop computer now that she's lost her job. That it so our advantage. We've figured out that the thing she calls a "mouse," but is NOT(duh! daft woman!) is critical to her ability to sit at the computer and waste precious time. As long as she can't find her "mouse," we have a better chance of "encouraging" her to read and edit.

Wishing you peace and Fancy Feast for 2010, we are,

The Pussies for Peace

P.S. We've remained silent on the activities of the Obama Administration vis a vis Afghanistan, etc. because we have not achieved a consensus among ourselves. It's a little like herding cats, you know.....

On Mysteries, Just Desserts and New Fads in Exercise

Part One: A Thing of Great Import Goes Missing
I guess freaking out will not bring back my missing flash drive. That beloved little black piece of plastic with the retractable doo-hickey that gets inserted into the USB port held in its vast memory stores all my photos, the beginnings to three stories (hello, Madame Can't Finish Anything), copies of old stories, my resumes, and a variety of other important documents.

Still - freaking out might cleanse my worried mind. What if someone finds the missing flash drive and delves into the deeper directories to discover not only that stash of naked pictures, but also my secret identity. The horror! And the underground world of REDACTED will be forever altered. And not for the better.

Part Two: The Mystery of The Blue Monkey
I know someone with much more knowledge on these things will be around later to smack me around and set me straight, but perhaps the flash drive went missing as some cosmic retribution (notice I did not misuse the term karma this time) for gaslighting the two younger Royal Pains.

See - back in November, Garbo got this creepy little toy in a McDonalds Happy Meal. (Calm down. Even Mothers of the Year such as myself slip occasionally and take our children to McDonalds. We do it so that they will appreciate even more the tasty, wholesome, organic grains and sprouts normally prepared and served at home.)

Anyway, this toy became the object of conversation. It really is quite creepy, not to mention the fact that it came out of the packaging with its blue tail poised just like a penis peeking through its legs. Naturally, we had great fun with that concept for about five minutes. It was soon forgotten and cast aside. Penis humor doesn't have a very long shelf life when there are French Fries to be snarfed.

When we moved, the Little Blue Flying Monkey was unearthed. There was renewed interest in his odd creepiness and that sinister smile playing about its lips. It was swung around by the cloth tail/psuedo-penis. Wicked tales of his gadabout nature among the other blue flying monkeys spun out of The Royal Pains' imaginations. Suddenly, The Actor/Ninja became serious and whispered gravely to his sister "What if this toy is possessed like Chucky? I mean, how did it just reappear?"

I could hear them, but they didn't know I was listening. I was sitting on the other side of the wall, working away on my laptop.

Garbo was quiet as she considered what The Actor/Ninja has suggested. "Oh, this dumb old thing was just buried. I found it because Mom made me sort through toys when we moved in," she dismissed his attempt to stir up her fears.

Now The Actor/Ninja is like I was as a kid. He enjoys a good fright, as long as he knows it's not really going to hurt anyone. Did I ever tell you about the time two of my girlfriends and I spent the night in the haunted house next door to hers?

"I don't know....." The Actor/Ninja ventured, "We could test it. Let's throw it away and see what happens."

Now I could tell that he'd captured Garbo's fancy. "You mean, see if it comes back? No! Um, wait. Oh, okay. I don't like that toy anyway. It gives me the creeps!"

And since then, the Little Blue Flying Monkey has been tossed in the trash, hidden in boxes and then buried under all manner of gross garbage, only to reappear sitting on The Actor/Ninja's bookcase, on the top of the toilet tank in the hallway restroom, next to Garbo's television and even on The Actor/Ninja's pillows.

Part Three: Oh, Yes. I Will Be Trying This At Home
From my pal Suzy. Catworkout.
I've been looking for something that The Pussies for Peace and I can do together that doesn't involve licking our own butts or killing bugs. Catworkout is definitely the answer! Thank you, Suzy!

Power lifting this guy should put an end to the wobble where my triceps should be, don't you think?

The end.


Listerine Ad comes from Found in Mom's Basement.

Look at This!

Oh, dear lord, you think. What is she doing now?

Well, remember that whole gotta get some work done now that I'm taking on new duties at the paid job thing?

That. That's what I'm up to. So instead of attempting to pound out a few meaningful words that will ultimately fall short of their mark and leave us all wishing we had those eighty seconds back, I will do to you the same thing I do to MathMan when he seems to want to engage on some meaningful level and all I want to do is just stare out the window and breathe through my mouth while thinking of absolutely nothing.

I show him my pussy.

This one just complies because the kibble is worth it.

This one would prefer that we just go away. For good. But leave food. The good stuff.

I know, the joke's getting old, isn't it? Oh, well, come back later and I'll show you pictures of shaved beaver.

See you in a bit.............