Saturday, January 04, 2003

Uncle Jack~~is Rambo's new best friend. Jack is not really Rambo's uncle, I just call him that. It's just one of those things. I am not really Dan's mommy, we just pretend I am. Tess is not really my niece, although me being an only child I could never be an Auntie, and this is pretend, too. Rambo is the real uncle of Jennifer, my granddaughter. A Rottweiler and a fuzzy-faced mutt are my granddogs, which makes them, of course, Jennifer's sisters. Jim, who is my son-in-law is Rambo's brother-in-law. Allritey then, that takes care of that.

I am of course, the Queen Bee.

But I digress. After Rambo notifies me the newspaper has arrived and I open the door to get it, he leaps out into the hallway and runs down to the end of the hall to "Uncle Jack's" apartment. An imperious Meow lets him in. Jack leaves the door open so Rambo won't feel trapped, but no problem-o----Rambo is totally jazzed by the great variety of things to snif and investigate at Jack's place, not to mention the little snackies Jack has for him. He spends about an hour or so schmoozing and sniffing at Jack's place, then gallops back home and yells for me to let him in.

This is such a great arrangement. Rambo is disgustingly cheerful in the morning. I am not. All I want to do is sip coffee and read my newspaper. Now that he's not home to bug me to play, or whining about something (who knows what), I have this marvelous hour or so of peace and quiet. Added bonus---Rambo is exhausted after all that excitemen and crashes on the bed for a nap.

My cup runneth over.
posted by Lorraine 1:49 PM 
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Thursday, January 02, 2003

Proud to be American~~Everyone seems to be wondering why Muslim terrorists are so quick to commit suicide. Let's see now.

No beer, no booze, no bars, no television, no movies, no baseball, no football, no basketball, no golf, no tailgate parties, No hooters, no pork BBQ, no hot dogs, no burgers, no french fries, no shopping malls, no Barnes & Noble, no Starbucks, no pizza.

Rags for clothes and diapers for hats. Constant wailing from the guy next door because he's sick and there are no doctors. Constant wailing from the guy in the tower. No chocolate chip cookies, No Christmas tree..

You can't shave, your wife can't shave, you can't shower to wash off the smell of donkey cooked over burning camel dung. The women have to wear baggy dresses and veils at all times. Your bride is picked by someone else. She smells just like your donkey. But your donkey has a better disposition.

Then they tell you that when you die it all gets better!

No mystery here.
posted by Lorraine 6:58 PM 
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Wednesday, January 01, 2003

Hippy, Hippy, Happy~~New Year. Words of wisdom from the Ageless One (me) -- Do not forget to write the correct year on your checks, starting today. It is now 2003, in case you're wondering.. Wow, am I glad it's over till I can start complaining about the excesses of Christmas again next year. Yup.

I have a couple of New Year's resolutions. The usual--yawn--blather about really, really losing some weight, and as you know, the first four hours are the hardest. Those would be that interminable time between orange juice, coffee and a piece of dry toast -------then finally! -- lunch, which would consist of a cheeseburger, onion rings, hot fudge sundae and a Diet coke. I am still contemplating any other resolutions. Actually, I don't much care for resolutions.

I really enjoyed this quote from the cartoon "Pickles" when the elder husband says to his wife, "I stopped to think and forgot to start again". Whoooo, I can relate to that!!
posted by Lorraine 9:57 AM 
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