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Nov. 16th, 2003 07:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apocalypsosSo I went and did tourist thingies today, which involved going to the National Museum of Natural History and pretending I hadn't ever been there before. This is always fun, since that way, I can do that awe-filled "Wow! I never knew that!" reaction thing. And let's face it ... that utterly cool feeling of wonder and child-like amazement completely offset the squirming I kept having to do because I was stupid enough to wear my crotch-rider Old Navy corduroy flares today. Yeah, smooth move, asshat.
Anyway, the museum. I really need to do more museum-type stuff, because every time I go, I wish I had a little kid just so I could teach them all sorts of new and interesting things. Of course, it'd have to be my kid, because I'm pretty sure I'd so totally make shit up if it wasn't my kid. "Oh, what's that a skeleton of? Ummm ... Wacko Warner. Yeah, that's why you only see reruns of the Animaniacs anymore. Dot and Yacko got seriously pissed at him one day, skinned him, ate him, and sold the leftovers to the Smithsonian." By the way, I'm available for babysitting on the weekends.
There were the usual asshats, of course. One woman totally got on my nerves, and I presume her daughter's as well, in the insect zoo. I was looking at the black widow spider when the woman and her little girl walk up, and I hear this ...
Woman: (pointing) See that little red dot on its stomach? (starts to walk away)
Daughter: Mom, what is that?
Woman: It's a black widow spider. C'mon --
Daughter: How do you know that?
Woman: It says so on the glass.
Daughter: (rolls her eyes) Yes, I know that, Mom, but how do you know that if you see one in real life?
Jesus, woman, take five seconds and teach your fucking kid something. I had to restrain myself from explaining it to her. (Which I so should have done. Heck, I helped out a kid in the dinosaur exhibit. It turns out that I can still say "pachycephelasaurus" without missing a beat.)
I picked myself up a cute little shirt with a koala on it, and then I got![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
qnotku a coloring book with Japanese geishas which caught my eye for being Of The Pretty. Oh, and you know those lollipops with the crickets in 'em? I got one each for qnotku, hundakleptisis, and tree220, who left hers on the dining room table.
You know, I'd go get it, but somewhere between the cricket frozen forever in a rectangular block of grape lollipop and our cockroach problems, I'm just a little afraid I'm going to go out there and find the cricket quivering in the lap of a cockroach dressed like an itty bitty intergalactic bounty hunter.
********
This entry absolutely killed me, mostly because it reminds me of a time when I was in high school and my grandmother was still alive.
My grandma, aunt Phyllis, mom and dad, and my little brother (who was maybe about seven at the time) were hanging out playing gin one night, and Oliver was soaking up all the attention he could get. Oliver was like that ... a sweetheart, but a spoiled, purebred snob. He wanted you to pet him, and never ever stop. Stopping was only allowed if you keeled over and died, and even then, he'd give you a dirty look and quite possibly sneeze on you. A lot.
So my dad hears this fluttering sound coming from the laundry room, and he opens the door. Big mistake, as a bat proceeds to fly out into the house.
Chaos, to no one's surprise, breaks incredibly loose.
My gran freaks and hugs Bryan for dear life, my aunt is suddenly nowhere to be found, and my mom is trying to keep the bat away from the cats. Meanwhile, my father has grabbed a broom and is chasing after it trying to whack it out of mid-air like a rogue Bludger.
And then there's Oliver.
Mr. Perfectly Poised is sitting calm and curious in the center of the living room, wondering why the hell no one is petting him. In flies the bat.
My spoiled rotten purebred Himalayan proceeded to leap four feet in the air from a sitting position and catch the bat in his mouth.
My father races in to find Oliver casually sitting there with this bat in his mouth flapping wildly. He yells, "Oliver, spit that out!"
Oliver spits it out. My father whacks it with the broom, and WAM! Dead bat.
When my parents told me the story when I came home from work, I sat Oliver down and said, "Look, bats can have rabies, so let's not catch them in our mouths anymore, all right?"
My cat proceeded to give me a look that quite clearly stated, "Well, if that Homer Simpson knockoff you've got feeding me breakfast hadn't let the little bastard into the house, I wouldn't have had to catch him, would I?"
It's bloody annoying when your cat wins an argument, you know.
**********
In other news, new QE on Tuesday! Which meant there was a QE marathon today and I missed all of it save for bits of the George episode. Aw, nuts.
"Do you know why they call it a mock neck? Because people make fun of you when you wear it."
*snerk*
Anyway, the museum. I really need to do more museum-type stuff, because every time I go, I wish I had a little kid just so I could teach them all sorts of new and interesting things. Of course, it'd have to be my kid, because I'm pretty sure I'd so totally make shit up if it wasn't my kid. "Oh, what's that a skeleton of? Ummm ... Wacko Warner. Yeah, that's why you only see reruns of the Animaniacs anymore. Dot and Yacko got seriously pissed at him one day, skinned him, ate him, and sold the leftovers to the Smithsonian." By the way, I'm available for babysitting on the weekends.
There were the usual asshats, of course. One woman totally got on my nerves, and I presume her daughter's as well, in the insect zoo. I was looking at the black widow spider when the woman and her little girl walk up, and I hear this ...
Woman: (pointing) See that little red dot on its stomach? (starts to walk away)
Daughter: Mom, what is that?
Woman: It's a black widow spider. C'mon --
Daughter: How do you know that?
Woman: It says so on the glass.
Daughter: (rolls her eyes) Yes, I know that, Mom, but how do you know that if you see one in real life?
Jesus, woman, take five seconds and teach your fucking kid something. I had to restrain myself from explaining it to her. (Which I so should have done. Heck, I helped out a kid in the dinosaur exhibit. It turns out that I can still say "pachycephelasaurus" without missing a beat.)
I picked myself up a cute little shirt with a koala on it, and then I got
qnotku a coloring book with Japanese geishas which caught my eye for being Of The Pretty. Oh, and you know those lollipops with the crickets in 'em? I got one each for qnotku, hundakleptisis, and tree220, who left hers on the dining room table. You know, I'd go get it, but somewhere between the cricket frozen forever in a rectangular block of grape lollipop and our cockroach problems, I'm just a little afraid I'm going to go out there and find the cricket quivering in the lap of a cockroach dressed like an itty bitty intergalactic bounty hunter.
********
This entry absolutely killed me, mostly because it reminds me of a time when I was in high school and my grandmother was still alive.
My grandma, aunt Phyllis, mom and dad, and my little brother (who was maybe about seven at the time) were hanging out playing gin one night, and Oliver was soaking up all the attention he could get. Oliver was like that ... a sweetheart, but a spoiled, purebred snob. He wanted you to pet him, and never ever stop. Stopping was only allowed if you keeled over and died, and even then, he'd give you a dirty look and quite possibly sneeze on you. A lot.
So my dad hears this fluttering sound coming from the laundry room, and he opens the door. Big mistake, as a bat proceeds to fly out into the house.
Chaos, to no one's surprise, breaks incredibly loose.
My gran freaks and hugs Bryan for dear life, my aunt is suddenly nowhere to be found, and my mom is trying to keep the bat away from the cats. Meanwhile, my father has grabbed a broom and is chasing after it trying to whack it out of mid-air like a rogue Bludger.
And then there's Oliver.
Mr. Perfectly Poised is sitting calm and curious in the center of the living room, wondering why the hell no one is petting him. In flies the bat.
My spoiled rotten purebred Himalayan proceeded to leap four feet in the air from a sitting position and catch the bat in his mouth.
My father races in to find Oliver casually sitting there with this bat in his mouth flapping wildly. He yells, "Oliver, spit that out!"
Oliver spits it out. My father whacks it with the broom, and WAM! Dead bat.
When my parents told me the story when I came home from work, I sat Oliver down and said, "Look, bats can have rabies, so let's not catch them in our mouths anymore, all right?"
My cat proceeded to give me a look that quite clearly stated, "Well, if that Homer Simpson knockoff you've got feeding me breakfast hadn't let the little bastard into the house, I wouldn't have had to catch him, would I?"
It's bloody annoying when your cat wins an argument, you know.
**********
In other news, new QE on Tuesday! Which meant there was a QE marathon today and I missed all of it save for bits of the George episode. Aw, nuts.
"Do you know why they call it a mock neck? Because people make fun of you when you wear it."
*snerk*
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no subject
My cat used to chase anything that flew or crawled. These days, though, he just watches from afar. Very intetnly, but from afar. We think some bug might have bit him.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 08:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-11-16 07:12 pm (UTC)but I don't do bugs and besides if I brought it to my room Whisper would go crazy trying to figure out how to get the bug out to play with it.
0:-(