Royal Pain in the ...
I did not know Prince Charles and That Woman were going to be in my neck of the woods today.
Apparently they spent the day in Philly yesterday, with HRH caressing the Liberty Bell. This morning, Fred and Gladys will be heading to New York in a private railway car.
I woke up on a cranky frame of mind. I know where the train line is. No doubt there will be dozens of mush-brained middle-aged bats lined up along the route, waving and curtsying.
Personally, I'd like to go, about face, and drop trou, but I have better things to do. Scraping poo out of the litter box is one of them.
Really, don't they know "The Queen" is still playing here? Don't they know what a crawling, sniveling weasel the Prince of Wales looks like? I've read reviews by the British press that call "The Queen" hilariously funny, but when I went to see it, there was maybe one wry snicker in the house.
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Fax, My Ass
I have a fax machine on the floor next to my desk. This morning, Dylan is being especially needy and clingy. He's gotten up in my lap, but that's not enough. He wants more, more, more.
I gently put him back down on the floor. He backed into the fax. I heard a whirring noise, the fax came to life, and Dylan looked at me in panic. He's okay but he sent a fax with his butt.
