Well, dear readers, today would be a good day to send all those Hainsies/Kimlets good vibes. Send them through tomorrow and hopefully by then I will be suffused with good vibedom and all will be well here in my part of the world. Later today I shall be picking up my laundry. Wasn’t that a good segue? It is good that I will be picking up my laundry because I was just about out of clothing to wear. Why, if I wasn’t picking up my laundry today I would be going to work in various states of undress. Have you ever been in the state of undress? It’s a nice state but it has not been recognized yet as part of these here United States. I say this must be rectified, oh, yes, I say this must be rectified. We must have a rectified state of undress. I don’t know about you, but I find something very unpleasant about the word “rectified”. I do not like any word that starts off with “rect”. I don’t know why, I just don’t. I Don’t Know Why I Just Don’t was also a song by Meltz and Ernest. Here it is:
I DON’T KNOW WHY, I JUST DON’T Music by Hinky Meltz Lyrics by Ernest Ernest
There’s an old saying
I’ve heard in the past
When you don’t like someone
Romance cannot last
I’ve taken this opportunity
To give my thoughts some unity
So, I think I can say with impunity
My thoughts on this matter
Here they are, on a platter
Do I ever miss you
I don’t know why, I just don’t
Do I want to kiss you
I don’t know why, I just don’t
Could it be that little moustache
Did that do the trick, dear?
Girls who have moustaches
Really kind of make me sick, dear
And do I admire you
I don’t know why, I just don’t
And do I desire you
I don’t know why, I just don’t
Could it be that giant honker
That you call a nose, dear?
Or your flabby tummy
That you hide with baggy clothes, dear
It wasn’t always so
It wasn’t always thus
Once you looked but quite delightful
But now you look like a bus
Do I want your charms, dear
I don’t know why, I just don’t
To be in your arms, dear
I don’t know why, I just don’t
Could it be those little buttons
That you call a bust, dear
Or your ingrown toenails
Well, I think it really must, dear
I’ve said it all
You’ve heard me plain
Our love affair
Is down the drain
Do I want to ravish and revere you
Always to be near you
I don’t know why, I just don’t.
Isn’t that a marvelous Meltz and Ernest song? One of their best, I think. Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below because I’ve got to make tracks, don’t you know?
Yesterday I had a chicken salad sandwich on rye bread with a slice of cheese on it. Cole slaw on the side. A pickle. When I got home I was still full from lunch, so I had some Chex mix. Later, I ate some gummi candies I bought at Gelson’s. Oh, yeah, I had an ice cream sandwich, too. It was yummilicious.
Last night I had a long chat with our very own Mr. Mark Bakalor. Mr. Bakalor is a bit of an expert on the Internet. He has suggested strongly (as have some of you dear readers) that I bite my tongue and ignore the people who are posting about Juliana. As you all know, I was trying to do that, but yesterday I went off the wagon (no mean feat). But the point he made is actually something I ended up posting yesterday: You cannot win with people like this. They crave the attention, that’s why they do what they do. I simply hate injustice and I simply hate bad behavior – it irks me, it rankles me. I think people deserve to be taken to task when they behave poorly. So, I always think, well, if you give ’em a little of their own medicine. But that’s what Mr. Bakalor’s real point was – that’s what they love, that’s what they’re after. Some people have such non-lives that the Internet has become the only world for them – they can say the most specious awful things and not be held accountable. That is disgusting, but it is a fact of life. The bigger fact of life (and one I must take to heart) is that if you ignore them, they get bored like the little children that they are, and they move on to try to annoy someone else. So, I will not be responding to them, no matter what they do. As I’ve said, I hadn’t responded in the last couple of weeks, despite their vain attempts to cause trouble, and no one else had either. And in the last Juliana update thread there were exactly two posts by the two biggest troublemakers. No one responded and that was the end of it. So, even though I hate injustice and bad behavior, even thought it irks and rankles me, I will go cold turkey and not respond.
For those who missed the interesting revelations about our Uncouth Interloper, please take time to read the late posts of last night, especially dear reader Susan’s post. It was very brave of her to do what she did and it will help you understand what we’ve been dealing with for the last year. But, heeding Mr. Bakalor’s advice once again, let’s just not feed the animal – no matter what. This creep will do anything to make problems – so from now on if he does his “thing” let’s not feed the animal. Even if he does what he did yesterday, and forges a post, let’s not feed the animal. We all know what’s going on and what we’re dealing with. If I absolutely must, I will pull any offensive posts, but even that I’d rather not do. This psycho is not worth our time, and I’m hoping that Mr. Bakalor is right and that this will work. We have too much fun here to let this little wazoo disrupt things. So, I will be on my honor, and you be too. A simple “Don’t feed the animal” will suffice whenever something untoward gets posted. So it is written, so it shall be done. What am I, Cecil B. DeMille all of a sudden?
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must work all the livelong day, I must hopefully get a nice phone call at some point, I must eat various and sundried foodstuffs, and I must come home and sit on my couch like so much fish. Today’s topic of discussion: An oldie but goodie – if you could plan a dinner party and invite anyone you wanted to (living, of course – corpses at dinner parties are no fun), who would you invite and what would you serve them. Also, tell us about each and every meal or foodstuff you eat all during this fine Tuesday.