A Death Revisited

Mar 28, 2007

A death.

I killed someone last night, friends. I am very sad about this and actually lost sleep over it. I have managed to drive for 9 years without ever killing anything that I know of with the hardness of my fast moving vehicle. I was driving home early this morning and I saw a possum crossing on my right, still on the road, but out of death's way. When I pulled my eyes back to the road in front of me, there she was, a little possum wife following behind her husband and I ran her the hell over. Both the front and back tires got a taste of death and they too were sad.

I imagined the possum husband coming over and nudging his wife, now souless and gutless on the street, realizing that he had lost the smelliest, best girl he could've ever asked for. "She had the red, beady eyes of an angel" I could hear him say. He jots down the license number from my car on his note pad so he can do a scan of my plates later. I know there will be hell to pay.

Last night I prayed that it was as fast and painless as could be if ever there was a car to run over you. I had a lot to eat last night, so the car was really heavy and I was speeding. I did not even have the guts to go back and see if I had done the job right.

I am sorry possum animal that I killed your lady. She will forever be in my heart and partially in my grill. And on my fender.

Union, West Virginia Meets Photoshop

My Office Matey

Yes, yes I did tie a carnation around his collar.  I think Clyde liked it.  My boss, his owner, did not.  Kill joy.

Knock-Knock...

A swatch of a phone conversation from last night:


SOLWGTHAL*:  "I have a joke for you that involves cat-scans."


Me: "Oh?  Do tell!"


SOLWGTHAL:  "You know what I say, if I've lost my sense of humor, I've lost everything."


Me: "Absolutely."


SOLWGTHAL: "An old man brings his very sick dog to the vet one day.  The vet takes the dog back into the operating room and leaves the old man out front in the waiting area.  Three hours later, the doctor returns and reports that the dog has died.  "How can this be doctor?" asked the old man. "Well," the doctor explained, "I gave him a shock to the heart and he came around.  Then, I sent him to get a cat scan, and well, he died."


Me: "... {brain is on fire, scanning through a life time of punch lines requiring abstract thought and logic sequencing (smells of burning rubber, honestly). brain stem is rattling from the neurological strain.  scenes from jr. high running through my head.  small babies. thimbles.  cankles and the roaring 20's.  nothing. comes. to. mind}


SOLWGTHAL: *cackling, hacking and arthritic knee slapping ensues*


[Insert 5 seconds of no dialog here]


Me: "Forgive me, but I don't get it? Can you help me out?"


SOLWGTHAL: *rolls eyes* "It means that the cat circled the dog and it died. The cat scan killed the dog. Is your brain on Holiday, Amanda?"

****************************************************

Oh, the irony of being neurally slapped around by someone who counted a total of 9 lions and 3 peacocks out her bedroom window last spring.  It's her world; we're just drooling in it.





*SOLWGTHAL-  Sweet Older Lady Who Goes To the Hospital A Lot.

Anniversary Q&A *

1. What is your favorite childhood memory? 

I suppose some people would say something to the effect of, "Beach side family board-games in Maui" but, those are boring people leading boring lives.  

Now, I've been thinking about this awhile and a specific memory I can recall are the early mornings that I would get up for school, angry at the cursed world for burdening me with an early-childhood education and would immediately throw myself downstairs to perch on the large floor heat register and bake my buns until they were hot and cross. 

That is genuinely a happy memory for me.  Don't judge me.  Judge my parents.  

2. What music makes your heart sing? Why?  

I think I've mentioned before that I am amorous towards Michael Buble' and his crooner tone.  "Song for You" and his "Georgia on my Mind" were playing on my iPod this morning coming into work.  All types of music appeal to me at different times.  Like when I am working out, who doesn't get motivated by a little Rocky IV soundtrack?  

Bonnie Raitt.  You know when you hear that woman sing that she means it.  There is sincerity in her lyric and tone.  Listening to her makes me know for certain she could not make Him love Her.

3. What place would you like to travel to the least?

New Jersey.  Terrible people live there.  France too. 

4. How do you relax? What hobby recharges you? 

I relax typically away from people, either just being outside in the fall or summer, or inside making all manner of non-sense that will never see the light of day.  I feel like when I pass away, people will go through my belongings and find all of my half-completed projects and comment, "Wow, that Amanda!  Look at this collage of soup can tops she was converting into place mats!"  Pipes up another, "Uhh, was she trying to bedazzle the side of her food processor?" But you already know I'm crafty.

5. How excited are you that your blog has turned One-Year-Old today?

Well, I am very excited.  Thank you for asking.  I was just looking back at some old posts and I came upon my very first blog, October 21rst, 2009.  It was an online recipe instructing one on how to make bloody running shoes. 

You come here to be enlightened, I know. 

[Thank you, everyone, for your participation in my blogging forum.  By leaving your good-natured comments, pointing out various grammatical errors, participating in my online sweepstakes, and submitting your questions to be answered in my weekly column that is never a weekly column, you have inadvertently made my life richer.  I hope my writing efforts do the same for you, in weird and cultish ways of course.]

*Props to This Lovely Lady for providing the probing questions.  My blog feedback would be a pile of rubble without her thoughtful commentry. Yes, commentry. 

Visitor No. Two

My second furry visitor in two weeks.  I could just kiss her face. And I do. We go spidee hunting in the garage. She finds the spidees, barks, and I smack the life out of them.  

The End. 

Clyde and his no-good, very bad behavior.

No captions needed. 

Any basket-weavers out there? 

 And, any good homes for naughty dogs?