Mumsy's back yard.

This pretty much sums up my week in MN.

Tater tot!

My mom let me gift him with the regal title of "tater tot". He is very tiny, and very sweet. He crawled into my bag a few times, after he sat on my knee.

I live a very exciting life.

What was that? You want me to keep procrastinating?

This is my mom's cat Chevy a while back after he was done luxuriating in his ringworm bath.

work schmurk!

Why do school work when there's a cute kitty to post? This is my nephew, Marvin, and he is really sick with bad kidneys. This was taken after his fluid injection, and he was very unhappy.

Clearly.

some more lost writings

Rash, prairie dogs, rash, prairie dogs...I continued my quest for the answer to my current debacle. I am not too keen on rashes, but I sure do love prairie dogs. I gave up momentarily, only to find myself stepping on broken pieces of sunflower shells. Gingerly, I flicked off piece by piece of shell while questioning the idea of selling the gerbils to large blue mouse that I once met. Speaking of which, I was half expecting a phone call from the bastard.

Some old writings

"You smell that, fresh cake, sweet frosting?" A ghoulish rubber face sitted next to me demanded an answer. I ignored his pleas of validation, continuing my search for a place to hide during the zombie holocaust. As I proceeded, a lowly looking fellow took the empty seat next to me. Squeals of delight and frustrations were being emitted. I wasn't sure what to think of them, so I took the liberty of asking him to quiet down. Not more than 5 seconds after my request, the gentleman revealed a pistol that looked part shotgun and part silly putty. His down syndrome-induced grin made me think twice about my requests. A moment of whatif swept by; maybe I should have just agreed with the rubber face about the cake. Sadly, I did not have enough crazy in me to grant it. A part of me hoped to escape this predicament without a bruise, but the downs's fanny pack told me otherwise.

Allocation! Coordination!

Repeatedly, the downs mimicked my 5th grade speech teacher. I thought nothing of this encounter previously, until the fanny pack incident. Luckily, all that the fanny pack had against me was a spoon that he bent while practicing his telekinesis and a set of dentures that turn him into batman.

Goo-goo! Thruuppp!

A quick peek to my right ensured me that the cake guy was up to no good; only this time a baby was in on it. Some graphite scribbling and a trail of drool began forming on my hand. A few dots, some lines…was the baby trying to tell me something in Morse code?! Perhaps this baby…before I could continue my delusions, the anti Christ or whatever I thought it was began blubbering and drooling.

Paradise?

Each time I whine about being cold, me mums sends piccys of the dastardly MN winter. Her feeble attempts at getting me to feel bad and lame for being cold don't work. My response for these shots usually result in me questioning the white balance, then complimenting her dashboard accoutrement.

Ricky gets his Christmas wish

My mom has a disabled kitty that she takes out on excursions. His name is Ricky, and he meows deep and righteously. She pushes him in a cat stroller. I initially thought she pushed him in a baby stroller, which made me savor the imagery much more. Especially when she mentioned pushing him in the stroller with my stepdad near the elementary school by their house. She said something about how she didn't want to go by there because she didn't want the kids to point and run up to the stroller...I thought it would be she didn't want to be seen pushing a cat in a baby stroller.

Tea time kitty