ANY MINUTE NOW, STALKERS, MASHERS AND WEIRDOS, SO DON'T EVEN THINK OF TRYING TO EASE YOUR WAY IN THROUGH A WINDOW WHILE I'M NOT LOOKING.
Heh heh, that sounds paranoid.
Okay, but if I say that I've been a little bit nervous at night, I'll sound like a big, overgrown baby, right? Well, I'M NO BABY. That's right. I'm a GROWN ASS WOMAN, and I fear nothing! Yes, I am a LIONESS who does what is necessary to protect her CHILDREN!
I will, however, make the following recommendation: don't read POST-APOCALYPTIC fiction RIGHT before bed (click HERE to learn about The Year Of The Flood by Margaret Atwood).
It's almost always going to be creepy.
I mean, come on--does anyone ever write a post-apocalyptic book wherein everything's really nice, and zen and happy after the world gets ravaged by a PANDEMIC, or NUCLEAR BOMB, or after almost all life has been destroyed by the stupidity of man? Is there ever a book in this genre in which things get BETTER? Maybe only the 'bad' people get wiped out by the super bug, so all the evil corporations are gone, and the nice people live in harmony in their new, greener, healthier Earth?
Pfft...I don't think so.
And let me tell you something people: when the APOCALYPSE COMES, you women better get yourselves a BIG STRONG MAN, because those dudes who survived the bad times ARE NO GENTLEMEN!! Hoo...let's not think about it.
And let me tell you something else people: I officially HATE zombies. They're almost as boring as Vampires wearing sexy, skin-tight leather clothes. I should have done a whole post on how retarded I think zombies are, and how I'm so sick of hearing about how we should all prepare for the ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE, and WHAT CAN WE DO TO SURVIVE THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE???
But I digress...
Anyhoo, as I was saying, one can get some serious heebie jeebies at night time, that aren't necessarily there when the sun is shining and the birds are singing. I was getting ready for bed the other night, and it sounded EXACTLY like someone was coming up the stairs. My whole body prickled. I got the bathroom scissors ready in hand--and slightly open, if you must know. Much pointier that way, and DOUBLE THE PRONG ACTION, my friends. Turns out, it was only FATTY, the more rotund of my two cats.
|Fatty's real name is "Tiger." The Man named her. I like "Fatty" Better though.|
|oh look at that FAT LITTLE THING! Who's a FAT LITTLE THING? A-Whuzza Whuzza... Look at that Fat little kitty! Is you a fat little kitty? Oh yes you is! coochy coochy coochy!|
Anyhow, apparently Fatty is heavy enough to cause the stairs to creek like a human. Don't judge me. My other cat is slim and fairly high-strung.
So, after that, I was a little...shall we say UNNERVED, and I decided to take some precautions.
The next morning, when the kids came scampering out of bed and busted in to my sanctuary, just as they were hopping on the bed, they discovered this
|That's RIGHT, BITCHES: anyone who STEPS UP TO ME is going to get a MOTHERTRUCKING ROLLING PIN TO THE HEAD|
So, the kids spotted it on The Man's pillow. And they started laughing. In fact, they thought it was rather hilarious;
"Mo-om! You have a ROLLING PIN on Daddy's side of the bed!"
Me: "that's right, children. Meet your NEW DAD."
Then Ella slid her hands under the pillow;
"And a PHONE UNDER THE PILLOW?!?"
They both had a good laugh over this. What? If some dirt bag is busy laying his shoulder into your back door, are you going to sit back and CRY, or are you going to WHIP THAT CORDLESS PHONE OUT FROM UNDER THE PILLOW AND DIAL 911?
Yeah. Looks like SOME of us are SURVIVORS.
Okay, so maybe the kids were right. Maybe I was being a little bit ridiculous. After all, this rolling pin is nothing like The Man. It's just a solid chunk of wood.
Something was missing.
So, I dressed it up a little. I think it's a pretty good likeness, myself--and almost as useful as my REAL husband, HAW, HAW, HAW! Whattaya think?
|"I'm still only going to clean the litter box twice a week, no matter the stank."|
Ella: "MOM, this rolling pin is NOT our Dad. It's a ROLLING PIN, for ROLLING DOUGH."
Jack: "how do you know it's a rolling pin?"
Ella: "I know EVERYTHING."
Jack (copying her): "I know EVERYTHING."
Ella: "JACK! SHUT UP!" (racing after him with pure rage)
Jack: "MONSTER! AAAAAAAAH!"
Then they cracked their heads together by accident, which was followed by much wailing.
I don't care what the kids say. I'll take The Wood Rolling Pin Man to bed tonight too. He's the strong silent type, and he makes wicked good pie pastry.