Some of you may have noticed that I haven't posted lately.

Some of you came to some conclusions about that. No, I'm not sick again, I'm ok. My computer, however, is not ok. I had a total catastrophic failure of the desktop (I am on my beautiful laptop at the moment) so I sent it out for repair. Which happened, yay! and then on the return, the Post Office lost it. The Post Office has never lost anything of mine before. It wasn't insured, not that that matters, because I really don't want money, I want the data back. That was the entire point.

There is this hilarious irony in my life that every time I go to back up my data, my hard drives fail. Not a joke. I don't know why. Perhaps I am perpetually doomed to a Sisyphusian dance of recreating my artwork.

So in the meantime, I am spending my time hunting through my belongings for original software cds for reinstallation -- which are somewhere in the Garage of Holding currently being remodeled by the Man Who Moves Too Fast To Follow.

Yeah, wish me luck. And don't expect to hear from me until I'm done... lol

I love how everybody is delicately referring to the fact that none of us have any money and are making tasty nutritious snacks out of old cardboard boxes from Depression-era recipes as "The Economy."

So, in the spirit of hoisting ourselves up with our own shoelaces ("two shillings the pair, mind if I sell you a couple?"), if you have an online store, auction, or website where you sell your own stuff, add it to top of the list and pass it on. Yay! Free promotion and you make your f-list artists happy. Or promote a friend, that's cool too.

Part two, browse the links and see how enterprising your f-list is. You might even find something you like. ;)

ladycaviar  doing her best on CafePress

ladycaviar  selling her soul on eBay

Nuthatch fun stuff on CafePress (go children_of_lir !)

The amazing mrq_laurellen 's Renaissance Tailor

Myself and a friend in a noisy restaurant, waiting for a third to join us. I am stupidly attempting Small Talk for no discernible reason, and have just asked my companion what her conference served for lunch. Keep in mind we have to yell over the background noise. It doesn't help that I don't care what she ate...

Me: wait, what? euw
She: I thought you liked hummus
Me: Oh, hummus. With an H.
She: What did you think I said?
Me: Pumice. I thought maybe it was like some trendy drink, you know.
She: What the hell kind of drink would that be?
Me: A "Sandblaster." In the South, they'd make it with gin. In New York, you'd have to order a Vodka Sandblaster.
She: o_O. You really were a bartender too long, you know?
our third joins us
Third: Hey, whatcha talking about?
Me: Gin and hummus.
Third: What's that, a "Suicide Bomber?" You know, in the South, they would make it with gin...
She: Has everyone been a bartender but me?
Me and Third in unison: ayup

Mister Zonker: in sunbeam, chargin mah solar battries. all kitties are solar powered and eco-friendly. we should get extra treats for dat

Evil Geniuses: R&D not successful with cat solar cells. Bob covered with scratches and his shoes still smell like pee. Apparently, dogs powered by bacon.

Yeah.
( Fun and games in the metal shop )

Years ago, stefwithnf  told me a story about life using a metaphor of peach trees. She said we go along in life eating peaches, and dropping the pits as we walk. If we're lucky, sometimes we get to look over our shoulders and see the peach trees we've planted.

( I told you it was sappy. You were warned... )

The Man and I were laughing last night that Avian Swine flu is, of course, breeding grounds for "when pigs fly" jokes. If either of us could remember the stellar one he made last night, I'd post it. Sadly, we're brain-dead dorks today.

[It's even funnier to us because we've probably had ASF -- both of us had monster flu recently, in TX, that had us both knocked flat and dead sick (me with eventual pneumonia) for two weeks at minimum.]

So make with the lulz, mah peeps. Share ur flying pig jokes!

Today, the weather was nice, if a bit wet, and The Z chose to do his Mighty Panther impression in the enclosed backyard as he is often wont to do.

It's funnier to watch when the grass is wet, because he will carefully lift each paw to minimize the icky damp contact, and he won't stalk the grass as low as he does when it's dry so his Predator Belly doesn't get drippy. But The Mighty Panther does his rounds in the Backyard Veldt, taunting the dogs with his Catly Aromas, which waft through the fence and drive the Evil Dog Things insane -- much to the amusement of The Z.

MrZ attacks the grass with his four remaining teeth, all Siamese fangs, until he's got enough to barf back up, whereupon he prefers to return to the house to deposit said barf offerings inside on the clean tile. Just one of his quirks. Because barfing outside is Icky, you see. I think cleaning up barf is Icky, but I don't get a lot of say in this... The Z's system is The Z's system and I am merely his servant. *sigh*

Apparently, going potty outside is also out of the question. I'm not sure why. Perhaps since we don't go potty in the backyard, he won't either. Perhaps he just doesn't like anyone watching. In any case, MrZ returns inside every time. Strange cat. I didn't really think much of it today.

Until we heard a different repeating "mao" than we'd heard before. A LOUD MAO. When we looked at Z, he was wearing cement shoes. It seems that soggy paws and scoop litter is a Mafia hit on a cat.

Poor muffin. Nobody likes being cuddled in a towel by your Mama who's laughing so hard she can hardly clean your paws right. Mao! Mao! How can something so poignantly sad be so hilarious? The trauma... oh god I think I hurt my pancreas... ahahahhaahha

The cat now has his own Twitter account. However, I can't get it to post to this LJ without overriding my own, so at the moment, he also has his own rss feed. If anybody knows a windows alternative to LoudTwitter, that'd be great. Strangely, the cat also has over 500 contacts already, so I'm not the only one whose grip on reality is tenuous.

The Society of Evil Geniuses also has its own Twitter account. Insert evil madman laughter here. Good lord, I'm turning into ioseph_locksley .

Mr. Z made it back from the vet yesterday with no ill effects. The strange lump on his head was apparently just one of those benign strange lumps that 104 year old geezers just make from time to time. However, he'll go back soon for kidney function tests to find out why he is losing weight. Me, I chalk it up to The Chef no longer cooking chickens for him to his specifications, but I'm not going to take chances with my love.