Velcrometer
Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
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M. Giant's Velcrometer Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks |
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Thursday, November 07, 2002 When Trash’s sister Lisa lived with us, she didn’t always get along with the cats, as I mentioned yesterday. Of course, she didn’t always get along with us, either. Lisa and I had a sort of low-grade prank war going on intermittently throughout her tenure with us. Mostly that involved creative placement of a Bendy Santa™ doll. I’ll tell you more about that some other day. What I’m talking about today is the way her makeup brush kept turning up all over the house. We’d spot it in the middle of the living room floor, pick it up, and toss it into her room. We’d notice it on the center island in the kitchen, and we’d toss it into her room. We would sit on it when we sank into the basement furniture, pull it out from under our butts, put it next to us, watch our movie or whatever, forget about it, and a couple of days later toss it into her room. At first we wondered why she was being so indiscriminate about where she applied her makeup, but as time went on it became clear that she was messing with us. But neither Trash or I wanted to be the one to call her on it, since we’d been so slow to catch on to such a weak “prank.” When we woke up one morning and it was on our bed, we decided it was time to put a stop to it. Trash took the brush downstairs and tossed it into Lisa’s room, where Lisa was reading or something. “Okay, it was a little bit funny for a while,” Trash lied. Lisa was confused. “I didn’t think it was funny,” Lisa said. “I’m tired of not knowing where my makeup brush is all the time.” Now Trash was also confused. “Then why do you keep leaving it all over the house?” she said. “Why would I hide my own makeup brush from myself?” Lisa demanded. This might have gone on for days, with each accusing the other, except that Strat came into the room, spotted the makeup brush on the floor, picked it up in his teeth with a practiced snap, and dashed out. Every hair on his body announced “Mine!” “Eeeeeew!” Lisa exclaimed, as the mystery of the migrating makeup brush solved itself. She thought back to all the times she’d used it while it was moonlighting as a cat toy. She wondered how many molecules of dried cat spit she’d applied to her face, and how many feline oral cooties were setting up shop in her makeup. She said “Eeeeeew!” again. To Trash, the entire situation had just gone from not at all funny to very funny indeed. Lisa decided to let the cats keep the makeup brush, which I thought was rather generous of her under the circumstances. The brush is still in their toy collection, and it still shows up on our bed every once in a while. It hasn’t seen any makeup for a long, long time. * * * Fresh from last week’s triumph at the Kieran’s pub quiz, my team reassembled last night for the Brit’s pub quiz. Well, some of us did, at least. Trash’s coworker MC and our friend Bitter filled in the vacancies. Since we generally do a lot better at Brit’s than we do at Kieran’s, we were confident of our chances at winning first place. Do I even have to go on? We came in eleventh. I blame a variety of factors. We were sitting where we couldn’t see the quizmaster. We were cocky from last week. Our table was too small. Also, we didn’t know enough of the answers. I think it was that last one that really did us in. posted by M. Giant 3:19 PM 0 comments 0 Comments:
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