Veni, Vidi, Ventus --
The randomly chaotic and crafty scribblings of a deranged, wannabe artist allowed too many colours in her Crayon box.

Surgeon General's Warning: Some content of "From Pooka's Crayon" may not be suitable for: work, blue-haired little old ladies, the politically-correct, rabid moonbats, uptight mothers, priests, chronic idiots, insurance claims agents, Democrats, children, small furry quadropeds from Alpha Centauri, or your sanity.

Tuesday, April 23, 2002

Hello, God?

"Um, hello? Is this thing on?"

"Great. Um. So. Okay. I'd like to have a few words with whoever is in charge, if you don't mind."

"Well, yes, I suppose God really is a busy being, what with the state of the world as it is and all, but couldn't he just take a few minutes to talk with a dissatisfied customer?"

"No, no, I understand that, but you see, the complaint box has a waiting line about a mile long and there's a complaint box for the complaint ... what?"

"No, I'm really not trying to be a wiseass. Yes, I realize that you're just doing your job. No, wait, don't put me on ..."

"... hold. Right. 'Stairway to Heaven,' the Muzak version. Maybe I misdialed the phone number or asked for the wrong extension, because I don't *think* that horror could be associated with ..."

"Yes, I'm sure you thank me for holding. Yes, I'm sure my time is valuable and you appreciate me as a customer. Yes, I'm sure that when I get so frustrated and go running screaming down the street totally naked that ..."

"Oh. You're back. No, of course I didn't mind waiting, I truly enjoyed having enfeebled Zepplin horking at my ear drums."

"Okay, look, I'm not asking for all that much, I just want a few short moments ... no, wait, don't transfer me to another ..."

"...extension. Sigh. Oh sweet merciful Lord, no! Not ... not ... John Tesh! Aaaargggh! All right, who's the feckin wise guy that ...."

"Yes? Oh. It's You."


"Oh. What did I want?"

"Well, I know you're really very busy and all ... but can I call a Do-Over?"

Thursday, April 11, 2002

I married him WHY?



"Uh. Don't worry."

Uh. Yeah. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.


"Look, Mammy, I colour coordinate! See -- STRIPES!" Hiyukked at me by DG as he goes outside in an outfit that even Cher would turn away from.

Blue and grey rugby, sleeves cut out. Purple and teal swim trunks.

Yep. It's laundry day.

It damn well better be, because otherwise I'm calling first his mother to chew her out for not raising him better, and then the optometrist.



DG blasting some Neil Sedakaish girly freakin weepy music on his computer while I'm trying to headbang over here on my dinky little laptop speakers -- then LEAVING THE HOUSE with it blasting -- is permissible grounds for Homicide in Self-Defense ... right?


Work with me here, dammit.

Wednesday, April 10, 2002

Stray Thoughts

I feel very random today.

Trying to read and respond, but when I get the comment pages open, my mind blanks and I come to the conclusion that nothing I would come up with to say would be worth the waste of bandwidth, particularly in response to well-worded or deep thought posts. If you're looking for responses from me and I fail you today, o/` "Just remember I love you, and it'll be all right." o/`

I ... I ... feel a song coming on.

STOP IT, no singing!

Ha ha ha. My meds have played funny trick on Pooka. Pooka now goes to bed, sleeps, and gets up. Pooka is no longer able to try to sleep late. Pooka must crawl out of bed by a certain time or funny funny meds steam eject her fat white Irish ass. Ha ha. Very funny.

How can I lose my lighter when I haven't touched it and knew where it was when I sat down? I think the cats have opposable thumbs.

This is the sound of my soul. Unfortunately, the decibel level of the sound is so painful to human ears that if they were to listen closely, their brains would implode.

Jane, you ignorant slut! Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball!

So, this squid walks into a bar ...

Thing 2 is currently having conversations with people that are not there. Since she's doing their voices for them as well, you have to listen for the falsetto, the squeaky whisper, and the deep troll voice along with her own to tell them apart. This means I'm not as worried about her as I otherwise would be.

Thing 1 did this before, too. Unfortunately, I think one of her voices had more common sense than she does.

Didn't I tell you to put that in the sink before it festers?

You've currently entered a "No Thinking Zone." Please check all grey matter at the door. Management is not responsible for anything that might happen to personal articles left behind. Small children left in lieu of grey matter will be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

No surprise, we've lost our cable again. If you no longer see me online, assume that the modem hasn't been paid for either and I'm down for the count. Do Not Panic.

Gravity just isn't what it used to be.

Music. That's what today needs. Music.

Hey, didn't I warn you already about that singing thing?

Oh you shut up. No one asked you anway.