Wednesday, December 08, 2010

Ollymay On Irefay

Hi, everyone! HI! It’s me, Molly!

I want to talk to you today about this NEAT thing that some of my internet friends call ‘fire time’. They call it ‘fyur tyme’, but I looked it up when I was pretending to randomly step on Suzanne’s keyboard, and I’m pretty sure I spelled it right, so HA! Wait! Don’t tell her I can do that! If she thinks I’m too smart for my own good, she might get mad at me! I don’t want to end up back in TRAFFIC in the RAIN!

Molly? Quit worrying about being thrown into rainy traffic. What kind of monster would do something like thaaa….oh. Let me rephrase. Molly, quit worrying about Accountant Boy and I throwing you into rainy traffic.

ANYWAY, fire time is when you throw waxed paper into a drafty hole in the wall and set it on fire. The end. I don’t see the point of it, because it doesn’t make anything warmer and we don’t cook anything on it, and Winston’s afraid of it even though there’s glass between us and the fire.

There’s good stuff about fire time, though. Suzanne likes it, and she sits on the floor next to the drafty hole with the burning waxed paper, which means I get more of the couch. YES! And then, when the waxed paper stops blazing, Suzanne hits it with an iron rod and makes it burn some more so that it won’t set the house on fire while we’re asleep, which doesn’t make much sense because it’s behind glass doors the whole time and it’s not even warm on the hearth bricks. But that’s my favorite part of fire time, because then I get off the couch and sit beside her, and she opens the glass doors and we let our faces get warm together.

That’s my take on fire time! YAY! Love, Molly!

p.s. - Ixnay on the affictray alktay. See? I'm really smart, you guys! I'm learning LATIN!

* * *

I missed my knitting deadline on Pas de Valse, with only fifty-nine sleeve rounds left to go. I’m shooting for Friday now, because to Hell with the arbitrary “it’ll be this many months since I started it/since I said it’d be done/this many months since Buddy…” crap. I’d like to wear it on Friday, and I’d like to move on to a more colorful, interesting project. We’ll see how it goes.

I’ve also blown the NaBloPoMo goal for this month, and I’m not going to backdate posts to try to make up for it. I never really got behind the theme, at any rate. If I had to spend the month talking about our cultural Zeitgeist – had to spend the month talking about it – my entries would have turned into nothing more than hate-filled essays about ‘Glee’ and celebrities on Twitter and Justin Bieber, and you can find that stuff anywhere else on the web. Maybe I’ll want to talk about those things, but now I won’t have to talk about them. Ah, sweet freedom that comes with walking away from a commitment! It tastes like licorice.

1 comment:

Calvin said...

S'totally fyur tyme. Yoo don't gets it. Fyur tyme iz 'bout da relaxun n da warmf. Wippul sez itz a "stayt a beun". I dunno wut dat meenz but I tink he'z rite.