Mrs. Wigglebottom Gets Down

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Oh, The Weather Outside is Frightful, But the Chicago Firefighters are So Delightful

When I got home today, I had a copy of the 2010 Chicago Firefighters calendar, with a half-naked Tiny Cat Pants commenter as Mr. January! I went to hang it up in the kitchen, but I was told that I simply may not put that calendar where other men will have to see it and feel bad about themselves.

I’m going to put it up in the garage, I think, so I can look at it while I’m hanging out in there, doing woman things.

Ha.

Anyway, if you like looking at half-naked firefighters (and who doesn’t?), when this site comes back on line, you can catch it here.

Thanks, Sam!

Christmas Chaos

“Christmas Chaos.” That’s got to be a WWE pay-per-view, right?

Anyway, my other brother has stepped up to the plate and agreed to go get his own son and bring him here for Christmas. So, I’m planning on taking my parents to the park tomorrow, instead of driving with them to North Carolina. They bought me a new mattress and box springs for Christmas. This is very nice of them, but I don’t feel like my current mattress and box springs are not holding up or something. But they say that I am crazy and the necessity of a new mattress is obvious.

I’m actually more thrilled with the other thing they brought–a small, live Christmas tree, to be planted in the mushy part of the yard, in hopes of soaking up some of the water. I hope pines like water. A weeping willow might have been more appropriate for that area.

The dog has gone back to sleeping with the Butcher. I’m not sure what this means for the new kitty, if she’s sleeping in there, too, or hiding under the bed, or if she will come out and explore the rest of the house, now that her mortal enemy has returned to the bed.

I’m still very stressed out, but I think it’s just the afterburn of all this North Carolina nonsense. And I’m really hoping that a good trip to the park can get it out of my system.

The Scream of the Carrot

I’m almost sure we learned that carrots scream when I was in middle school. I don’t remember how they were supposed to scream, lacking screaming things like mouths and vocal chords, but I thought of the screaming carrots again when I read Natalie Angier’s piece about how we’re learning more and more about plants’ striving for life.