September 15th, 2005
|07:24 pm - the orson welles award of the day|
Okay, okay, I come back home from work and I see what's happened to the post I made earlier about surrealestate, my housemate, and her comments about a certain new housemate and his lack of personal space ideas.
I think this is what is known in the industry as "a backfire."
I knew surrealestate was joking all along, and I think it's one of the funniest things I've read all week, and we've had a few yuks about it over IM this afternoon. So I said I'd play along too and post about it as well, only I went one further and said "I'll phrase it so as to give it the fine sheen of LJ drama" and damned if that wasn't what happened. Her version is funnier, since many of the people on her flist don't know Mr. Abbie El Gato Gordo Grande and thus have no frame of reference about the housemate who sleeps in your bed when you're not at home, sits on your lap when he wants to and watches you take showers. My version seems to add that context by default, and, well.
So I think I better step in with some damage control right quick before things get a bit too out of hand.
So yes, surrealestate was joking, and I was joking too, and yes, Mr. Abbie needs grooming but no, it's not a passive-aggressive snark fest. surrealestate is actually one of the most frank and forthright housemates I've had, who speaks up at the earliest opportunity when she has something to say, and so we're all on the level there. I do believe that Mr. Abbie needs to learn some more social graces, though. And he needs a shave. Maybe someone could drive us to a pet groomy place on Monday.
But I do thank everybody for their words of support, as unnecessary as they might have turned out to be. Next time I'll try to be less dry with the house jokes.
ok, j, I said it, it's posted, would you take bring abbie back from abu dhabi now?
He was in Abu Ghraib, actually. We have photos.
That is now the extreme extension of the PET SATISFACTION chart, version Spatch.0:
PET MEAT SOLD ABU
TO THE GHRAIB
I want to see these photos.
Unfortunately, shortly after I posted the above comment, men in black showed up at my door and ransacked my apartment, removing all evidence of said photos. Apparently there was some fear of a media leak. We can only hope...
I just want to know where Martha got the cigarettes.
|Date:||September 16th, 2005 12:26 am (UTC)|| |
Funniest. Thing. Evar.
That is hilarious. I'm totally embarassed but not surprised that I was fooled.
I thought the kidding was obvious; that may be a sign of how blessedly drama-free my life is.
(And it's a perfect example of the kind of joke I'm reluctant to play along with, becasue the *second* I play my hand with a straight face, someone says, "come on, Kate, didn't you realize we were joking?"
|Date:||September 16th, 2005 05:03 am (UTC)|| |
I have that problem, too. My own family can never tell when I'm joking or being sarcastic.
I prefer to interpret this as I'm just a good actress but have a poor sense of when I'm doing too good a job at it.
Needless to say, this has led to many weird but funny moments.
I'm just that gullible, I suppose. I knew that there was joking around occurring but I thought she was semi-serious.
|Date:||September 16th, 2005 01:10 am (UTC)|| |
nicely played. fine family fun.
|Date:||September 16th, 2005 01:15 am (UTC)|| |
|Date:||September 16th, 2005 02:10 pm (UTC)|| |
He does, but he never liked it. His Blogger feed is picked up and syndicated thru abbiesayrelax
No need to be driven to a groomer -- Stinky's is right up here in Ball Square; best and most reasonable groomer in Somerville. You and I could carry Abbie in a buckbasket if need be, and deposit him in the Thames of Stinky's, and he'll come out "smelling of April and May" because of it. With the hair-tumors gone from his back, too.
Aye, and would I make plans for to gather with thee post-haste, and the cat; but word have I from good Mistress Jude that the one who calleth himself Stinky but groometh cats on Saturday; that being the day which I labour long in the towers of Fort Pointe, and by doing so earneth I the monies for to provide good Sir Stinky means of recompense for his kind actions and courteous cat-treatment.
Thus the scene therein is set; I cannot make't.
|Date:||September 16th, 2005 02:12 pm (UTC)|| |
You could probably get a volunteer to take him there. I'm free in the early morning and afternoon on Saturday, and would be willing to take him there myself if you made an appointment for him.