Not only does my mo-ther NOT know how to play Doozie Ball, she feels it necessary to destroy everything within a twenty-five foot radius of wherever she happens to be standing. Last night she decided that she would be a much more effective player if she enlisted the help of a dust mop, but all it did was make her that much more dangerous.
I tried. I really did, but no matter how hard I hollered at her to "just take it easy already!", she was oblivious to the impending doom. Her face got all red and sweaty and she was huffing and puffing to the point of me dialing the 9 and the 1 on the telephone in anticipation of "THE BIG COLLAPSE OF 2009". Fortunately, that didn't happen, but there were casualties. I give you Exhibit A:
As you can see, I am shocked and appalled at the mess and am doing my darndest not to get any dirt on my paws. My stupid mo-ther, however, was not as bright, and we had dirty footprints all over the damn house that were in the exact size and shape of her big fat white terry cloth house slippers. These, of course, will have to be laundered today, so it looks like my load of delicates will have to wait.
I swear, I finally get this house in some semblance of order and as soon as I turn around I've got yet another mess to clean up. True...I do pee on the drapes every now and then, but I only use that technique as a very last resort to get some attention around here. I swear, the only way I can get her to listen to me is if I write stuff down and then staple the note to her forehead. Damn Mommie.
Idaho Star is coming along quite nicely. After the excitement of Doozie Ball, I was much relieved to be able to sit and watch the TeeVee without too much distraction. There's something about Aunt Laura's pieces that lull my mom into quiet submission. Now that I've figured this out, methinks I better get up to the studio to kit up another ten or fifteen of these for the long winter nights ahead. I just don't think my nerves can take any more Doozie Ball.