Problems?

Sissy here and I'm gonna tell you this: there are problems and there are problems. Mama thinks I'm a problem a lot of the time, she says I'm a thief (!) when I'm simply wanting a better look at things and besides she has a lot of neat things and I live here too so I should be able to look at the neat things but she doesn't like that idea. There's the leg shaver razor plastic cover thing that she took away from me and the countless pens and her cross stitch floss and she's real touchy about anything she wears in her hair and stuff in the little garbage can by the coffee table and stray cigarettes (unlit) and beads? I'm crazy about beads!!!

So when I touch these things (or do other things, like drag my tail across Mama's food when I walk past the coffee table), I end up in the "You Poor Bastard" section of the chart (see left) because Mama doesn't tolerate some things and is less tolerant of other things. Doesn't tolerate means I get yelled at, less tolerant and she sprays me with the water bottle.

Anyway. She likes it when I play with some things like tinfoil balls and the plastic rim thingies from milk jugs and paper balls and any of the other toys that she has bought for us. She plays fetch with me almost daily!

Mama's reading: a book called "Giants of the Frost" by Kim Wilkins. She's been trying to get interested in that book for over a week now. She's still reading "Glamorama" but that's beside the bed - for nighttime reading. She's also reading a lot of blogs - she calls it the "blog merry-go-round" where you click "NEXT BLOG" and go from there.

Mama's singing under her breath:

My dreams are all dead and buried
Sometimes I wish the sun would just explode
When Gawd comes to take me to his kingdom
I'll take all ya sonsabeeches when I go...yeeeeee-aaaaahhhhooooooooo

--- Squidbillies Theme Song

not if I catch ya first!
Sissy