I am sitting at my desk in this awful uncomfortable chair and I am sincerely trying to avoid breakfast but it won't be long befor He comes down in his happy little sinister way to offer me food of some sort or another. All of which will sound totally dreadful because, let's face it, when your only real choices are oatmeal, oatmeal or oatmeal, no matter what they add to it, it is still oatmeal. You know what I really want? A HUGE stack of waffles totally covered in butter and blueberries and whipped cream. A mile high mound of freshly whipped cream. And a cookie. That is what I really want. Instead I am going to go upstairs and have oatmeal, either of the apple cinnamon or of the brown sugar variety. Or, if I am feeling totally daring, I will have one poached egg, poached very, very, hard. I can't eat anything that wiggles and jiggles and then oozes yellowy orange gop all over my toast. It's just not right. At least I am not Hercules. Hercules is my pleco catfish, technically called a Plecostomus, but not by me because it is a stupid word. He is my only remaining fish. I used to have a Beta but he died. Then I had guppies but they died. The last two were doing wonderfully but then Scott killed them. It wasn't intentional, he just put them in a bowl of water before cleaning out the tank. A bowl that had been washed in the dishwasher which leaves some kind of sparkling, spot free film all over the bowl that will kill guppies fast, fast, fast! Sorry, accidentally watched a few moments of one of those paid advertisement shows. Anyway, back to Hercules. He is sitting on the bottom of his tank staring at me and sucking on an algae chip. That's all he ever gets. Algae. I bet he wants a cookie too.
I am sitting at my desk in this awful uncomfortable chair and I am sincerely trying to avoid breakfast but it won't be long befor He comes down in his happy little sinister way to offer me food of some sort or another. All of which will sound totally dreadful because, let's face it, when your only real choices are oatmeal, oatmeal or oatmeal, no matter what they add to it, it is still oatmeal.
Read more...You know what I really want? A HUGE stack of waffles totally covered in butter and blueberries and whipped cream. A mile high mound of freshly whipped cream. And a cookie. That is what I really want. Instead I am going to go upstairs and have oatmeal, either of the apple cinnamon or of the brown sugar variety. Or, if I am feeling totally daring, I will have one poached egg, poached very, very, hard. I can't eat anything that wiggles and jiggles and then oozes yellowy orange gop all over my toast. It's just not right.
At least I am not Hercules. Hercules is my pleco catfish, technically called a Plecostomus, but not by me because it is a stupid word. He is my only remaining fish. I used to have a Beta but he died. Then I had guppies but they died. The last two were doing wonderfully but then Scott killed them. It wasn't intentional, he just put them in a bowl of water before cleaning out the tank. A bowl that had been washed in the dishwasher which leaves some kind of sparkling, spot free film all over the bowl that will kill guppies fast, fast, fast!
Sorry, accidentally watched a few moments of one of those paid advertisement shows.
Anyway, back to Hercules. He is sitting on the bottom of his tank staring at me and sucking on an algae chip. That's all he ever gets. Algae. I bet he wants a cookie too.