Spawn of Satan

I might have mentioned a few weeks ago that the evil Mr. T has returned. After living with Molly for a couple of years, he's ba-a-ack. And I'm not happy.

Why are our pets always evil?

First we had Mickey, the Dalmatian from Hell. He bit people, mostly me, barked a lot, and shed evil dalmatian hair all over the house.

Now there's Mr. T. He bites, too, and poops big turtle poops. Nasty. And he eats live fish when he can find them. One year we let him out in the pond for the summer, and he bit every single leaf off the water lilies at the water line.

Evil, I say!

And expensive! He outgrew his first tank so we had to buy a new one, and now he destroys everything we put in--a floating shelf, the heater. But Dave keeps buying new stuff. The latest is a little penthouse where he can sun himself.

I've been trying to find someone who's driving down to Florida so they can release him into the wild. No takers yet. For some reason, everyone else in the family likes him. How can you be fond of a reptile? You can't pet him... he'd bite your finger. You can talk to him, but he doesn't respond. All he does is eat and sleep.

Next year we're probably going to Hilton Head for a week. My plan is to take him along and let him go.

Do you think he'd fit in my pocket?
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Just shoot me

My tweets for the first half of February:

4-Feb – Last day of freedom before MIL arrives to stay with us for 7 weeks. Last chance to lie around the house naked all day. Clothes off...

5-Feb – If I ever get so old I can't open a bottle of water myself, even after someone's already loosened the cap, just shoot me.

6-Feb – If I ever get so old that I shuffle in teeny tiny steps, not caring how many people are behind me trying to get by, just shoot me.

6-Feb – If I ever get so old that I talk whenever I want to, even if someone else is talking, just shoot me.

7-Feb – If I ever get so old that even a pet turtle can walk faster than I can, just shoot me.

7-Feb – If I ever get so old that taking my pills is the highlight of my day, just shoot me.

9-Feb – If I ever get so old that worrying about my bowels becomes the focus of my entire life, just shoot me.

9-Feb – I think a margarita for breakfast sounds like a fine idea. Limes are fruit, and it's five o'clock somewhere, right?

9-Feb – If I ever get so old that I can't even get my own lunch, just shoot me.

11-Feb – If I ever get so old that I won't shut the f*ck up when I find out I gained a few pounds, just shoot me.

11-Feb – If I ever get so old that I shuffle to a stop in a doorway and just stand there, blocking everyone from passing, just shoot me.

12-Feb – If I ever get so old that every thought that crosses my mind comes gushing out of my mouth like diarrhea, just shoot me.

12-Feb – If I ever get so old that I can't take a shower without my daughter or daughter-in-law helping me, just shoot me... PLEASE!!!!

12-Feb – If I ever get so old that I make my children feel guilty for not doing enough for me, just shoot me.

13-Feb – If I ever get so old that I have to eat pancakes with a spoon, just shoot me.

13-Feb – If I ever get so old I can't do ANYTHING for myself, not even warm up a plate of food in the microwave, just shoot me.

14-Feb – If I ever whine constantly so I can't hold a normal conversation, just shoot me. Oh, I'm doing that now? Crap, shoot me, PLEASE!
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