Quand mon chat s'entraîne à retomber sur ses...
Quand mon chat travaille en équipe
The other day, I overheard my older kids talking to my younger boy and they were...– (via nemonobody)
… however is take that fancy to the subsequently class never only are they a...– Unattributable spam email this morning. (via harkaway)
Living (25): Meeting
Muse: *yawn* *stretch*
Me: Also, I have toast.
Me: Yeah, I thought you could use some.
Muse: ‘S nice of you.
Me: ‘S okay.
Muse: *Om nom nom nom*
Muse: *Om nom* *nom nom* ...
Me: ... Tra la la...
Muse: ... What did you DO?
Muse: Oh. My. God. What did you do?
Me: Nuffum! Nothing to see here! All normal, tra la la. Mmm-mm. Yes.
Muse: Did you take the deal to do that appalling book about snails?
Me: No! Don’t be absurd.
Muse: Thank God.
Me: (Although, in all seriousness: that was a well-paying gig.)
Muse: ... So.
Me: La dee dah dee dum tra la.
Muse: ... Have you been reading something flavoursome which will mess with your authorial voice when we edit?
Muse: Did you get a tattoo?
Me: Don’t be absurd.
Muse: Yes! You did! You got a tattoo of... an A. A. Milne character! On your buttock!
Me: I really did not.
Muse: I know there is something.
Me: There is not something.
Muse: Bertrand Russell argued that a statement of that kind means effectively that there is something and that the something in question possesses among others the quality of not existing.
Me: That might well explain the number of times he was married.
Muse: Fair point.
Me: Thank you.
Muse: You should tweet that.
Muse: Yeah, you should, it’s mediapathic.
Me: Nah, ‘s fine.
Muse: You are not tweeting.
Me: I’m just resting my tweet-i-ness. My tweet fu. My tweetasticity. Yeah. I’m chilling. Is all.
Muse: Your... tweetasticity.
Muse: Show. Me. The. Screen.
Muse: ... ... ...
Muse: ... Is that Neil Gaiman?
Muse: We basically grew up together reading his stuff! It was him and Gibson and Mondo! You let me sleep through being in a room with that guy?
Me: In fact that picture was taken out of doors. As you can see by the outside-ness. And the coats. Also: little bit Reservoir Dogs, right?
Muse: Tell me there was not also an inside stretch. With the working and the discussion.
Muse: I see.
Me: I feel bad for not waking you. I do.
Me: I am! I really am!
Muse: Nuh-uh. You’re in trouble.
Me: Something’s come along and it’s burst my bubble, huh-huh?
Muse: Do not 90s trash-pop me right now, or so help me I will make you bleed from the amygdala.
Me: I really am sorry.
Muse: ... No.
Muse: No. Don’t be. It’s okay.
Me: It is?
Me: How is it okay?
Muse: Because this was a cool thing. A professional thing.
Muse: It was productive and cool.
Muse: Then that is good.
Me: You're okay because I had a nice time?
Muse: ... And because in all probability I would have giggled and tried to lick him.
Me: On reflection I am glad that you did not do that.
Muse: I bet he tastes like forgotten mysteries. And jam.
Me: Stop talking now.
ivegottobethere: ima-ho-ho-ho: rneerkat: snapfox: rneerkat: rneerkat: what happens to nitrogen when the sun rises it becomes daytrogen I’m going to bed. good nitrogen sleep tightrogen don’t let the bed bugs bitrogen
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