Posts Tagged 'peebag'

Peebag strikes again.

At least my room is still safe. Peebag has declared war on the living room, the family room and now the dining room has joined the ranks of victims. I went in there for a teabag a little bit ago and soon found myself wandering the room, a packet of English Breakfast in my hand, playing hot-and-cold with an elusive pee smell. Sure enough, Mom’s expensive drapes have been violated. What is wrong with that animal?

To be honest, at this point in the pee wars, I’m no longer sure all the crimes are Peebag’s or if some of them are Maimer retaliating and retaking territory, but I’m not about to admit that to a Peebag-loving household. It’s Maimer and me against the world. If I betray her bladder now, then I’d have to start cleaning up the pee. And I’m just not ready for that kind of commitment. I’m not even telling Mom her drapes have become toilet paper. She’ll find out on her own eventually. I’m guessing the next time she drinks tea.

On an unrelated note, I’ve gone two days now without seeing Aeon Flux and I’m starting to feel a little panicky. It’s okay, though. You know why? Because it just hit the dollar theaters. And between now and the next showing, well that’s what they put clips on the internet for.

Saint George and the Sphinx

Ah, just finished vacuuming the carpet. Not very satisfying when you realize after all that work it’s still just the same eight-year-old crap carpet that Peebag has had her way with. But it does look better.

Poor Maim, she’s absolutely terrified of the vacuum cleaner, like it’s some kind of dragon that lives in the closet under the stairs along with the wrapping paper and old photo boxes. You’d think with her draconic heritage, she’d feel some kind of cameraderie with the evil bag of suck, but as far as her little Kobold brain can tell, it’s this mammoth creature that every now and then escapes from its den to rampage, thrashing and hissing around the house until I finally wrestle it back under the stairs.
I’m Maimer’s Saint George.
While I wrangle, panting and red-faced (I’m sadly out of shape), Maim just hides at the top of the stairs, calling to me occasionally for updates. Sometimes, the dragon even makes it all the way upstairs and Maimer has to flee to my room, the only place she knows the dragon dare not tread since it feeds on carpet and you can never see any in there.

That sweet smell of rejection

Got my second rejection slip today. Second in my life, first for fiction (other one was for poetry).

Feel like shit.

Shit shit shit.

I’ve got nothing else to say about it. I’ve been struck with Tourette’s or something.

I’ve been dying to use this crying sphinx icon, but lately I’ve been riding so high, like bad underwear, I couldn’t imagine anything getting me that down. Nice of the literary agency to oblige, a whopping 3 weeks later than their listing promised they would.


Grrr, I just gotta suck it up! I plan to get lots and lots of these icky squares of heavy bond paper, I can’t turn into Random Profanity Girl every time.

So instead, I’m going to launch a new “column” as it were of my LJ:

My Kobold Kompanion
Now, not every adventurer is brave (or stupid) enough to choose a Kobold for her animal companion (and I use “companion” in a strictly non-kangar** sense here), but Maimer is like a part of the family. The last surviving member of her clutch, she has few other redeeming qualities. She is chaotic evil, after all. Her life consists mostly of long naps, punctuated by aimless ambulatory periods of loud complaining and, if she’s not feeling too lazy, chasing her arch-nemesis, my sister’s Kobold Kompanion, Peebag.

There, I feel better already.