Fear and Feminine Technology

One day, I was discussing my Keeper with f00 when he obviously had a lightbulb appear in his skull. "I wonder," he said, "if anyone has ever thought of making a Keeper-type thing with a spigot on the bottom. After all, that little stem could easily be opened up to drain the liquids away without even needing to remove it."

"There are a couple of problems with that," I said. "And the reason you don't know them, is because you've never had a period."

"Oh?"

"For one, it would get dirty. You can't just leave something like that in there for a week."

"Oh, well you could still clean it every day, of course."

"And two, well, it ain't exactly the consistency of water."

f00's face suddenly gained that familiar I-don't-want-to-know-about-girl-stuff look. "Don't tell me! Don't tell me! Don't..."

"Imagine you had a nose bleed and a head cold, and you've got to try to blow your nose through that itty-bitty Keeper opening."

"Gahhh!!!" He screamed and clawed at his ears.

"Well, you wanted to know why it wouldn't work!"

Men can be so fragile when it comes to woman things.

Retarded Poll du Jour

I got to answer all of these with the names of a particular musician's song tracks. Can you guess who the artist is (without using a search engine)? A virtual cookie goes to the winner.

1. Are you male or female?: New Dawn
2. Describe yourself: Subvert/Wired Archives/Seig of Atrocity
3. How do some people feel about you?: Brainwaves
4. How do you feel about yourself?: Strangeways
5. Describe your girlfriend/boyfriend/interest: Certain Trust
6. Where would you rather be?: Somnolent
7. Describe what you want to be: Allurance
8. Describe how you live: Inside the Chamber

Well?

Tommy-Dude

I spent some time with my Mom and sister this morning, and for a few brief minutes, we stopped by Mom's place. I went in to see Tommy-Dude. Mom said he had been doing particularly badly lately, and hadn't been eating for about four days. When offered his favourite dish--raw eggs--he'd stare at them for a moment as though considering it, then walk away.

I called him, but he didn't answer, so I went to the bathroom.

The toilet summoned him. Tommy-Dude's always had a strange attraction for flushing toilets. He loves to stare down at the swirling water. His feet are frequently muddy, because he likes to rest his front toes in the bowl, waiting for someone to push the magic handle. And then, with his feet still wet, he journeys to his secret hideaway down in the unfinished basement.

When I came out of the bathroom, his feet were muddy. He wouldn't look at me. I guess he just didn't have the energy. So I knelt down and stroked his back. He still didn't move to look at me, but his fur rippled in appreciation for the touch. Then Mom walked into the bathroom, and he slowly walked in after her, so she could flush the toilet and give him his daily dose of excitement.

Then we left.

Just a few minutes ago, Mom phoned me. Tommy had been crying and vomiting. He was obviously in pain, so Mom and Dad knew he needed to be put out of his misery. So he's probably only been dead for about twenty minutes, now.

He was about seventeen years old, a skilled fighter, and an equally-proficient fucker. He probably has great-great-great-great-grandchildren³. If any cat deserves a wake, it's him. Too bad I don't like raw eggs.