Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Tell Me Who's Yo Housekeeper Wutchoo Keep in Yo House

I'm seriously trippin' right now, because there is a strong chance I forgot to turn off Clocky's alarm and I really wanna go home and make sure that bitch ass alarm clock isn't rolling out around the apartment.

Shit, Clocky.

I mean, we know I have issues with like, not sleeping. I am awesome at sleeping. Anything that involves suspended motor functions and unconscious creative output is like cake for me, and you know. Fuck yeah, cake.

Being awake is so hard. You have to be clean when you talk to people or else they make scrutinous little snipes, since everyone's a private dick, like "oh, are we too good for a shower?" or "I can smell you were drinking last night" or "go put on a bra, this isn't Wal-Mart."

So I need an alarm clock that'll get all up in my business so I can be a daisy-fresh daywalker, and Clocky is loud enough to get me out of bed. Sometimes. Usually. After awhile. Basically Clocky is an annoying little bastard, and if that alarm has been going off for hours...shit.

If Clocky's been bustin 'round the a.pt. like a wheeled schizophrenic banshee all frakking day, then right about an hour ago I'm sure the neighbors chopped down the door with a fire-axe and crushed him to bits in an alarm-fueled axe-rage, smashing family portraits and snatching my Band of Brothers DVD's because they are laying out on the table right now in plain sight omgwtf, and and then Oscar The One-Eyed Cat prolly got loose into the world (I started calling him Colonel Tigh) and is about to get grilled by crack-addled hipsters who don't have jobs because they need to focus on their "music" and eat cat-steak sandwiches for lunch. Cat-steak with hedonistic hipstery condiments and toppings, like roasted-red-pepper-and-guava-chutney-with-gluten-free-brie-purple-Japanese-sweet-potato-truffles.

GAAHHHHHH.

...

9 comments:

renalfailure said...

Perhaps the one-eyed cat would hunt Clocky down and disassemble the beeping wheelie thing.

Also, my captcha was "ronjuse." He sounds like Tag Larkin's second cousin from the Middle East.

nursemyra said...

Whoah! I just watched that video - MAKE IT STOP

Logical Libby said...

Do you ever find clocky covered in dust and crying silently?

DiaryofWhy said...

What did you eat today? Yikes. You are all kindsa crazy story word-makin' today. Like, in a good way.

la isla d'lisa said...

New favorite end to one of your posts: "Cat-steak with hedonistic hipstery condiments and toppings, like roasted-red-pepper-and-guava-chutney-with-gluten-free-brie-purple-Japanese-sweet-potato-truffles." Fan-f'n-tastic, you wordsmith, you.

daisyfae said...

if there were a clocky in my life? i would stomp on it so hard it would wish for an alarm-fueled axe-rage.

on the bright side? i suspect you could get a job on the food network coming up with dumb ass hipster condiments for the celebrity chefs to fuss over.

Wynn said...

Had you forgotten? Were the neighbours waiting for you outside your door with torches and oversized, sharp forks?

Rassles said...

RF: I thought of Ron Jeremy. And his juice. Shit.

Nurse: good morning!

Libby: No. I could never do that to Clocky. We depend on each other for survival.

Rachel: I've been a bit bonky lately.

Lisa: Why thank you, lady. Typing that made me very hungry and angry.

Daisy: I shall draft scented proposals immediately, and they will smell like flannel, PBR, and freshly-cut-grass.

Wynn: All was well.

formerly fun said...

"put on a bra this isn't walmart"

I love that. I'm going to start using it on my mom.