Monster Says...

I has a Christmas list.

Monster Says...

I'ma getchu one day, chipmunk.

Monster Says...

I like this comix.

Did I mention...

My Monster walked me down the aisle.  I fancied up his leash for the occasion and he steeled my nerves.  Here he is sitting for the ceremony with his uncle.  The adoring look is because said uncle had a handful of treats to help him behave.

Chipmunk Chasin' Blur

Lunchtime!

Okay, more like dinner time but it'd still make a nice lunch!  We had "picky dinner".  Not picky as in fussy about food.  Picky as in you put a lot of little foods out and then just pick and snack for hours.  So hummus, blueberries, pumpernickel bread, cukes, carrots, cheese and crackers and my mister's tomato/onion/cuke salad.  Oh, and the aforementioned birthday brownies after.  

Also, Monster would like you to note how sad he is that this meal doesn't feature any meats.

Monster Says...

Tear down this wall, Mr. Gorbachev!  (There's a chipmunk in there.)

Monster Says...

Har har, good one, Claudia!

Claudia Says...

Who da woman?

Monster Says...

Who da man?

Remember When?

Click here to link to original post

This was taken when Monster was still going by his imposter name, before he revealed his true secret identity.  Also, we've been blogging this long and longer.  Trippy, I daresay.

Monster Says...

Is not time to get up yet.

Nope, not yet.

An Exceptionally Good Morning To You

Morning Coffee

Monster prefers decaf

Monster Says...

On the Hunt

Is no fair.  Barney has no leash.  Also, Barney, can I bum a bunny?  I pays you back on Mondays.

Monster and The Mister

Waiting

The Mister isn't fluent in dog and Monster's English is halting at best, so they don't always understand each other.  I am fluent in dog so I happen to know that Monster cares a great deal about the Mister.  He waits by that window every day.  When he hears Mister's car pull into the driveway he watches him walk up the path to the door and then greets him when he gets through the door.  The greeting tends to be overly loud- kind of like when people yell at foreigners thinking it might improve their understanding of the native language.

Right after that, he runs over to me and (again loudly) informs me that my Mister is home, as if I don't know that already by all the ruckus.  The Mister was surprised and I daresay a little touched when he saw this shot.

Ask the Angry Gardener

It seems while I've been busy weeding, taking pictures, making bouquets and generally minding my own business, my mail box has filled up.  With idiots.

Let's start with this one:

Dear Angry Gardener,  

You call THAT, "dressing it up??" Where the hell are the gnomes...or even a friggin' bird bath?? You really do need my input!
Sincerely,
SID LYON

This same "SID" also had this to say:

SID said...

I think you're angry because you have not used any lawn decorations that might cheer you up and make you smile. Your garden is very boring due to the lack of them. Take a tip from me...DRESS IT UP!!

 

Apparently SID thinks he or she should be the one dispensing advice around here.  The only problem with that, of course, is that this is my blog and my non-fucking-tacky-ass garden.  Nonetheless, we can't leave the trolls to just starve, can we?  That would be cruel.  Besides, I like to think I can be open-minded.  I can be, but that implies that I might be wrong about something.  And I'm not.  

 

Here you go, SID.  I got flocked by the American Cancer Society- a perfect opportunity to try your shitty ideas.

I tried to embrace the opportunity.

Feeding time with the native bird population.

Migratory formation.

But the locals got annoyed.

So I marched them into the woods.

The way was hot and humid, fraught with malaria.

Menacing little fuckers.

Even Monster turned up his nose at them.  Out they go.

I hope that answers your "question," SID.

PS:  This SID is not the same as this one:

Sid said... 

Hey,chill out,angry one !!!! 

Dear Not-All-Caps Sid,

You'd be angry too if you had to humor plastic lovers. 

PS:  Both the Angry Gardener and The Mister support The American Cancer Society and we absolutely loved getting "flocked".  Google "flocking" + your area to see if you can go flock yourself.  

 

PSS:  Please forgive horrid formatting.  Angry Gardener is angry with Blogger's formatting stuff. 

 

This message has been brought to you by The Angry Gardener.

Monster Says...

Ya know, I'm not really sure what he's saying here.  He does this thing sometimes where he places his toys very purposefully like in this picture.  Then he wants me to read his stuffed animal hieroglyphic message.  So.  Squirrel- pelican- weasel if read clockwise from left.  Or should I be reading counter-clockwise?  I think this message is particularly important because usually he keeps the pelican in the kitchen a few inches from his food bowl.  

Probably I'm reading too much into it.  Probably he just wanted to play and is wondering why I'm so damned dense.

Hangin' in the Fort

Monster Goes to the Vet

Monster had his annual appointment yesterday.  Me, I have post-traumatic vet syndrome because even though I love my vet, every time I have to go, I remember animals I've had to have put down there.  I'm always afraid Monster's gonna get some horrid diagnosis even though he seems fine.  

He is indeed totally fine- nice clean bill of health except for one thing:  He gained five damned pounds!  It's tough to track his weight because it hides under all that fur and he doesn't exactly fit on the bathroom scale.  We both gained weight this past winter because of my broken leg.  Guess we gotta get a move on.

However, since the visit was so stressful for both of us, we totally deserved some KFC after.  And then brie and crackers last night. 

Monster says, "We'll start our diet tomorrow.  We swear."