Saturday, September 29, 2012


"That cat's a dick. We were cuddling, and suddenly, he was all like, 'no, I'm done, I don't want to be here!' and I was like, 'Coldplay.'"

"I'm like the goddamn Liberace of campaign finance reform."

"Fuckin' right, I love Wisconsin! It's the greatest union in the goddamn state!"

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Secret Mackerel

"Nnno, we're not aliens...That's fine, it happens."

"Akhim, go make me some coffee. Go! Go! It's easy, you just put water in it and BAM! You're done, you don't even need opposible thumbs for like, thirty five percent of the work. Just go! Go! Lazy jobless fucker cat! Go! Make me coffee, Akhim!"
(Rolls over, scoops Akhim off the bed, and launches him toward the door.) "Go! Make me coffee! I'm depending on you, you lazy asshole! Get a job!" (Akhim lands safely, wanders out of the room, tail flicking.) "See, there he goes. He's going, right? Yeah. Making me coffee."
"Dorian, wake up, you just threw the cat."
"Unh?...Whuh?...Does Akhim have a job, yet?"
"Did he make me coffee?"
"Well, damn."

(Dorian takes his phone, places it upside-down on his forehead, and falls asleep. I try to take the phone, he groans in objection and swats my hand away.)
"Leave it! I'm calling Jim! You've got to start doing it, too."

"Is Jim coming over?"
"No, love, you're not feeling well and you need sleep. Also, he works at eleven."
"Jim's not a newscaster."

"Oppa Juarez style!"

"You know what we should do get buy when we have stuff, Adom?"
"Mackerel...mackerellll...then we could...I could cook the mackerel. It would be delicioussss...we could have mackerel. I love mackerel. It's so good. I love mackerel so much. Promise me, when we have money, we'll buy some mackerel?"
"Sure, I promise...I am so putting this on Senatorial Kittens."
"Nnnnoooo! You can't tell anyone. Not about the mackerel. 'Cause then they'll knooowww. This has to be our secret mackerel."
(Laughing) "Okay."
"Nooo! Promise. Promise with the fingers and the stuff that when we have the stuff you won't tell anyone about our secret mackerel."
"I...I promise."
"Secret mackerel."
"Secret mackerel!"
"Secret mackerel."
"Ok...ok...I want it kippered."

(I ran this by Dorian before posting it, obviously, so I'm nor breaking our Secret Mackerel Vow.)

Monday, September 24, 2012


Dorian: "Did I make breakfast, or did I dream that?"
Me: "You dreamt it."
Dorian, falling back to sleep: "Noo...why do I always do that to myself...but I don't think that's right..."
Taking the hint, I go and make oatmeal.* A few minutes later:
Me: "Did you still want breakfast?"
Dorian: "Yes."
Me: "Well, then sit up. I made you breakfast."
Dorian: "But I did. I made biscuits and sausages with gravy."
Me, quoting Doctor Who, and commenting on the state of our larder: "But where did the eggs and milk come from?"
Dorian: "We had them...(whispers) The rest I made up."

* I still hate oatmeal, but it's what we've got. Dorian commented, "The breakfast I made in my dream was slightly more exciting than oatmeal. But this is still good."

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Sand Fart

"Seven hours in a suit shop, boring as hell. But you guys think it's hilarious because all you hear is 'sand fart.'"

(Disappointed sigh.) "I have never been so sad to wake up without a tricycle."

Me: "You called me a Nazi!":
Dorian: "No, I didn't. That was Tony. SUPLEX!"
(Rolls over, drives his elbow into my pillow.)

Friday, September 7, 2012


"C'mon, Dorian, let's go to bed."
"I already did seven times! And you keep doing the stuff with the thing that I hate and tell the fish to turn the light off!"

"I'm doing."
"I did!"

"I'm going. Bedstapo."

And then he bolted from the couch, waving his arms. "I'm going! Ok! Go!"

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Tuesday, September 4, 2012


"(Something in Russian)...Tell him to take the queso and chiles and (something in Spanish)...Yeah!"

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Fevers make him speak nonsense

Dorian and I are both coming down with some kind of creeping crud. The fever hit Dorian this evening. He's sleeping on the couch with a cool cloth on his forehead, but earlier...

Me: "C'mon, pumpkin, let's get some fluids in you."
Dorian: "Aaah! Noooo..."
Me: "What? What's wrong?"
Dorian: "You called me, 'pumpkin.' In my culture, that means I'm going to die."

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Concerning Facebook and Time Lords

Our friend Mort makes his own beer. After a day of drinking very little water and skipping meals, Dorian availed himself of Mort's beer. Several times.

I give you the results.

“There is a difference between drunken ramblings and prophecy. Drunken ramblings does not change your life. Everything I say is like prophecy.”

“Anal beads are nothing to be afraid of. They stay in the ground when you leave ‘em.”

To Jim:
“There will need to be an emancipation proclamation for the amount of ass kicking I will bring on you.”

On whether he could walk to the nearest gas station:
“I know the way. It’s straight and then it kinda goes, woo!

“It’s like the civil rights movement. You never know when the right moment to shove a lighter up someone’s nose is, but when it’s right, you know.”

“I am the opposite of the blue stabilizers on the TARDIS. I am not the blue boringers.”

Eden: “The flowers are like cotton candy.”
Dorian: “It gets stuck around your penis really easily and makes it hard to…(he notices us looking at him) What?”

“Teenage Mutant Ninja Girl Tree!”

"I can't believe I'm time traveling! I don't know whose face I am!"
Me: "Okay, sweetheart, let's get you home."
(I put an arm around him to stabilize him. He starts tugging at my shirt.)
Me: "Dorian. Dorian. Dorian!" 
Dorian: "What?"
Me: "You're taking off my clothes. Stop that."
Dorian, laughing: "Oh, sorry. (Whispers, giggling) To be honest, I thought they were my clothes."

So after a few hours of insisting that he is a Time Lord and other drunken nonsense, I drove him home. He sat down on the couch and attempted to post a status update to Facebook.

The status was this:

so it turn seems that no food and litlle not very water an alot of bneer is basically dancing and seinging bnilly idol out of the passegner seat of a car, I dont I actually did prefer the billy ocean "caribeaqn queen" but I i need water

He felt his message was unclear ("Nothing I am thinking is coming out of my fingers! It's like Little House on the Prairie, and I'm the black woman!"), so he elected to post this moments later.

I am sobrest than thent I typed : Not eating food andf havening water not id a bad idea for when you beer, I ended yup-0 singing abilly idol songs and in the p assenger seat, but i prefvered,. as usual the billy ocean. And I concluded that I need perhaps drink some water. See, it was alot more coherent.

Upon reading these posts:
"Oh, no! They're gonna think I'm drunk!"

He drank some water, then fell asleep on the couch.

And then he started talking.

"Hawaii? I'm gonna get that son of a bitch."

"I can't believe you broke a T-ball bat. I can't believe you brought a T-ball bat. Why? I have a machete in the car."

"I have jurisdiction everywhere."

"Akhim, you're the Michael Jordan of cats, you just won't stop being awesome...and you're fuzzy. I LOVE YOU, LITTLE MICHAEL JORDAN. And you're a kitty."

"Oh no! That one's flexible enough to pull it off!...Well, yeah, there's the in the one you've got to."

Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, my husband is a madman with a box.