A promise from a kitten is
a promise always kept.
Impossible! That can’t be so!
But listen, how I wept!:
A street cat one day promised me
a mouth so clean and bright.
No cavities! No tooth decay!
And not a stain in sight!
“Throw out your toothbrush!” he exclaimed.
So throw it out I did.
I mean, who likes to brush her teeth?
I know of no such kid!
The cat gave me a potion black
to gargle at the sink.
“Just gargle this before you sleep,”
he told me with a wink.
I took it home, the tarry vial,
and waited for the night.
And when it fell, I drank the goop
and gargled with delight…
A future free from dental care?
My favourite fantasy!!!!!
But then I felt a tiny itch
upon my naked knee.
As I looked down, oh horror! Ach!
I saw the wicked cat!
Somehow it’d crept into my house!
I very nearly spat!
But I didn’t want the blackened goo
to stain the porcelain sink…
And so as though I had a choice,
I swallowed up the drink.
The cat threw back its head with glee
as I fell to the floor.
I checked the inside of my mouth —
My teeth! They were no more!
Impossible! That can’t be so!
But listen, how I wept!:
A promise from a kitten is
a promise always kept.
A kitten came down from the sky,
from Heaven up above.
It fluttered slowly, slowly down
and fell into my glove.
Its fur was white, its mews so soft,
an angel in my grasp.
I tickled it beneath the chin
but soon I had to gasp…
for as I looked I came to see
I’d made a big mistake.
This was no cat! But a grotesque,
misshapen, wild snowflake.
Its points were mangled, bent and weird,
offending my poor soul.
It violated symmetry!
I threw it in a hole.
I watched it writhe, I watched it thaw,
that devil dressed in white.
Its shiny teeth gnashed up at me.
and tried to take a bite.
So take this as a warning fair
to save your precious pelt:
when kittens snow down from the sky,
don’t save them. Let them melt.
The other day I met a cat
whose fur was pink and tan.
I knelt to pat it, and it said:
“I thought you were a man!
From far away, upon your chin,
I saw a mass of hair.
But as you near to scratch my head,
I see no beard is there.”
He said this kindly, like a pal,
but still I found him crass.
I am a girl! I have no beard!
That kitten was an ass!
And so I sat upon the stoop,
and gave the cat a push,
when suddenly I yanked his tail
and threw him in a bush.
I kept the tail, a souvenir…
I know it might seem weird.
From time to time, I take it out
to wear it like a beard.
Hello, dear readers. You may be wondering why it has taken me so long to post here. The thing is, not much has happened between my last post and now, so it’s not like I’ve been putting this off. Nope! But this is a nice segue into  the subject of today’s post: those despicable people who put off doing things that they’re supposed to do. The scum of the earth! We appear in many forms:
the procrastineater
The procrastineater empties her dresser to smoothe out the wrinkles in her clothes. Not with an iron, though. That’s too much of a commitment. The procrastineater uses speedy Japanese folding techniques, then packs up her clothes very economically so that her drawers can finally close.
the procrastineater, II
The procrastineater, II eats when he thinks he’s bored because he thinks he has nothing to do. But really the procrastineater is trying to trick us all — and worse, himself! — by appearing to be busy with his mouth full of popcorn EVEN THOUGH THERE IS NO MOVIE PLAYING.
the procrastiknitter
The procrastiknitter sits at her computer before a blank Word document. But make no mistake! She’s never merely sitting. She’s procrastiknitting, while admiring beautiful knit objects on ravelry.
Here are some of her more recent procrastiknit objects:
a garish blue coatan ugly green sweater, complete with giant pockets and elbow patches
So she might miss some deadlines, but only by a few hours. At least we know that she and her friends will be warm this winter.
the procraftinator
The procraftinator insists that making arts and crafts is a Basic Human Right. The procraftinator believes that non-procraftinators are soulless capitalist automatons whose values are askew because they have no idea how to “let loose,” “have fun,” and “be creative.” The procraftinator’s living room is filled with an astonishing collexion of procraftinated artefacts. The stench of wet paint crossed with molding papier-mache paste tinges the air.
See: your weird neighbour who needs a shower. Also:Â this guy.
the procrastinasty
Can you spot the nasty face? Isn’t she too young to be procrastinasty?
The procrastinasty treat their friends horribly not because they’re naturally inclined to hurt the ones they love, but because they’re stressed out about all of the things they’re supposed to be doing but aren’t because they are PROCRASTINASTY.
the procrastinettor
middle click/control click syndrome
The procrastinettor is a self-diagnosed chronic middle-clicker (or control+clicker). He has a million Wikipedia articles open in his browser. Does he read them all? It is a mystery. At least he appears to have good intentions of self-enlightenment.
the procrastinaked
The procrastinaked has nothing to wear because the laundry never got did.
Dear readers, I am sorry for leaving you in suspense for so long. Here is an apology I wrote twenty years ago, whose sorrys still ring true today:
I really am very sorry.
I am sorry for taking so long to announce the winners of my first ever caption contest. Thank you to everybody who submitted captions. I liked them all! But these were my favourites, the ones that made me laughed the most (in no order at all):
I hear it tickles more than anything — “will”this is not the bathing suit i pictured myself dying in — LyndallIn typical noob fashion, Brent had filled the pool not with water but with cthulu. — EvanAn Introduction to the Works of Sigmund Freud — S.D.Plank (>) Plonck (V ) Planktom (*) — Lawrence (my Dad)
Actually, the last caption didn’t make me laugh because I didn’t really get it at first.
Anyway, how will you enjoy the end of August?
Me, I will enjoy it with fantastic Neo Citran dreams. Bye!!!!
Because I want my blog to be as interactive as possible, I am starting a… CAPTION CONTEST!!!!!!!! Yes! A caption contest! But this caption contest has a new and exciting twist!! Each image will be dedicated to a very special ~*friend*~!! That’s right! My caption contest will be full of inside jokes!!
OK, so this first post is dedicated to Tania! Here is the picture!!!:
Who will win the first ever caption contest ??? ?
You probably know the drill off the top of your head. Post your caption in the comments, and I will pick my favourite one in a week, when I upload my next picture!!!! Have a happy week guys! Especially you, Tania!!!!
In light of some terrible thing that has befallen me, I have decided to dedicate a part of my website to my Former Left Knee Ligament, henceforth named: my FLUNCKEL.
RIP, Flunckel. I loved you though I didn’t know it. And now that you are gone, I no longer feel whole. You are gone, and you have left a flunckel-shaped hole in my knee.
Seriously, though. Today I met with the surgeon, “Dr. Ted.” First his “fellow,” “Dr. April,” told me that some of his hockey buddies still play hockey with no ACLs, because Dr. April loves to play his hockey three times a week. Then he called me a frisbee-playing “weekend warrior,” which I think is a terrible misnomer, because first of all, I can’t play Ultimate at ALL right now. Second, I would refer to myself as a weekend wimp, given that my weekends have consistently consisted of watching cartoons while eating chocolatey cereal in my underwear. Like a wimp. Then Dr. April said that I should probably get surgery. Then both of the doctors made a big deal of the laxity of my knee’s pivot.
Now for some good news. Hooray for muscle atrophy!!!! I can now easily slip my atrophied left leg into half of a pair of skinny jeans!
The other day I felt a very strange longing. And when I saw a cool dude wearing a toque to match his tight skinny pants and cool bicycle in this blazing hot 40 degree weather, I remembered that I haven’t knit anything since March (!!!!). So here is a post dedicated to some things I knit over the last year or so, under the desk at the back of the classroom when the teacher wasn’t looking.
I’M SORRY, BUT I REALLY HAVE TO INTERRUPT THIS POST FOR A SEC TO GET SOMETHING OFF MY CHEST. I know on Facebook I said, “if you comment on my blog i will give you something cool.” We all know that this was really just a cheap marketing ploy to get you clicking. But guess what??? It worked! I got 100 hits over three days!!!! And out of the 100 visits, 8 fantastic people left comments (Allie, Safia, Jessica, Kenny, Evan, Chiara, Ryan, Justin). That’s 8 percent. Now I can’t remember anything from that statistics course I faked my way through in second year, but I’m pretty sure 8 percent out of 100 is pretty ghastly.
(Don’t worry!!! This post is still about things I’ve knit!!!)
OH!! Here’s a thought. My suspicion is that I am Facebook friends with too many people that I’m not truly friends with. i.e. we don’t hang out in real life. So maybe you guys don’t feel like it is OK to comment on my ~intimate~ blog even though it was OK for you to click on my ~intimate~ link and show up in my Google Analytics. Â Who are you, o visitors from Willowdale, Kimhae, Malaga, Singapore, Oxford, Cambridge, El Paso, Kassel, and Brisbane (oh wait, I do know the answer to the last one, o sender of that strange anonymous email)?
Let me please assure the other 92% of you that I will not think you weird/socially wrong/awkward/creepy if you leave a comment on here, even though I don’t really know you and you don’t really know me despite the fact that I have shown up in your Facebook feed. In fact, if you leave a comment, I will think you are really cool.
As for the Holy Eight (Allie, Safia, Jessica, Kenny, Evan, Chiara, Ryan, Justin), I am actually going to think up something cool to give you in thanks for your Internet-courage!!! So brace yourselves!!!
OK, now, onto the rest of my post (for real):
I was going to try to knit socks, but after making a baby trial sock (which wasn’t too terrible), I remembered that I hate wearing socks so I shouldn’t assume that anybody else likes to wear them, either.
justinaforever 