Friday, May 13, 2011

Aggravated Sigh

As most of you probably have noticed, Blogger has been down since late last night again. It's enough to make me stamp my little feet. And now that it's up again, they seem to have misplaced my last post and several of the replies.

Ach, well. Nothing to do but get on with it, I suppose. Unless we all want to combine our monthly allowances and buy the thing ourselves (yeah, right) we'll just have to put up with the occasional aggravation. Generally, they have been pretty good and I have few complaints.

And snit does happen now and then. Cest la vie, I suppose.

Another open letter. This time to Sgt Uncle T:

Sgt Uncle T,
You're a jerk. I just want to get that out in the open right away. You told us all that you were going in for surgery on the 4th and that it was pretty serious. Apparently you told Sausage that your wife would call and let us know how you were doing. She never called. Your phone is shut off and you are not answering emails either. Nobody has your wife's number so we can't call her. What the snap? Everybody keeps driving me crazy asking how you are doing and I can't tell them anything. I ask Lt Muppet every now and then if he's heard anything (since you guys live so close to each other) and he hasn't heard and he's getting as pissed off as I am about everyone asking. So I am going to quit bothering him before he snaps at me again.

Just so you know, if you were here right now I would grab your nose like Moe did to Curly all of the time and twist it until you gave me your wife's phone number and email address. Then I would twist it some more until you said that you were very very sorry and promised never to make me worry like that again.

Then I would call you a jerk again. So there!

Today, being Friday the 13th, is Leprechaun Day. Let's hope one offsets the other. It's also Blame Someone Else Day and Frog Jumping Day.

I'm all for blaming someone else. Think I'll blame Sgt Uncle T since he isn't around anyway. That works, hey?


  1. Blame someone else day?


    I'm blaming Google for everything. The chair problem, the stupid Allan Wrench, the weather, the mud on my carpets, my dog's rash, Sgnt Uncle T's need for surgery in the first place...

    And doesn't he have emergency contact information in his file? Why can't you just look in there for his wife's number.

  2. I blame Chanel. And George Bush.

  3. We could set up a lemonade stand and raise the money to save the, I mean, buy the website.

    (The captcha word is either "No who" or "Now ho")

  4. Chanel- I'm sure he has the contact info in his file. I'm just not allowed access to his file. And those who have access aren't supposed to give it out to anybody except in case of emergency. My frustration does not seem to be an emergency.

    Brent- Chanel might thump you for that! Or send you her ghost.

    Bryan- I have a feeling we would have to sell a whole lot of lemonade. Wait, I got an idea! Let's get the gang together down at the old barn and put on a show! yeah!

  5. Oh, yeah. Forgot about her ghost. Never mind, then. I blame Chanel's ghost.