rUMBLY tUMMY

I am hungry, my tummy’s rumbly, my money has yet to come from the reserve. Oh how I want those Indian dollars, so I can grab a burger or a pizza or a bag of marshmallows or a can of pineapples. Wait, I have a can of pineapples.

Well you’re probably all wondering where I’ve been. I have been without internet access for about a month now as punishment for having the dirtiest room in all of the Lower Mainland. My friend Lynn even lent me a copy of Hoorah for the Filthpackets to make me feel better about it. It’s that time of year again, when I remember all that befell me two years ago, and it brings me down down down. And so I live in squalor.

Until tomorrow, when I finally clean my dumb room.

It all started in Scotland, if you follow the matrilineal lines. Hey, is that even a word? Anyway, my mum’s mum was messy, my mum was messy, I am messy. Housework is not our strong suit. Growing up my mum had this poster on the wall of a woman saying “Housework, it’s, it’s a bitch!” True. There are other things I do well. Such as making things funny. Sometimes. If I’m in the mood.

Some people believe you are only as good as your ability to run an orderly household. If that is true, I’m going straight to hell. I saw a comic strip today of a girl with a messy room and her mother was telling her “Your room is where feng shui comes to die.” I think that pretty much sums up my room.

I had a lucky bamboo plant. I killed it. And it sat on the ledge for about six months. I can’t bear to throw away remains of a plant. Isn’t that silly?

Anyway, that’s about all I have to say today. Life’s been pretty crazy stressful, and I still have to find a new place to move, because much as I am a little bottom, I don’t like punishment.

If I had a cute redhaired girl boss me around things would be different. Send one my way so I can clean my room.

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