When one stays home by oneself for extended periods of time, one talks to one's pets, surrogate or otherwise, also for extended periods of time.

Here at TBA and Phyllis' house, we like to play, "Holy SHIT! Cat! How many times can you puke in a fucking day?"

It goes something like this:

TCWH (whistling whilst she works. Always.):

Hang on, TANGENT ALERT. While I would like to say that I was whistling something that would catapult me to ultrasupercoolness in y'all's minds therefore increasing my fame and notoriety by infinity, it ain't to be, folks. We whistle what we hear. Unfortunately for me, teacher of little kids and backseat baby accompanier, that means the Top 20 from TBA's Mommy and Me classes, which we animate frantically so the baby doesn't kill us for putting her in her car seat. Again. So, I was whistling "Shake Those Simmons Down.", although, without the accompanying jazz hands because I was vacuuming. And while I'm at it, what is a simmon? I assumed it was short for PER-simmon, but maybe it comes from the SIMMA! DOWN! NOW! family. So much stuff to think about, so little brain.

Resume.

TCWH (Still whistling. Still working): tweet tweet (how do you write a whistle?) (moving an activity chair out of the way) WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?! (leaning in for closer look.) UGH (when I'm on the phone with TBA, it's "EWWW...". When alone, exasperation will suffice).

Kitty: EEEET's puke, you house-less WIFE!
P.S. For the full effect, you must imagine the persian accent. Like "we are si-am-meeese, if you please..." Okay? If you pulleeeze.Oh wait, that sounded more like Alannah Miles' "Black Velvet". How about this? If you pleeeaaaase? Please stopping tangent to continue, please. Anyway.

TCWH: When did you upheave this anyway? 1999?

Kitty (coyly, licking paw): No, I only heeed it so you would happen upon it much, much later, after it has soleedeefied into cement, making it imposeeeble to cleeen up. Cleeerly pointing out how much you suck as a domestic engineer. (Shyeah, obviously I'm no linguistical expert, either. A cunning linguist, perhaps, but no expert. Oh God. Is that fresh air I smell?)

TCWH: Bitch.

Kitty: Strumpet.

TCWH (would it be embarrassing is I said I was yelling and stamping my foot at this point? During an imaginary conversation?): UGH! There's a fucking baby here! That crawls! On the floor! Did that not occur to you?

Kitty (unruffled): Of course eeet deed, amateur. That's why the puke ees een the smallest corner, behind the activity shair (morphing to french accent now, which makes no sense, either.), the baby will never toush eet! Nobody harms the precious.

TCWH (resisting urge to cough up a hairclump on Kitty): Oh Balls, CAT! BALLS! I have other things to do besides cleaning up vomit!

Kitty (grinning slyly): That's what you think! You're my beesh, now! bwahaha bWAhahaha BWAHAHAHAH!

Yup, that's what it's been like with oneself. Up in here. Thank God dh gets here tonight. Oh wait, I already said that. One more time: HE! IS! COMING! TONIGHT! No puns intended, dirty birdies, this is a family blog.

Now back to my regularly scheduled fucking off.

Off with y'all then.