Today, My Toaster Spoke To Me
Today My Toaster Talked To MeToday my toaster spoke to me,Of all of the things that she could see --A spoon-rest, the stoveThe microwave,the mixer, she says, whoDoes not behave.I listened, I learned, I stood there and trembled,Frightened to find my mind disassembled.What in the world? Oh,How could this be --Inanimate objects were talking to me!Would I now writelike a monkey on crack?Produce nothing but drivel,Turn into a hack?Then the spatula shouted, "Don't believe all that tripe!When you are in doubt, write a stereotype!Paint a broad, foolish st

Even MORE Pants Letters
Dear Gigantic Electronics Retailer:Good afternoon. How's every little thing since I left your Overland Park location? I'll bet things were humming along just fine after my visit this morning. Well, as fine as any gigantic retail cavern can hum while the employees are aspirating corporate puke, that is. What a fine time I had earlier with Jeff and your other helpful employee, my ex-boyfriend, whom I normally refer to as Satan's retarded little brother, but we'll call "Pickled," for our time together today. You know, I debated myself this morning. Your OP location is close enough that I could, basically, put my car in gear and drift there (except for two tra

Casa D'Pants, Episode II: Them!
My friend, the inimitable Uncle Al, is an attractive little alcoholic gimp, who now lives but a driver and a pitching wedge away from me. While we are in two different subdivisions, we have discovered that there is a shortcut between houses that takes most of the guesswork out of becoming shitfaced reprobates (our only shared useful talent.) I have known Al since shortly after moving to Kansas, and he is a terrific friend, mostly because Al moved into his condo from a legitimate house, so he has plenty of lawn and garden implements that I tend to need to borrow, as I own none of my own. He also has a Sam's Club membership and a refirgerator full of free beer. Now, before you get the ide

Casa D'Pants, Episode IV: Why I Remain Single
After many years of apartment living, the little things about being in a house are what delight me. I almost wept the first time I heard the "dong" of my doorbell (the "ding" is either on strike or dead; I can't be sure.) Since I am easily confused when it comes to 7th grade Science-based crap, parking in a garage means I never have to figure out how to defrost the windows on the car and risk the killing myself, my progeny and any hapless bastard that is unlucky enough to cross paths with me on a foggy morning again. But one of my greatest, um...joys of living here at Casa D'Pants is having both a front porch, and a deck.

Casa D'Pants, Episode Garbage Day!
In the Land of The Pants, there have been many exciting and wondrous changes of late -- not the least of which is that I recently began a new, full-time, work-job that takes me out of my home and into a small room with computers and co-workers. Yes, friends -- I'm a big girl now, with a steady paycheck and the quagmire of an office dynamic to wade through, forty hours a week (I work four, ten-hour days -- by choice -- instead of the more standard and common five, eight to nine hour days.) It can be grueling, especially at Hour Four of a day that began at 7 AM (with a wake-up time of 4:55 AM,) but I like the schedule; I need only "endure" two days in perpetuity to get to a day off.