PROBABLY PRETENDING TO BE A DOLPHIN

Can I see it, can I see? I want to touch it, squeeze it! Oh pretty please, prod prod prod poke poke poke!
This in high-squeal by a petite female person.

No, it's not what you think.
Unless you remembered that sebaceous cyst I mentioned a while back - then it is exactly what you thought.
I had an itchy episode yesterday at work, and now my evil twin skin Skippy is no longer trying to fight his way out of my upper back. News of which at first severely disappointed Savage Kitten (she is FASCINATED by Skippy and so wanted to be there when Doctor Jew lanced it), but then curiosity gained the upper hand. Prod prod prod, poke poke poke.
It's the spirit of scientific inquiry.



SAVAGE KITTEN

Cut to this morning.

When she wakes up she is full of beans. When I wake up, I am crusty, grumpy, and zombie-like.
I had barely gotten back under the covers, with my cup of coffee on the side table, when she came energetically bouncing onto the bed to tell me all about the virtues of baking soda.
Apparently it's great for cleaning. Works real well on caked-up crud.

Savage Kitten, being a contractor rather than an employee, has two extra days off while her company goes on a retreat to eat tofu, hug, practice trust-building exercises, thump drums, and commune with the dolphins within.

So yesterday, she decided to tackle the kitchen floor.
Probably as a result of those beans.

The "caked-up crud" on the kitchen floor was paint from the several times I've manufactured protest signs in there. Acrylic, brightly hued, as well as transparent. Plus gesso.

She accused me of being rather like a dog that went where it shouldn't, and needed cleaning after. When I pointed out that ALL middle-aged men are like that, she grabbed something to roll up and hit me with.

"YOU MESSED ON THE KITCHEN FLOOR! BAD DOG"
Smack.
"YOU SPLATTERED PAINT ALL OVER! BAD DOG, BAD!"
Smack, smack.
"YOU FILTHY CREATURE! BAD DOG! BAD DOG!"
Smack, smack, smack.


'Oh it wasn't all THAT bad, and after the paint hardened it was kinda decorative.....'

"THERE WERE ALSO DEPOSITS OF PINK DUST FROM ALL THOSE TIMES YOU WERE CARVING PIPES IN THERE, YOU HORRID OLD TOAD! YOU NEVER CLEAN UP AFTER YOURSELF!!!"
Smack. Slap. Whomp. Mediaeval.


'But sweetness, I often do the dishes and other stuff.....'

"IT'S NOT THE SAME!"
Mediaeval, big time. A flurry of whacking.


Fortunately she's only a small rowdy Chinese girl, rather than one of those big threatening overweight white she-oxen from the Midwest. And a rolled take-out menu is not particularly effective for chastising.
So I merely grunted and shifted sideways.

An hour later, putting myself together for the day, I asked her where yesterday's shirt had gone - I needed the little notebook in the pocket.

"I put it in the laundry. It probably smelled nasty, after what you squoze from the cyst."

'So you put it underneath stuff to keep me from grabbing it back.....'

"Not true at all! Why do you always think the worst of me, you paranoid old git?!?"

'Because I know you.....'

"Hah, you don't KNOW me!"


And right at that moment we both recalled that scene from Reno 911 when the two female cops were called to a disturbance at the whorehouse - the pervert who previously had thrown a tantrum over "juices, juices everywhere" was tied naked on the bed with a giant dildo strapped to his forehead.
As soon as he saw the two cops he started yelling "don't you judge me, you don't know me, you don't know me!"

Every time anybody said anything in that scene, he would holler "you don't know me, don't you dare judge me, you don't even KNOW me!"


"YOU DON'T KNOW ME, DON'T JUDGE ME!"


Dear reader, if you saw someone buck-naked with a giant dildo on his forehead, you would probably believe that you knew him far too well, and you didn't want to know anything else - certainly enough to judge him, right?
Doesn't a giant dildo strapped to the forehead tell you more than you really need to know?
Enough, by a wide margin, to be thoroughly judgmental?
Yes, you know him. You know him plenty.

As I left I promised her that if I EVER found her spread-eagled with a giant dildo strapped to her forehead, I wouldn't judge her. Stand off to the side, maybe, to have a better view - but I would not jump to any judgments.

'I know you, woman.'

I could hear furious howls of outrage behind me as I left the building.
Something hit the door after I closed it.
Coming home tonight is gonna be interesting.