MO-RJITKU, not FJITKU, and me linkum!

Okay, so I have links!  Woo-hoo!  Okay, so they aren’t exactly *plural* just yet; I am using the term ‘linkS’ liberally.  I am working on it.  I finally finished the stuff I have been pecking at for the past three days, and got bored.  I am exhausted, and Son-Friend is coming over tomorrow to fix one of my toilets that just started running constantly a few days ago (which fascinates Squoosh, for some reason—he just sits and stares at the tank as if it were talking to him, or something), but tomorrow should be fairly peaceful.  I will fill in my links as I can.

No, rilly.  

My joke…  Okay, by popular request, but it requires a little explanation.  And I am also withdrawing my nomination of FJITKU in acceptance of the title of Most Obscurely-Referenced Joke In The Known Universe, a title one of my co-workers feels is more fitting.  And for what it’s worth, it has so far got two laughs, one yawn (you know who you are), and a plethora of confuzzled looks.  So it’s esoteric; it cracks me up.  

But then again, so did the bumper sticker I thought up:  I would be following you, but I am psychic.

Ok, Butsoanyway.  I am just going to have to cross my fingers and hope with this one.

Claire is probably in the top ten of Most Obnoxious Disembodied Voices Ever.  She is (or was, rather) dumb as a box of rocks.  She may well be one of the most unsuccessful interfaces since like…

Wow…sad.  I can’t off-hand think of something worse.  Poor Claire.  Okay, how about this:  She’s even more annoying than Catty.  Now that is an accomplishment.  

Claire *did* get fired.  Somewhat.  But that’s a long story.  Let it suffice to say that it isn’t often that Etherbitches (those oh-so-NON-helpful recordings!) actually receive death threats in the mail.  

So here’s my joke:

What begins with a 'C', ends with an 'R, E', and gets interrupted by Radio Habana in the middle?  Claire...in her new job at a Cuban numbers station. 

Hmmm…  I should perhaps set up a PayPal link for all this humour, hmm?

:-)  Giggle.

Claire:  “Atención!  Atención!  Cuatro Tres…  I’m sorry; I could not understand me…could I please repeat my selection again?  I’m sorry; I still could not understand me…let me transfer me to a representative who could help me…  Oh, I hate this job!”

Hee.  Interspersed with Oye Como Va, or something.  

Well, it’s the only Spanish song I know.  Well, except for La Bamba.  And that one about the cigarros and ferrocarrils, not that I know the name, or can even spell it correctly.  

Oh, pfft—as if everyone in Cuba knows Kalinka, or something.  Plus, I dated a Cuban guy for a while, except that he didn’t look Spanish, spoke English perfectly, and I actually thought that he was joking about being Cuban for probably the first three months we were going out, but that is mainly because he used an English nickname, and his surname *was* Spanish, but hell…like that means anything these days.  So I thought he was kidding; regardless, I am completely multi-cultural.  Sort-of.  Sometimes.

So I am mostly ‘Codia-Culture.  So what?  Hmmph.  

:-D

Butsoanyway.

In Other News, Mehitabel is looking quite porky.  Since I found Squoosh on 11 May and he was about four weeks old, I am guesstimating that I have maybe a couple weeks at the most left to catch her.  So I called Chrissy, and she gave me Brenda’s number—she’s the one who can pray cats into cat traps—and Brenda said that she will call me to set something up on Monday or Tuesday.  I hope, because I leave on Friday.  

Eek.

This is kind of like turning to a faith-healer when one is terminal.  Sigh.  Plus, Mehitabel’s on to me.  She will ask me for food, but she won’t come near enough for me to get her with the net.

Other stuff has been going on, but I really do need to get some sleep so that I can get up in time to hear PHC, and make sure Son-Friend doesn’t flood my house.  


G’night!