I can understand the attraction of an aquarium. All the little fishies drift about aimlessly; do nothing except eat, sleep and poop; poke into every corner of their confined space in constantly shifting configurations; as close to a macro view of Brownian motion (press Play) as it gets. Very soothing, very relaxing.
Such was the Barefoot Dirty Girls' 810 Fishback fish tank when Spring sprung yesterday - soothingly aimless, as usual.
After another one of their now-frequent long weekends (leaving Friday, returning Sunday), they returned just before noon. (I keep hoping that one of these times they just don't come back.) Just like a professional circus act, the car disgorged the three clownish BDGs, three or four dogs, and required at least three trips between car and house to unload all the treasures and baggage. (It is an interesting observation that when all three march together, Lyin' Lynda leads like an unpedigreed pit bull, egg-shaped Resectioned Red waddles side-to-side furiously in the contrail, and the bow-legged, pot-bellied Corkscrewed Cow Pie picks up the rear[s].) They certainly do cast a "professional" aura.
I'm sorry... I'm just so used to thinking of these venomous bitches as cartoons that I forget to humanize them (as much as is theoretically possible) for you, the more gentle, sensitive, undamaged reader. Anyway, here as they really are:
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After all, they had not been able to bestow their own special brand of TLC on their special herb twice daily for two-and-a-half days.
Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
how does your garden grow?
Hydrophonic, ultra supersonic,
or does it growww... naturally slow?
(lyrics in "Ganga Babe," by Spearhead)
For the rest of the afternoon and evening, the BDG's wandered around... and around... and around... constantly wandering.... They looked like they had lost something... (besides their minds).... They poked and sniffed every corner of their property, looking high and low, searching... they even stood around staring up into the sky... wandering off singly, or in all combinations of two out of three...
The whole afternoon was a condensed and refined version of the Sliding Numbers Puzzle they performed last summer with all their trash. At the rate they were going, it's no wonder they get the munchies (besides the pot smokin'... jus' sayin'....)
The oddest thing in the BDG fish tank yesterday, however, was instead of their regular 30-60 minute marijuana sessions with a few hours in between, it seemed they hit the Smokehouse every couple hours from the time they arrived until dark. Lunging, smoking... dodging, smoking... reeling, smoking... they acted like they really, REALLY wanted to get as high as possible. That, of course, made it even funnier to watch the THC-intoxicated Roly-Poly Red, or Lympy Lynda, or Curly Corkscrewed, as they bobbled and weaved from Smokehouse to main house for pee-pee breaks.
Yes, indeed, the signs of Spring are here!
'Course, this is California; Spring only last a few weeks (it withers slower than a BDG brain on dope.)
|Yes, that IS Yellow's normal expression. ("Duh... what?")|