Disney Transvestites

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Biggest Baby on Earth

"Rudyard, I'm changing out your sheets."

What? Changing out my sheets? What's wrong with my old sheets? What are you going to do to my blankies? No, no, no; I need that. Don't take that out! Why are you taking out my snake toy? Why are you taking out my bunny toy? I need those. Those need to stay. Don't shake out my blankies like that! They have stuff in them! Why didn't you tell me before--I could've moved things around for you!! What are you doing? Why are you putting that downstairs? That doesn't belong there! No, don't take my green bed! No, don't shake it out! Noooooo, leave it there!!!

Oh. Oh you're putting in my sleeping bag! I love that sleeping bag! Where was it before? I haven't seen it in forever! Where is the hole I had in my sleeping bag? Oh, you sewed it up. Well, that's no fun. But I do like my sleeping bag.

Oh! It's my snake and bunny toy! Whew! I thought you were throwing those out. Why are you putting them in different places? I'm just going to move them around--you just wait and see!

Look, Mom, I'm inside the little house you put in downstairs! Hey, isn't this my outdoors house? Well that's okay, because I hate going outside anyway. Oh goodie, my green bed! You're putting it in my little outside house that's now inside. Why is my bunny toy going in here? I betcha I'm gunna move it. Although, I do like having a cuddle-friend when I'm downstairs, so maybe not. We'll see.

What are you doing with my robot blankie? Oh, you're putting it over my Genie doll. Oh goodie! You know I like to hide my food and you're making a hidey-place for me!

Whew. You scared me for a moment, Mommy. I thought you were throwing everything out.

I have no mouth... and I must sleep...

Okay, okay. The title doesn't make any sense.

(For those of you who don't know, the original title is I Have No Mouth and I must Scream, which is a short story by Harlan Ellison. It's really great, and you can read it here.)

But I don't care if the title doesn't make any sense because I'm so sleepy. Sleepy sleepy sleepy.

The cats have been very needy today. I just didn't understand why. Douceline was sitting and meowing at me for the longest time. I didn't know what she wanted. Finally I went to set up the fountain in the hallway (it had been clogged this morning, so I took it apart for cleaning) and all the cats came in like I had rung some sort of dinnerbell.

It was pretty funny. Cats are either dumb or picky. I can't tell.

More Puppy Love

I've been visiting the dog pound a lot lately. Last time I went was a few days ago with Sam. We met this cute little pair that had just gotten in that morning. They were sisters and scared stiff. When they finally decided they liked us, the dominant one kept trying to bring our heads down so she could kiss our faces.

(FUN FACT: Dogs like to be on the same eye-level with those they are interacting with. That's why they jump up to greet you!)

So the picture up there with the nice red mark is my branded puppy love. She was precious. I didn't even know she had knicked me until I got home and Sam said something. Actually, I didn't even believe him until I saw it for myself in the mirror!!

You've got egg on your face!

Yesterday I boiled one of my mom's chicken eggs. I intended for it to go hardboiled, but the eggshell cracked open and I wanted to remove it. Although now that I think about it, it probably would have been okay.

Rudyard was running about.

He got mad at me earlier that day because I rudely woke him up and took him outside. The weather was very beautiful, and for some reason I insist on him enjoying the outdoors. Alas, he is too much of a comfort weasel.

Anyway, Rudyard was so pissed with me when we got back inside, he disappeared. I didn't go actively searching for him because I knew he was safe and probably in one of his stash-spots. I found him under the TV stand, sighing and looking pathetic.

So, when I got back to work, I let him out and he was going all kinds of crazy. Sam and I chased him around. Bowie chased him around. Even Church wanted to chase him for a bit.

I got the soft boiled egg and cracked it open. I've been wanting Rudyard to try egg for a little while; he's just so damn picky. I can't get him to eat any sort of meat, even when I mix it in with his normal food. Whenever I do that, he usually lets it sit there until it goes bad.

So I take a piece of egg white, which has solidified, and put a wee bit of Ferretvite on it. Rudyard goes nuts for the Ferretvite (as usual) then takes the egg white and stashes it under the TV stand. Sam removes the egg white, because who wants rotting egg in the living room?

I try to get Rudyard to try the yolk. The nature of a soft-boiled egg is that the whites get cooked and the yolk doesn't. Now, it is one of my mom's chicken eggs so there is no fear of salmonella or any of that crazy nasty stuff you risk when you get store-bought eggs.

At first, Rudyard doesn't care to even look at it.
I put it on my finger. He sniffs it, and then goes crazy.
He can't stop licking the egg yolk. I try to get him to eat directly from the plate, but he only wanted to lick my fingers.
He kept licking and licking. He got egg yolk all over his face and on his whiskers. When I took him back to his cage, he didn't want his yogie-treat, he wanted egg yolk!

I've read that ferrets normally enjoy egg. I just didn't know they would dig it this much!! I hope his poop doesn't come out runny.

Bowie Tries

Bowie really really likes Rudyard's bedroom.
So much.
But Rudyard hates it when Bowie is in there.
So much.

Today, he finally told Bowie that he didn't like it.
Rudyard was running about, decided to run back into his cage (I'm not sure why; maybe for a drink, maybe for some food, maybe to see if he can whisk a treat out of me). He sees Bowie lounging in his blankets, and he freezes.

At first, he says nothing. His whiskers droop all the way down, down into the bedding, and then he attempts to walk around Bowie's billowing fur so he can head to the upstairs platform.

Bowie leans back. Oooo, he is one happy kitty. He's purring, he's drooling; you can see it in his eyes that he is in pretty-much-bliss.

As Bowie leans back, he extends a paw. Affectionately, like kitties do, he poked Rudyard. Was he enticing him to play? To cuddle? I don't know. All I know is that Rudyard bit him.

Pounce!
Right into Bowie's fluff!
And he hit some flesh because Bowie let out a whimper.

I immediately broke up the fight. It wasn't much of a fight, but I know both parties were very upset and emotionally hurt.

I gathered Bowie up, cuddled with him a bit, and told him that Rudyard didn't want the large cat into his pad anymore. I apologized. Bowie seemed okay.

When Rudyard came back out of his cage, he and Bowie decided they still wanted to be friends. So they chased each other around a bit. Only when Rudyard got lost in Melody's closet did they decide to separate.

A Good Story

I'm working the evening at the library; my evening of course. It's about an hour 'till closing. It's nice and quiet. A couple clickity-clacks of some keyboards, but not much else.

A young group of girls come in. There are three of them; they look like they may be anywhere from 12 to 14. They ask for tickets to get on the computer.

When I give a ticket to first girl, she looks at me, speculating.

"You young," she tells me. "You 18?" She's got that Southern black-girl twang in her dialect. Fitting, of course, because she is a Southern black-girl.

"Nope," I say. "Nope, I quite a bit older."

"Like what?" says one of the other girls. "Like 30?"

"Maybe," I tell them with a laugh. I don't like to tell people my age. If folks know how young I am, I worry that they'll attempt to take advantage of me or refuse to see me as an authority figure.

The girl that was talking the most says, "You know I look older than I am."

Coming from a girl still wearing her training bra, it was a cute comment. She was a sweet little kid.

"Do you have kids?" one of them inquired.

"Ha; uh, no."

"Then you ain't no thirty," the talkative one says. This made me laugh really hard. There are some things you just can't keep inside.

For the sake of my friends who are thirty and do not have kids, I inform the girls that it is possible for women that age to not have children.

"Oh," they say, then they ask if they can use the computers. I tell them yes and hand them computer tickets to log on. When they left that evening, they wished me goodnight.

Uh-Oh.

I have a problem.
I'm in love with more puppies.

There are some really wonderful dogs on the Canine Rescue website, and I want them all.

Puppy Love

You know what makes me roll around and melt on the floor?
Besides Rudyard, I mean?

Puppies.

Puppy-dogs. Dogs. Whatever. You name it. Melt into butter. The kind that was left outside. Because you had a picnic.

Check these two babies out:

Oh snap.
Their cuteness? It's all real.
The one of the left has some shaggy hair, the one on the right was short-haired with a nekked belly. They are less than two months old! Can you believe it?

I squeed.

Also, check it out; I've got an uke:

Now Natalie can love me. XD

Unfairness

You know what? I'm sure SOMEHOW authors have issues and trouble getting published and they have to use their willpower and patience.

BUT there are so many crappy books out there!
Is it because it is safe to write a crappy book? Are really good books just too dangerous to write?

I know I'm conceited in saying this, but I wrote a really really good book! I wrote it and I illustrated it. It's a piece of nonfiction--usually that can sell pretty well, right? I mean go upstairs in our library. We don't have enough space for all of the textbooks, memoirs, background & history, how-to's, travel guides....

Everyone has told me that they enjoyed Year of the Rat. Are hoighty-toighty publishers to fancy for an independent first-timer? I mean, I even tried the companies that have a higher success rate with first-time authors.

Another publishing company said they only took black-and-white graphic novels. I said, YOU CAN MAKE IT BLACK AND WHITE. JUST TELL THE PRINTER TO DO BLACK-AND-WHITE PRINTS.

Nothing.

I read that first-time authors should also anticipate critique from publishing companies. Good critique. Helpful stuff. Well, I didn't get anything. Unless the black-and-white thing was a critique. And if it was, that's a weird critique.

What should I do? Send my chicken-shit romance novel that I collaborated with Victoria with because we were bored to some publisher? Yeah, I could send it to the Harlequin books. I mean, the story makes no sense. You don't even know what time period you are in. And the sex-scenes are probably not even explicit enough. I don't even know if there is enough foreplay, or sexual tension.

I guess I'm just mad because I don't know what it is. Maybe I have no patience, or maybe I think I'm better than I really am. Maybe I'm full of myself, fuller than my can of Mountain Dew.

Blechity blechity blech.

Meet the Sloths

Meet the sloths from Amphibian Avenger on Vimeo.

The Pied Piper Not Necessarily from Hamlin

Sam told me and the ratties this one night as a bed time story. His story is what inspired my story:

Once there was a town full of weasels and rats. They lived happily together, but there were people who overran the town. It got to be such a problem, the town had a meeting and decided to call the in the Pied Piper who was a rat.

Well, the Pied Piper sent all the people into the ocean where they swam about. The rats and weasels were so happy, but they soon realized they didn't have the money to pay the piper.

Well, the piper got mad. So he played his little flute and took all of the rats out of the town and into a special place where rats were only allowed, but the weasels could visit.

In the end, it turned out all right because rats and weasels are better living with rats and weasels. It's more fun that way.

The Pied Piper of Hamlin

Once upon a time, my city was overrun with people. Everywhere a rat looked, there was a person in the gutter, on the street, and even in cars!

Whenever one tried to have a meal, there was a person scampering across the table.

I remember trying to just take a nap on the beach, and there were people climbing all over me and around me.

My cousin Jeremiah had a fancy party once, and he was so embarrassed when people just started running into the rooms and across the floors of his house.

It was disastrous. Late at night, we could hear them running in between the walls and upstairs in our attic. My sister, Snowy, just couldn't sleep. I had to make her hot cocoa and put on some classical music just so we didn't have to hear the lumbering feet of the people.

One day, we decided to have a meeting at City Hall. The mayor, Mr. Rufus Ratfield, stood at the podium and cleared his throat.

"We have a problem," he said and everyone squeaked in agreement. "There are so many people about. We've tried hard to get rid of those pests. We didn't leave food out for them to find; we even created people traps. But they just won't stop breeding and making more people."

"And they're so big!" my Ma yelled out, holding my baby brother Fester. "They are so noisy. And not just at night, during the day too."

"I can't go to the beach anymore," Mrs. Frumpy, our neighbor, cried.

"The last picnic I had, I didn't even get to eat!" said Gadget's dad, Mr. Button. Gadget is my best friend.

"I know," said Mayor Ratfield. "I know. Like I said, we have a problem. But I'm out of ideas. Does anyone know what we could do?"

"Spray them!" said someone in the crowd I didn't know.

"Get the dogs to attack them!" cried another.

"Have a people-shooting-day!" someone else said.

"These are not very good ideas," the mayor said from the podium. "We'll just have dead people laying around in our streets. No one wants that. We can barely move them, they are so big."

"I have a friend," said Ms. Hushabee, "who knows a rat-fellow who had a problem just like ours. He called this pianist to come."

"A pianist?" said Mr. Button. "What is he supposed to do? Put them to sleep?"

"I know who you're talking about," said Elder Corn Nut. "He didn't have a piano, he had a flute. Or some kind of wind instrument."

"That's right," said Ms. Hushabee. Her memory isn't what it used to be, or so I've been told. "He had a flute. Or maybe just a reed. I don't know. But he played the people out of the town they were in."

"It was like magic," said Elder Corn Nut. "He just started playing and they started leaving."

"Well, that sounds great!" Mayor Ratfield cried happily. "We should call him. Does anyone know how to contact him?"

"Well, yes," said Elder Corn Nut. "But I've heard that he is very expensive. With a mean temper."

I don't like meanies. I looked at my Ma and Pa, and they looked at each other very worried.

"How expensive are we talking?" my Pa asked.

"He asks for a stash of one thousand rats."

Everyone in City Hall was very quiet.

One thousand rats! That would mean that everyone in the city would have to hand over their stash.  Even Gadget and I would have to pitch in, and we've been saving up for the new video game, Time Trigger. We barely had enough for Ape Island.

"Well, we might be able to work that out," said Mayor Ratfield. We all gasped.

"How?" someone asked.

"Well, if our city millionaire is willing to take care of the majority profit, we could certainly have enough." Mayor Ratfield and the rest of the city suddenly looked at Mrs. Burn.

She was a mean, wrinkly old rat. Her whiskers were wires that drooped down crookedly. She had so many wrinkles on her snout you could barely see her nose. Her little paws were smaller than mine, crinkled up like dry grapes.

"Figures," she snorted. "Tax the wealthy."

"We will be able to pay you back in time," said Mayor Ratfield.

Everyone agreed in unison. Although, secretly, the thought of it made us all uneasy. If we all owed Mrs. Burn something, then she might take advantage of us. She was mean like that.

"Aren't the people bothering and ruining your house too?" asked Mayor Ratfield. "I'm certain we can repay you within a year's time."

"Fine," she said huffily. "Yes, I can do that." She didn't seem to like it so much.

Everyone cheered happily.

"I will call the piper today!" said Elder Corn Nut excitedly.

Gadget and I were so happy, we ran around town singing, "No more people in our streets! No more people to steal our eats!"

Everyone liked our song and joined in with us.

Several days later, the piper showed up.

He looked very fancy and had very fancy clothes. The only thing that wasn't fancy was his little flute, which was old looking and used up. It was attached to a rope that was attached to his belt. His snout was always cocked upwards, like he was smelling something bad all the time. His hat was very big, like a big mushroom on his head.

"So, you want me to take care of all these people?" has asked haughtily to the mayor.

"Yes please," the mayor pleaded. "We would be so grateful."

"You know the fee?" the piper asked, looking doubtfully about our little city.

"Oh yes, we have all discussed the fee in length. It's not a problem."

So, we all followed the piper out to the docks on the beach. We watched as he started to play. The music was a little awkward at first, then it played a bit more smoothly. It still wasn't very pretty music.

For a while, nothing happened.

Then suddenly, like a stampede, all of the people came wandering out of our city like zombies. They looked entranced by the music.

Everyone moved to the side because we knew the people wouldn't watch where they were going.

They walked through our city, every single one of them, and they walked out towards the docks. The piper kept playing. He didn't stop.

Suddenly, all the people jumped off the dock into the deep part of the water. They disappeared! I couldn't even see them anymore; not even under the waves.

We all watched in awe.

And finally, after what felt like forever, all of the people magically disappeared in the sea.

"Where did they go?" Gadget asked me. She was whispering. She was a little scared.

"I don't know," I said. "Do you think he turned them into fish?"

"I'm too afraid to ask," Gadget whispered. "He looks meaner than Mrs. Burn."

When everything was done and over, the piper went to city hall with Mayor Ratfield. When Mayor Ratfield opened the safe to reveal the stash of one thousand rats, everyone gasped in horror.

Barely anything was there!

"Do you think you're being funny?" the piper spat angrily.

"No, no!" Mayor Ratfield cried. "Mrs. Burn was supposed to be able to pay for the majority. Where is her stash?"

"She never brought it," said the Stash Collector. He had huge bruises on his face, probably from a vicious cane-wacking. "She said that she changed her mind. That we deserve to be overrun with people if we can't pay for anything ourselves."

Everyone was horrified.

"I come here from far away," the piper hissed angrily. "I come here from far away with my magic flute, and you say you know the fee, but you don't have the fee. Do you think this is easy?" he started yelling. We all shrunk back.

"Well, we don't know," Mayor Ratfield cowered. "You made it look effortless. You did such a wonderful job."

"As mayor, you should have been aware of the situation before I put my lips to my flute!" the piper snapped.

"This is true, and I'm extremely sorry," our mayor said. "Just give us until the end of this day. We will have your fee."

"Fine," the piper hissed. He sat down at one of the chairs in City Hall. "I will not move here until I get everything I want!"

Everyone in the city ran to their houses. They gathered what they could of their stash, almost everything.

But a lot of people had been so excited that Mrs. Burn was going to take care of the majority, they had gone out and spent most of their stash on frivol from the traveling markets.

In total, we were short a stash of one hundred rats. Everyone was really upset. No one knew what was going to happen. After all, the piper had a magic flute. If he could send people to the sea, what would he do to us rats?

"Unacceptable," the piper said. He left City Hall. We followed him out to the edge of the town. He brought the flute to his lips, and we all sucked in our breaths.

What we heard.... what I heard... what me and Gadget heard... It was the prettiest sound ever. I don't know if I could describe it to you.

I'll try.
It was like, when you are in a dream, and everything in the dream is hazy. But you feel warm and happy inside. And everything in the dream is perfect. And when you taste a mango fruit, its the best and sweetest treat you've ever had. Or if you have a blueberry, the smell just makes your feet leave the air. And you feel like you're floating.

Anyway, the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. Prettier than church bells. Prettier than Mrs. Langpool's singing voice.

Gadget and I looked at each other, our eyes wide with excitement. Before we could even think, we started to follow the piper. Snowy came up beside me. We grabbed hands and started to skip. Fester tried to get out of Ma's arms, but she was holding on to him tight.

When I looked at the grown ups, they were afraid. I wanted to tell them, "Don't worry. This is going to be great." But they didn't look like they would understand.

All the children followed the piper, and the grown ups followed the children. We all frolicked up to a big mountain. Suddenly, a humongous door cracked open into the mountain. We all knew that we were supposed to go in.

Oh, the wonderful things that were beyond that door, I bet! The prettiest sounds, the ripest fruits. Happy dancing!

Ma grabbed my arm and I tripped down into the dirt.

Suddenly, I was hurting and when I looked down at my knee, it was bleeding. Snowy ran ahead of me, way ahead of me.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry," Ma cried while Fester struggled in her arms. But through her tears, she looked up and gasped. "Snowy!"

I looked at the big gap in the mountain.
Snowy disappeared in the darkness. So did Gadget. She didn't look back at me. I began to cry too, but not because I wanted them to come back. I wanted to go with them.

All my school friends left. Charlie, Pompom, Isabelle, Daisy. Fredericko, Mumpum, Bliggie, and Smartie.

They all went to the wonderful land that I couldn't go to. I could just imagine where they were going. Probably something like a Neverland, with no grown ups. And there were mermaids and pirates and adventures and the best fruits you've ever tasted.

I cried and cried. Ma and Pa grabbed me and cried with me.

The mountain closed up and the piper disappeared.

The End

Ode to Yeagle

Dean Yeagle is my one of my all-time favorite artists. Sam introduced him to me maybe a year-and-a-half ago. He has stayed with me ever since.

Dean Yeagle: This clock is inspired by you. I wasn't sure what to put on my clock-face, but Mandy dancing the day away seems the most appropriate.

Leave a message after the beep and I'll get BAAAAAA-ck to you

Where are the sheepies?!

Sam and I went to go visit the sheepies on Milledge, the ones across from the Botanical garden. They are gone! And the grass is knee-high! Where are they?

I miss my friend that had a blue spray strip on his/her side, and he licked my pants to oblivion. When he was done licking my pants, he wanted to eat my shoe. Where was Mr. Pants Sheep?

It's a mystery.

Sketch books, oh my!

I have one page left in my sketchbook. ONE PAGE.
I'm drawing a blank.
I don't know what to put on it.

The page before it, I drew a mermaid tattoo idea that I've had for a few years.
Before that, I attempted extreme scene detail. I was very proud of that one.
So what should I make now? It's just a big blank page. The back of it has scritchy-scratches all over it. So maybe technically, it's already ruined.

I'll have to think about it while I doodle in my new sketchbook.

Mouse on a String

Starring Rudyard and Mr. Mousykins in this A-MAZING video with the Venture Bros. theme song guiding them, here for your eyes is "Mouse on a String:"

More Babbies

Last pregnancy was false, but GUESS WHAT.
Not only are one couple of ferrets preggers, a SECOND couple are too.
They should be due sometime in June.
Here's my with my fingers crossed. ><

The Little Weasel that said No

Hi Little Weasel! The air outside is beautiful! The sun is shining and the birds are singing! Do you want to go outside?

"No," said the Little Weasel. "I don't like birds, and the sun is too bright for my eyes."

Hi Little Weasel! We are at the beach! Do you want to go play in the sand? Do you want to go splash in the waves?

"No," said the Little Weasel. "The sand is hot on my paws, and I don't like to play in water. It's too wet!"

Hi Little Weasel! It's snowing outside! Do you want to tromp around in the snow? Do you want to dig and make a tunnel?

"No," said the Little Weasel. "I don't like snow. It's too cold, and it gets all over my fur, and sometimes the snow gets in my  nose."

Oh Little Weasel, the outside is very nasty. The air is humid and sticky, and the ground is wet from all the rain. I do not want to go outside today.

"What do you mean?" said the Little Weasel. "This is the best kind! The ground is soft for digging, and I'm never too hot or cold! Let's go outside!"

The Little Weasel that said No finally said Yes! So we all went outside to play.

Adult