An Englishman in New England

Feeling uncharacteristically democratic, I am, yes, mmm. Below cower the seedlings of two separate posts. See how they tremble! For you see, they both know that one shall live, be completed, and go on to join its worthy brethren in the blog-valhalla known as An Englishman in New England, living out its days eating ripe meat off the bone and drinking malt beer from neverending flagons.

They also know that the other shall be cast down as unfit for any but the most corrupt data-infested recycling bin, rubbing shoulders with temporary internet files, and that Jessica Simpson MP3 you downloaded for its catchy beat, and then reconsidered your terrible, terrible actions.

They know you shall choose their fate. Choose wisely.

The Truth About Allergies

"Mummy, what causes my allergies?"

"You see little Horatio, when you were stuck in Mummy's belly, she made some bad lifestyle choices, which included hanging out with Andy Warhol, and more or less blocking out any semblance of reality behind a decade-long blizzard of cocaine, binge drinking and Brady Bunch reruns.

When Mummy finally came to sometime in the 80's, you were there, although she didn't quite remember the actual birth, as well as some unpaid gambling debts that came back to haunt her. . .

An Interview With My Cat

How rude of me not to introduce you all to my newest family member? I do apologise, and hope to make it up to you with an in-depth profile of someone I wait upon hand and foot, and whose shit and piss I clean up every day, yet am still fond of. Her. . .I'm fond of her, not her shit and piss.

AEINE: Penny, thanks so much for taking time out of your hefty schedule of licking your anus, and shedding fur directly onto my eyeballs while I sleep to answer my questions.

P: No problem, Biggest. Just know that I feel a hefty turd on the way, and unless you change that fucking litter before it comes, I'm not taking responsibility for where it lands.

AEINE: Duly noted. Now for my first question: How does that taste? You know, that thing you're licking. . .