Bellagio Hotel and fountains
I knew I was heading for trouble when yesterday I said goodnight to my iPhone. I’m only mentioning this because my entire household threatened to leave comments on Sheep about it and I want to get in first.
Then at midnight, there were really scary thunderstorms. The whole house lit up with forked lightning and big noise. The Dog is terrified of thunderstorms and has to be talked through these events. For some reason it’s always me who ends up talking him through it, while everybody else cowers under their doonas.
But last night Mrs Chook appeared, all wrapped up in the luxurious white cotton robe she bought at the Bellagio Hotel in Las Vegas a few years ago. She manifested in the doorway, momentarily illuminated by nature’s theatrics. I glimpsed her for one terrifying instant and then there was the thunder and then there was the darkness. I screamed and leapt out of bed, treading on the Dog who was cowering beside it. The dog howled and tried to get up, with his bad back leg hampering his progress. I fell and hit my head hard on the corner of the wardrobe. Then I cried. It was shambolic. I’m exhausted. I’ve had no sleep. There’s a big egg on my forehead. I’m sick of everybody and I need to find some new friends.
Re the cotton robe: these are supplied in the rooms at this hedonistic hotel. Some people wear them down to the pool. Mrs Chook fell in love with hers and expressed an intention to nick it. I yelled about that, seeing as it was my credit card being used to pay the bill, and she was shamed into going down to the lobby shop and buying her own.
Mrs Chook also insisted on wearing hers down to the pool, so I insisted on taking a later elevator so I wouldn’t be seen with her.
It’s my intention to write something serious later in the day, but first I have to go to my aerobics class, have coffee with a few people, and get iOS 5 on the iPhone so I can get into the iCloud, which is where I really want to be today.
In the meantime, New Matilda has this on how Chris Bowen lied about Malaysia.
And there’s always something interesting over at the Watermelon Blog, where David Horton gives an account of his latest contest with seabirds on Twitter.
And you have to read this in Slate about how Occupy Wall St is framed as an anti semitic movement.
See you later.
PS I just realised this is a post about nothing and I subconsciously stole that idea from Jerry Seinfeld. I hope this acknowledgment will forestall any litigation.
No Place For Sheep 
Why so peeved with Bowen? He’s a man. All men are liars- what’s to say?
Love the pix, so Bucharest 1956.
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All men are liars? Glad I didn’t say that.
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I know, it’s so set piece, isn’t it?
I see Dr Cannold is “active” on the tweets, just now.
Abbott is being a pig again?
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Abbott is being Abbott, but Mia Freedman on Mamamia reckons he charming and we should give him a chance cos people can change. The question is, is he a person?
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Ouch!
A while back, I was lying in bed when the cat started making furball-vomit-attempt noises, so I leapt up to put him up on the window ledge away from the carpet. Of course, half-asleep and in the dark, I leant over too quickly to grab him when he tried to escape my clutches and didn’t realise how close I was to a sharp bench corner. Whack! I headbutted the corner just above my eye and off to the doctor for a patch up. (We got away with using some sort of glue rather than stitches.)
I spent a day off work (not the type of job where you can get around with a split head) contemplating how close I get to winning a Darwin Award sometimes.
Hope you’re feeling better 🙂
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I’m totally recovered thanks Gruffbutt, been out all day doing stuff and am just about to watch the third episode of The Slap. I think the Dog has to go on valium or something when there’s atmospheric activity.
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