Party time

Her Majesty recovers from the stress of entertaining.

With one birthday down and one to go, things are back to what passes for business as usual around El Rancho Pendejo.

As you can see, Miss Mia Sopaipilla is greatly relieved. She is a creature of habit and not a fan of company, especially when said company evicts her from her bedroom.

And yes, of course Miss Mia Sopaipilla has her own bedroom. What are we, Nazis?

Meanwhile, our friendly local roof wizards have waved their wands overhead, just in time for what looks like a bit of spillover from the atmospheric river giving California such a brutal hosing.

Jiminy Chris’mus, South Lake Tahoe is starting to look like the ice planet Hoth, only with leaking roofs, exploding propane tanks, and rental cars stuffed into snowbanks, abandoned by fleeing tourists.

The Northeast is no better. Hijo, madre. And in between? Don’t ask.

Here, the worst we can expect is a bit of drizzle, maybe a soupçon of snow. And of course, the usual seasonal allergies as everything from azaleas to zinnias checks the long-term forecast and decides to scatter pollen far and wide, and all at once, too.

Ahhhhhh-choo! ’Scuse me.

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4 Responses to “Party time”

  1. Pat O’Brien Says:

    Ah, March, the month of joy and hope. Meanwhile. read the news and do your income taxes. Then sing along with me. “ Did you ever have one of those days…….”

    • Patrick O'Grady Says:

      The news. Oy, the news. It was so much simpler when we cranked out maybe one or two issues of the cage-liner per diem and then sat back to watch the local TV nitwits read our work word for word on the air. There was a moment to catch one’s breath back then.

  2. Herb from Michigan Says:

    Those fekking allergies. Drop em down a deep cistern and just think how productive we’d be. Well some of us…I imagine I’d still spend as much time snarking and getting my jollies from this blog.

    • Patrick O'Grady Says:

      It’s gonna be a fierce spring for the snotlocker, methinks. We have a week of rain, snow and wind in the forecast, and while it shouldn’t be epic like the weather afflicting the coasts and your neck of the woods — we got about a quarter inch of rain overnight — it should be enough to remind me of my misspent youth, when it was not uncommon to stay awake for a few days and nights pounding this and that up our noses, down our throats, and into our lungs.

      “I thig we are oud of cogaine, whidskey, and cigareds. Also money ad Kleedex. Snurf.”

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