The Pet(s) For Me

Hello. I promised you a blog this week, and a blog you shall have. It won't be long, it won't be much. But I'm nothing if not honest, and I try to keep a promise.

You know, I'm a dog-lover. And I've said it before, but this is the longest I've ever been in my life dogless. I often think about taking the plunge again, but too many things are holding me back, mainly the fact that I work all day, live on a busy street, and have no fence. And I'm gone just about every weekend.

My friend the dishy Michelle is entering the world of dog ownership, and she's investigating all the options, trying to find the best dog for her lifestyle. She's a smart girl, that dishy one.

And so many people, many people who don't have dogs and wouldn't take care of mine if I got one, are urging me to get a doggie. Or even a cat. Now, I try not to be a cat-hater, and I'm not, per se, but I just can't warm up to cats. Mr M now has Alice the cat, and if I got a kitty that turned into something like her, well, let's just say I have that creek out back of my house, and....

No, I joke. Really, I joke.

Anyway, one day this week I got a goodie in the mail. I'd ordered it from Ebay, and it arrived. It was a comic book, one I hadn't seen before, and thought I'd get it for fun, well, it was fun until after I hit the "confirm bid" button and realized the extortionate shipping price attached to it. But by then I was confirmed and had to pay.

























It's a cute little book, and Sherman has his own story of going back to Roman times. I'm not so sure who, in 1972 when this was made, decided Sherman needed to be on the cover of this book dressed up like a Christmas tree. And apparently that summer at the beach did a number on his once-red hair.

In between the comics of Sherman, Rocky & Bullwinkle, and Boris & Natasha, there are ads. Imagine my surprise at finding an ad inviting me to blow myself up.

















Oh. But I read further and found I was being invited to blow myself up into a poster-sized picture of myself, which, when I think about it, is even scarier than blowing myself up with a cherry bomb. Three feet by four feet, people. Think about that.

But in those pages, I was taken back to my youth when I saw another ad. And I realized that if I'm going to leave the realms of the petless, this is how I need to do it.




















I've never understood sea monkeys. I mean, I think I remember finding out at one point of disillusionment that they're some sort of sea plankton, are the size of a pin head, and basically look like you have a dirty fish tank. Maybe all that came from some poor soul who bought them, I'm not sure.

But imagine! If you got a telescope for Christmas, you could take a few monkeys out and look at them. And is this the the wonderment you'd be presented with? I mean, hell, just look at Monkey Mom. She has a Jane Jetson hairdo, complete with hair bow! I don't know how her red lipstick stays on in that bowl of water, though. And Monkey Dad, standing upright, hand on hip - apparently sea monkeys are way more civilized than regular land monkeys.

Here's my favorite, though, in the print:

Best of all, we even show you how to teach them to obey your commands, like a pack of friendly trained seals. What a way to surprise your guests.

Well, I'd be surprised, I can tell you that. "Hey, Jim, watch this! Momo, fix Jim a scotch and water."

A Bowlful of Happiness, indeed.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* I'm blogging on the Friday of a holiday weekend. Yes, I am dodging doing my taxes, thanks.