heh

[flea]

So, yesterday the phone was ringing and ringing all afternoon, and it was a fax machine calling us. mr. flea got fed up and technologically creative, so he set the computer to answer the line and intercept the fax so he could reply and tell them to knock it off. The fax comes through and it is student grade reports, directed to the Looniversity, that happen to be from my own high school, the schmancy prep school I attended and at which my mother taught for 12 years. These aren't lists of classes taken and grades received - at schmancy prep schools you get little paragraphs like "Manson has really put in a lot of effort since the midterm, and tackled his final project of breeding guppies with a new sense of resolve." (I know, I used to help my mother write the damn things when she was a teacher. Did I mention that among the authors - teachers little Manson (not his real name) has had, are the man who taught me calculus, and the father of the adorable little boys I babysat for, who were only allowed to watch nature specials on PBS and called me "flea chickadee"?) So mr. flea sent the following fax to the number that was dialing us (paraphrased): "Manson is a highly talented and capable student, as well as a gifted violinist. He has high ambitions and the motivation to push himself, and would make a great student at the Looniversity. Unfortunately, his choice of a person to send faxes on his behalf seems to have been misguided, as these vital faxes are reaching a private home in Our Town. We hope that this sad situation can be resolved before Manson's future is ruined."

I hope somebody in an office in CT has a sense of humor, because my husband is one snarky bitch.

In other news, Casper has her first true goose-egg, from running into the dining room table. Owch, poor bunny. But then I look at the bruise on my leg from where she bit the hell out of me for fun at the doctor's office, and I feel slightly less sympathetic.