Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap oh crap oh crap.
Yeah, two days from now marks two weeks. TWO WEEKS. What kind of mystic time lord stole all my time? (Dr. Who….) I swear it was right here a few days ago…like the last time I was in the coffee shop,sipping on my iced chai, writing about seven weeks and annoying bimbos. That was… five weeks ago. Wow. At 21 I am officially declaring myself ancient and time is passing me by at exponentially faster rates as it progresses. Soon it will all just be blur.
In lots of ways, I’m very excited. I mean, my super cool adventure starts soon! But in other ways, I feel like I’m that cartoon character digging in it’s heels before the cliff in an effort to slow the heck down. I haven’t eaten all the cheese yet! I haven’t drank all the coffee (nor the coffee flavored liquor…)! Not yet cheered on the dawgs to a win! Not yet spoken enough English!
Speaking of speaking of English, I will go ahead and let everyone know that I’ve turned into a chat-a-holic and will not stop running my dang mouth as if my life depended on it. I’ve never been good at self monitoring and control, and have been, uh, blessed with the ability to talk for far, far too long, but now my skills in the realm of shutting to hell up have sank as though tied to an anchor. I suppose it’s because the people I’m partial to will soon not be available to talk. That weirds me out. In an effort to compensate, I’ll do my best to fit in two years of Georgia Chat Time to help out, ya know, to quell their cravings. I already talk about inane crap as it is, but the subject matter now has widened. Anything and everything is on the table. Most common topic? Huey.
Huey will be my pet someday. I’m not sure how I go this laser-like focus and obsession into place, but here it is now.
I want a mini pig.
And I want it bad.
Not just any pig. Ppppssh, no. Huey is going to be a red striped mini pig, preferrable this sort: (http://www.teacuppigsforsale.com/super-micro-pigs/huey-red-striped) but less pricey. By a lot. I’ve got my sources on where to find mini pigs on the cheap-cheap, but I’m not spilling the beans. I don’t want any of y’all stealing my potential Huey.
Huey will live with me, but in the backyard some of the time so that he can express his pigdom as pigs are meant to do. He will have to wipe his tiny cloven feeties on a rug before he joins me, but I’d like to think that he’d take time out of his busy schedule to watch Dance Moms with me, or perhaps Jeopardy. I’d beckon him with heart-felt yodel of “huuuuuuuuEY!”. Like “sooey”, but better in every way. Huey would retire to his humble abode at the cessation of our fun-filled days, a domicile shaped like the famed structures the proud Inuit people once made their homes in. You can sometimes find replicas meant for dogs. It would be his Pigloo.
As you can tell, I’ve spent upwards of 5 whole minutes obsessing about this. I’d like to think that it’s developed into a borderline healthy infatuation, as I don’t have internet access often while I’m in Athens and therefore cannot stare at his lovely oinkalicious face on the regular.
I promise, dear readers, that if you are nice to me when I get back I’ll even let you play with the handsome fella. Maybe I’ll even let you come with us on our daily jaunts around the neighborhood, me in my Sketchers Shape-ups (which I proudly own) and he in his pig harness. Or perhaps I’ll get a front-carry baby sling, which I shall then christen his Pig Pack.
Don’t worry, though (Alison), I’ll still eat bacon. Just… on the down low. I don’t want his tiny hammy feelings to be hurt.