#*snirk*

[theladysnowbird]

#Circe#*dying*

WHAT?

[wistsandmagic]

We've been having too much fun making humanformers. Just leaving this here for now so I don't lose it. Glyph did some, I did some. Just fun times.

[wistsandmagic]

I'm beginning to wonder if I have infected a couple other people with the Transformers brainworm, judging by my dash. Or at least helped.

[theladysnowbird]

Rel, shut up.

[theladysnowbird]

#bless her heart#give her another ice cream don't ask her to go to the gym#*keeping a straightface*

....I will bite you. Again.

[sat-ona-tuffet-archive-blog]

I'm so not into KLK anym- *sees Mako blog* DONT L O S E YOUR WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

[deeisace]

That post about cats' names got me remembering about all the ridiculous animals we've had. So, because I'm a weirdo too, I'll tell you about them. Keith basically lived in the fruit bowl and would hiss if you tried to get an apple (she was fine about everything else but if there were apples in her vicinity she would hiss. They lived in the fridge after we figured it out, because you couldn't get her out of the fruit bowl, no way). Lulu once brought in a half-alive bird and put it on mum's pillow because she wasn't awake to be pleased about this fabulous gift. Mum, despite our last name, is terrified of birds, and after this happened about four times, Lulu went to live with my grandmother. Dickhead was our outside cat when we lived in Wales. For a while there was a line of copper kettles on the window ledge of the goose-barn/pottery, and he'd knock them off one at a time. In the day, most of the time he'd wait until there was someone to stare at (usually though the kitchen window), but he did it at night sometimes, and then the geese would wake up and make even more of a racket. The copper kettles were in the 'hall' cupboard after about two weeks. Our terrier Bean is afraid of the wind. Even if she hates everyone in the room (which is likely, she's a grumpy cow) she'll find a knee to sit on. Also, about once a week she'll go and sit in the woodspace underneath the hearth for ten minutes, never any longer. If ever I sit on the floor, Jed (he's the big hound we were trying to find a name for) will come and sit on me. If I am sat on the sofa with my feet on the floor he'll sit on them, or once I was reading outside and he lay right over my back, the silly sod. He's never done it to anyone else, but he does it twice as often when he's nervous, if people are visiting or cars go past. Our welsh cob Jim would nibble your shoulders for an apple. Him and Nel hated each other with a passion but if one of them was took out the field they'd be really sad about it. Nel would brighten up when she saw Jim again, and then bite him in celebration. Nah, they were fine most of the time, and then Nel had Murph to pick on so she was happy. All of my dad's dogs over the years have loved crisps. The current one, Treacle, will also badger for anything with strawberries. Come to think of it, Jed likes strawberries too. The alpacas are all weirdos, but Rosie takes after her mum in that they both have a proper face on them (which is why Deirdre Barlow is called Deirdre Barlow), and she sits away from them all and jumps when it rains. Alan is a cheeky bastard and will stare right at you when he barrels down the hill. Daisy does this too, and spits at you when she gets to you, just for good measure. Steve chases Rosie round like a mad thing, he'll be glad when Alan is back with them tomorrow (we're taking Eclipse back). I can't think of any more pets, but we had 5 geese who all hated me for no reason whatsoever. And some runner ducks Bean would try to get to throw her ball. One was called Caroline and ended up being a drake. -- Alf also seems to have amassed a collection of taxidermied animals, and skulls as well. They've mostly been packed away for three years but still. There's an armadillo, one of those tiny crocodiles, a fox head called Sally, snake skin from India 20 years ago, goat skin lampshades from Morocco, bird feet brooches, a badger skull, a finch skull, there used to be a cow skull but I don't know where that went, he still leaves wishbones out in the kitchen hid from mum but for ants to find, crayfish skeletons-or-whathaveyou (I found one in the river yesterday! We get European crayfish in our river, which is rare because of the American invasive ones in most others) and a pickled pig. I'll tell you about the pickled pig. When I was about 7, we lived in a town down south called Towster for 3 months ish. The local was called The Pickled Pig, because, don't ya know, it had a Victorian science specimen of a preserved-in-formaldehyde Siamese piglet in a glass jar on a shelf behind the bar (there was some old hospital-type building closed down near by which had interesting things in the basement). It had been there for years and years, but in this 3 months we lived there, the bar got new owners (not new owners, new managers or whatever, they lived upstairs). The wife worked the bar, but she couldn't stand this pig, so it went on a shelf in the kitchen instead. The husband would complain to the punters about this pig and his wife, and Alf was there to hear it once - logical conclusion, Alf'd take it off his hands. But the pub wouldn't be The Pig without a pig, so it took about a month and a oner for Alf to convince him. And then we had our Pickled Pig, in 2007, a crew bar at Pilton. The mirror mum painted the sign on got broke in the move here though, which is a shame.