Killer Shoes

As any good serial killer knows, the key to carrying off a successful murder is planning. That's why these shoes are such a perfect gift for the up-and-coming psycho in your life:

Wear these regularly for a few weeks before the big day, and no one will bat an eye when your rival for the booth at the craft fair goes missing. Especially if it looks like she was the victim of a tragic horse-kicking.

(Credit to Refinery 29 and Joe for these.)

Coke Means Coke

Courtesy of the Utah Attorney General, a list of all of the slang terms used for methamphetamine.

I'm partial to "The Jenny Crank Program."

Also, apparently, if you are walking around Wal-Mart for nine hours and don't buy anything, you are "geeked." No word on what you are if you do buy something.

(Thanks to Karen for this one. I'm not going to ask how she found it.)

Vote for Mom!

Not long ago I posted this link on my Twitter feed, along with the request that all and sundry visit it and vote "yes" in the poll they find there (lower right-hand part of the page, you may have to scroll down). I was going to post a full explanation here, but the fact of the matter is that would require an intricate knowledge of the management of sewage treatment systems and the operation thereof, and you really don't care. So instead I will just point out that "yes" is, in fact, the correct answer, and it is also the answer that is in support of my Mom, who is a very good Mom and can use all the yes votes you can spare.

And, as an added incentive/threat, as soon as we get it to 200, I will post a new installment of The Cute Streets, as soon as I write it.

Also: Bonus! If you visit the site you will be treated to this police blotter item, possibly the most Marinish police blotter item in the history of Marin. Or police blotters.:
A mother on Waterbury Lane called police after she got into an argument with her son during which he broke a crystal candleholder with a tennis racket in anger.

The Cute Streets: Tales of a Roomba Kitten

It's an adorable city. A cute, fuzzy, adorable city. But sometimes, sometimes things happen that are just a little too adorable. That's where I come in

My name is Mipsy, and I'm a kitten. I ride a Roomba.

It was another perfect Tuesday, and I was sitting in the office, shooting the breeze with my partner Nipsy (no relation) when the call came in. It came from the Chief's office, so we went over to see what the shouting was about.

Our Chief, Mr. Flufferwinkles, looked up at us from his ball of string.

"Mipsy, Nipsy, glad you're here. We've had a case just come in." He batted a folder full of papers around on the floor. "Cokes have been exploding and going flat all over the city. We think the Diver Boys may be involved. I want you two to look into it."

"Sure thing, Chief," I said. "Where do we start?"

"Try under the big tree. There's always something shady going on there. And take the new recruit with you. he needs some time in the field."

"If you say so, Chief."

"And, kittens, be careful. It's sticky out there."

The new recruit, M'Lady's Duke of Wigglesworth (we called him Fred) was so fresh his eyes had barely opened. While Nipsy tried to get him to stop romping around for long enough to explain the case, I snuck a few laps from the dish of cream I kept under my desk. It was shaping up to be another one of those days.


We headed out to our ride, a silver original-model Roomba with extra brushes, backup batteries and stealth mode. Not the prettiest girl on the lot, but she corners like a dream, and never falls down the stairs.

We started off towards the field, and immediately Fred was a problem.

"I wanna sit in front! I wanna see! Can I drive? Can I?"

He didn't understand about riding a Roomba, about how the sides slope down and how it turns whenever it meets an obstacle. Which is why he was bouncing around like a fool, which is why he slipped and fell off, and rolled down into a pile of leaves.

"No!" Nipsy cried. "We lost him!"

"Oh no we didn't," I said, turning the Roomba around by batting at the sensor. "We're going back."

"But he's gone!"

"Dammit, Nipsy, no kitten left behind! Not this time!"



To Be Continued. . .

This Has Probably Been Going Around the Internet Forever

But hey, I always get to these things late.

Question: if you blog something someone posted on Twitter, do you still need to put "RT" in front of it to give credit? Just in case: RT @ColleenLindsay to RT @bsandusky: this post.

Which really just consists of this list, but what I want to know is, how did the name of my own dear departed cat end up on item #9? Is Japan watching me?

Redwood City Crime Wave!

From my work email inbox this morning:

"There have been reports that thieves have recently been stealing the catalytic converters of certain vehicles, especially Toyota pickup trucks and SUVs, in the Redwood City area. These thieves go under a target vehicle and quickly remove the converter with special tools. At least two such thefts have occurred in [our] complex in the past few weeks – one of them last Friday in the parking lot in front of building H."


The thrills, they never end.

Huh, How Did That Get There?

A friend of mine who has a career in the field of justice (and who must remain nameless here for the sake of her job) is currently involved in a case in which the following sequence of events is featured:

[Cop responds to 911 call reporting a shooting. Arriving at the scene, he questions a potential witness.]

Cop: hey, have you seen a shooter?
Man: no
Cop: hey, have you been shot?
Man: no
Cop: why is your neck bleeding like that?

[cue ambulance siren and SWAT team]