When His Dog Dug Under the Fence ...

So I'm popping through all my bloggy friends' blogs, wondering what the heck I'm going to write about today, hoping I don't have to just start with some random sentence, like "When his dog dug under the fence to run away with the neighbor's Shitzu, Jimmy hung his head and queried ..." You know it's a dull day when a post starts that way. And I arrive at Chez Mental P. She has tagged me with a meme! Woohoo!

So now I have something to occupy both my time and yours! I have to ask a loved one (there's the sticky part - finding someone I love in this mad house) to list three random things about me. So I called down my two boys, who are still in their PJs. I asked them to eat some breakfast and get dressed, for Pete's sake. Then fielded questions about friends coming for the day and getting the trim up on the one lone window out front. The never ending house project. It rained this morning and looks like more is coming, so that window ... well, never mind.

Both boys say, "You've already asked me this!" Oh grr. Between memes and this blog and being labeled the Mamarazzi (fear Mr. Rebel!), they've grown weary of me. So I'll ask again. *sigh*

Oatmeal Head is thinking. I can see the smoke curling from his ears. Then the question, "What do you mean by random?" Ugh. Here's his response: You're spontaneous. You have red hair. You blog about cows. So much you didn't already know about the Good Flea. Y'all, I don't honestly think there's anything you don't already know about me.

Now for the tag. Heh. No one's getting off this time. I want random facts, people. I like tagging people new-to-me, so first is Trisha, who I believe found me via Coffee Bean. I love her voice. :)

Second, there's Kareer Woman, who has completely freaked me out with her post about the Brown Recluse which tried to kill her. Ew!

Third, I tag Jules, who really needs to sell her house. Please, someone, buy her house? Or kick her potential buyer in the kneecaps till he gets his act together?

Fourth, Nipper, an old friend of mine. Alright, she's much younger than I. You know what I mean. Tell her hi for me, will ya?

Fifth, there's Indy, who's not talking about it. She's just sayin' ... You know.

I read y'all. I hear your thoughts. I know who you are. To some extent. I'm really interested in hearing what the people close to you say about you. Unless they're buttheads, like my so-called loved ones (I'm not the least bit cranky today. Why do you ask?).

Until I write again ...

Flea

P.S. For those of you who've been tagged, you must say "Phtphtbt!" in the comment in which you inform your next victims.