Keet, showstealer that he is, comes bolting into the computer room, halts suddenly and pukes on the carpet while my wife and I are powerless to do anything but sit and watch.

Apparently he gets spooked by the huge amounts of cat food spewing forth from his body and, suprised, sprints away during the tail end of said pukage. Needless to say he left a trail.

My wife turns to me amid hysterical laughter and teary eyes: “We’ve just been drive by puked!”

Yep, its a real funhouse here tonight folks.

I liked Carl.

And that is all.

Rarely does one get the opportunity to run down multiple beanie babies on the road. I didn’t pass this one up, when out of the drear on the morning commute to work, there they were. Forty of them I would guess. Spread across the four lanes of the highway as if they’d just busted out of the local beanie baby factory and their poor sightless eyes had led them to this peak hour traffic in their hopes of escape. Most of the little brightly colored stuffed things were concentrated in the centre lanes, but still six or seven lay in my path.

Some of you might have swerved.

I aimed.