My roommate is studying the history of the world. I wandered into the kitchen as she was taking notes and sat down and derailed her process. I did pick up little bits of what she was learning, though, and I came to a conclusion: I like the Ice Age better than the dinosaur eras, because mammals are furry. In my mind, every cave family had a pet wooly mammoth that resembled Mr. Suffleupagus, who the kids could snuggle up to on cold nights, which I guess would have been every night.
I looked up the spelling of "Snuffleupagus." Only one "P." And it is most certainly not "SnuffleuFFagus."
Oh, while I'm here I should clarify that a few posts back, in "The Courage to Ask a Better Question," I was talking about the love of God. I guess that might not have been clear, since I followed that post with that "Note to Hypothetical Future Boyfriend." Not that I'd mind having that, either.
OK, so back to this whole mammal thing. Some of you are probably saying that I wouldn't want to have a pet wooly mammoth because they were dangerous and smelly and they didn't really walk around saying things like, "Oh, Bird..." You're the same people who tell me I don't really want to live in a castle because they're cold and dank. Well, you're wrong. I totally want to live in a castle, because they're way cool. I'd rather live in a cold, dank castle, surrounded by stones and history, than in a modern apartment with boring white walls and brown carpeting and vinyl siding.
And if I have a pet mammoth who sleeps by the huge fireplace in the great hall, then that's my prerogative.
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1 comment:
I wonder if they shed?
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