What, like you never spent a weekend wrapping your pet in cellophane and then posting photos on the web?
I was just googling the names of my cats because it’s Saturday night and I’m awesome and came across their namesake on Facebook.
This vaguely reminds me of the time when I was working at my first job for a miniscule newspaper in rural Virginia, and the design editor and his wife brought their new baby into the newsroom to show her off. As my colleagues converged, I stayed cemented to my desk. If it isn’t a kitten, I can’t be bothered.
“Her name’s Abigail,” they cooed. Vicky, my then-girlfriend/co-worker, enthusiastically blurted out, “Awww! That’s my dead dog’s name!” And they were all, “Oh.”
I totally wouldn’t remember that kid’s name today if it weren’t for the dead dog.
Anyway, I’m kind of concerned because Isabel Teva is dressed in a white gown, looking forlorn and draped in what at first I thought was a very shiny veil but now believe to be copious amounts of cellophane, which probably means she’s sedated and locked in a kill room and about to be hacked to bits and dumped in the Miami bay by serial killer Dexter Morgan.
Which, in keeping with his code, I’m pretty sure means she’s snatched more than a tampon or two in her day. (See what I did there?)
Or maybe she just really likes cellophane.
That’s common among Isabels.
Now, like Abigail the Infant/Dead Dog, we’ll all forever remember Isabel Teva and her fondness for cellophane. Or her untimely demise at the hands of a psychopath. Possibly a little of both.
Regardless, I’ve run out of Saran Wrap, and that’s the real tragedy.
And how was *your* weekend?