Showing posts with label bigger fish to fry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bigger fish to fry. Show all posts

Wednesday, 1 October 2014

flyin' fryin' fish

I was chattin' with a pal, yesterday, and somethin' came up.  It was kind of an important somethin' to some.  Kind of important 'cause it could affect a particular peep adversely but actually, it wasn't gonna affect me, at all.

Now I don't wanna come across as a heartless kitty who doesn't give a mouse's tail 'bout others 'cause really, that's just not me.  I do care!  I care 'bout my pals and I even care 'bout lots of cats and peeps I don't even know. I care when I see injustices bein' done and yes, when possible, I do what I can to stop 'em.  Or at least bring 'em to light.

But it's impossible for one kitty to save the whole world, you know?  Of course you know.

Sometimes, one has to make choices.  Sometimes a kitty has to decide which battles need to be fought and which ones can be let go.  Sometimes a kitty has to decide what is wanted the most and what can be given up.  Always, a kitty has to choose his or her battles, wisely.

So that's when I said to myself, and anyone else out there who was listenin', "I have bigger fish to fry."

Well THAT caught my attention.  Fish?  Fryin'?  Fish that are fryin'?  Fryin' the fish?  MOUSES!

Clearly, the battle of fryin' the fish is one a kitty does want to fight.  I do enjoy a little grilled tuna, now and then, you see.

And the thought of the fish that is fryin' bein' bigger..  Well...  That's gotta be good, right?  The bigger the fish, the more there is to fry!

Of course, at my house, most of our fryin' pans are currently bein' used for my work in teleportation physics.  Nothin' beats a fryin' pan when teleportin' usin' eggbeater-whisk time travellin'-teleportation technology.

But surely I could detach the eggbeaters from one of those fryin' pans so that Peep #1 could use it to fry me up some fish.

But then I got to thinkin'.  What about these flyin' fish of whom I've heard?  Flyin' is different from fryin'.  But only different by one letter.  Could be a typo.

Nah, some fish do fly.  There are flyin' fish.  I'm sure of that.

Anyone out there ever sit next to a trout on a plane?  How 'bout a haddock? And if so, did the fish sittin' next to you tell you if he or she was collectin' air miles? Can't help but wonder 'bout such things. After all, I'm a cat.  Cats are curious by nature, you see.

But back to the flyin' fish.  Although I suspect that some fish out there do fly on planes, I'm not sure they ever make it onto the passenger list.  I think they might be bein' shipped or somethin'.

But there are fish that fly without the aid of mechanical birds.  They just fly.  I don't know if they have wings or not.  Actually, I don't think they do.  Don't know how they fly without wings but somehow, they soar through the air and above the water, beneath 'em.

And what better way to catch a flyin' fish than with a flyin' fryin' pan?  In other words, a fryin' pan used for teleportation.  I decided to hold off on removin' the ol' eggbeaters from all the fryin' pans. Especially from the biggest of my teleportation fryin' pans 'cause if I was wantin' to fry a fish, I was gonna want to be fryin' a big one.  And for that, I was gonna require a big flyin' fryin' pan to catch it.

You know, I don't know why I never thought of this before.  Fryin' pans are used for fryin'.  Fryin' pans are used for flyin'.  You can fry a fish and some fish can fly.  All this flyin' and fryin'...  OF COURSE a flyin' fryin' pan is in order.  A flyin' fryin' pan can obviously do double duty.

And usin' a flyin' fryin' pan means that you can fry up your flyin' fish en route.  You can be fryin' your flyin' fish while flyin'.  In other words, you're flyin' fish that are fryin'.

Seriously, I need to get the patent on this.  MOUSES!

Now I know what you're all thinkin'.  You're all thinkin' that these flyin' fryin' pans bein' used in the fryin' of the flyin' fish is nothin' more that a whale of a tale.

Well you'd be wrong on that account.  First of all, whales aren't fish.  They're mammals.  They're mammals as are you and I.  Secondly, I don't eat whales.  Whales are for watchin'; not for eatin'. Some of them are even endangered!

Whales do however have tails.  But that's the wrong kind of tale.  Another possible typo?  Nah, just the English language doin' its thing.

So next time you see a whale leapin' into the air from the ocean below, remember that it is NOT a flyin' fish lookin' to be caught by a kitty flyin' a flyin' fryin' pan with an eggbeater attached to its side. It's just a whale.  A whale with a tail but certainly not telling 'em.  Tellin' tales, I mean.

And next time you see a flyin' fish, duck.  Don't quack or anythin'.  Just duck your head 'cause in that case, there very well might be a kitty flyin' a flyin' fryin' pan comin' along, tryin' to catch that flyin' fish for his dinner.

And if you should ever happen to find yourself sittin' next to a fish on an aeroplane...  If you should ever happen to find yourself sittin' next to Mr. Trout or Mrs. Haddock...  Well...  Maybe - just maybe - you're overworked 'cause you've been tryin' to save the whole wide world all by yourself.  No one kitty can save it all.


Seriously, folks.  Don't try to save the whole world all on your own.  Pick a few things you wanna see changed and concentrate on them.  Leave the rest of the savin' for somebody else.

If we all do a little, we can, together, accomplish a lot.  But if we try to do everythin', stickin' our paws in all of the pots, all over the place, we end up makin' a big ol' mess of the works.

Either that, or we drive ourselves crazy. And that's when we find ourselves sittin' on a plane, chattin' to a shark next to us.  A shark who, by the way, is sportin' a fin through the back of his three-piece suit and smells somewhat fishy.  MOUSES!

Wednesday, 27 August 2014

and in other news...

I threw up.  Yeah, I did. MOUSES!

I don't do a lot of horkin' blog posts.  In fact, this might be my very first one.  Thing is, I don't do a lot of horkin' so if I were relyin' upon horkin' incidents to induce the writing of blog posts, I wouldn't be writin' many posts on my blog.

Now if my Aunties Primrose or Blossom were the authors of Nerissa's Life, it would be an entirely different story. Those two have been horkin' on a regular basis for seventeen years.  MOUSES!

But my aunties are not the authors of this here blog.  I, Nerissa the Cat, am the sole author of Nerissa's Life.  I write all my own stuff.

Dare I say it?   Yeah, why not?  MOUSES!

I suppose the big news wasn't really that I threw up, though.  The big news was where and when I did it.  Let me explain...

The other night, I insisted upon sleepin' in my office.  I don't do that a lot but the other night, I was determined.   I begged and I begged and I begged and finally, Peep #1 relented.  I was in.  But why should I have to beg to sleep in my office?  It is my office.  Surely I have a right to sleep in it. Again I must say, MOUSES!

Actually, sleepin' in my office is not recommended on account of there bein' no litter box in there.   What's more, once the door is closed, access to the kitchen is lost which means, no snacks.  I do enjoy a midnight snack but figured I could forgo late-night snackin' on this one occasion.

Anywho...  sometime durin' the night, my tummy felt a little queasy and decided to act up like an actin' troupe doin' improvisational juggling gymnastics and you guessed it...  I threw up.

By mornin', I was feelin' fine.  I managed to enjoy my regular breakfast and perform my ritual mornin' garden inspection all before headin' back into my office to check my mail, visit with pals on Twitter and Facebook and finally, do a little work on my blog.

That was when Peep #1 called out to me sayin', "Nissy, I need to check my e-mail before you start blogging."   She sat down at my desk, swung her legs around the chair and emitted a loud cry. "Ewww!" could be heard throughout the land.  Did you hear it? Yeah, I'm bettin' you did.  MOUSES!

I looked at the peep.  The peep looked at me.  "Yeah, I threw up last night, Peepers.  Did I forget to mention that?" I asked, scratchin' behind my ear.  "Why did you go and put your rear paw in it?  You should learn to be more careful," I explained.

I shall not repeat the dialogue which ensued for fear of my blog bein' beeped out of existence by the foul language police.  MOUSES!

And in other news...  I'm past 3700 likes on my Facebook page now.  Ever so excited 'bout that. I'm really hopin' to make it to 5000 by Christmas.  I wonder if I could ask for likes when I write to Santa.  Hmmm...  I wonder if he can arrange that.  Probably.  Santa can arrange most things when he puts his mind to it.

And I have over 4000 pals on Twitter.  That's pretty excitin'.  Perhaps I should ask Santa to help me with that, as well.  Help me reach 5000.  I'll have to think about that.

Of course, I'm still hopin' for a Senate appointment.  Feel free to mention that fact to Prime Minister Stephen Harper if you're ever talkin' or tweetin' with him.  I'm sure he'd appreciate the reminder. #Niss4Senate for sure!

Oh, and nosey-neighbour-cat's sister is headin' off to law school, today.  That's a good thing, I think. If I ever get that Senate appointment, I might find myself in need of a lawyer.  It seems that a lot of 'em, do.

And speakin' of politics, I hear that some peeps at Toronto City Hall are gettin' into the discussion 'bout changin' the wordin' of our National Anthem.  Some peeps don't like the fact that it uses the word, "sons," thereby excludin' all the daughters.  What about the cats?

I asked Peep #1 what she thought about this.  As one of those daughters, I figured she'd have an opinion about it but I was wrong.  Peep #1 said, "Frankly, my dear Nissy, I don't give a mouse." Scratch that.  Actually, she just said she couldn't care less as she had bigger fish to fry.

I said in reply, "Fish?  Really?  You're fryin' fish?  Pass a plate on over to me, would ya?"  I never did get any of that fish.  MOUSES!

And the peep planted more plumeria seed.  Guess she did that instead of fryin' the fish.

But will the woman never learn?  Rockies are wreakin' havoc on the plumies she has and she goes and plants more seed.  Honestly, I've gotta wonder 'bout my peep.

On the other paw, I'm hard at work developin' a new feature for my blog. That's right, I have somethin' new in the works.  Unfortunately, there's somethin' else in those works, pluggin' them up.

You see, I'm havin' a tough time figurin' out how to make the technical stuff for this feature work.  I sure could do with some better IT support, you know? Peep #1 is pretty much useless and, I'm afraid, she's all I've got.  MOUSES!

Well that's all the news for today.  I think I've pretty much covered everything.  Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go see if the peep ever caught any of those bigger fish and if so, I'm gonna get her to fry some of 'em up.  I think she can probably handle that.