An' why are you chopping them up?
This is Spook, just after Halloween in 05 I would guess, judging by both the location (just inside the front door of our last apartment) and that big glass bowl that used to hold the chockies nobody came by and tricked, er, begged for. So Isabel and I were condemned to eat them before they went stale. Oh cruel fate. She's wearing a flea collar, which we've found to be less effective than that goop you're supposed to put between her shoulderblades but which always ends up slicking down the hair along one side of the cat.
In other news, this morning I was reminded of that sequence in Sabrina, wherein Humphrey Bogart's dissolute and womanizing brother sits down on the two champagne flutes in his back pocket and thus spends the rest of the movie (or a good chunk of it) with a bandaged ass. So Bogey, the ant in this particular fable, gets his plastics factory to make his grasshopper bro a plastic hammock with a circle cut out of it for the guy's sore and bandaged jacksie. (I wondered, then, how the actor managed not to fall through.)
I am also reminded of an old National Lampoon comic in which a famous football star promotes, not an athlete's foot cure, but a brand X hemorrhoid cream. When he gets fed up with it, he chucks it across the locker room, ejaculating "Fast relief my a--foot!"
I have no possible explanation for why these two memories are now associated in my noggin.
Hope everyone's weekend is shaping up better than mine.