Apologies, my dearest otterlings, for my long absence. It's been a busy few months AND I recently celebrated my birthday (despite several 'hilarious' comments by friends, no I have not just become legally able to drink, I have merely become legally able to verbally kick your elderly asses. Oh wait, don't I do that already? Let's soldier on)
More exciting news - I've got a story coming out over at Linguistic Erosions on 19th July, which I will pimp unashamedly as per usual when I get the link. Now on to the catch up, which I'm sure you're simply dying to read.
My Sloth girlfriend came in from work the other night, and started a conversation as follows:
Sloth: Did you see the Metro today?
Me: I did not.
Sloth: There was an article, about hygiene statistics-
Me: Don't tell me.
Sloth: But I-
Me: Please don't. I'm bad enough already without sciencefacts backing it up. I barely touch door handles at work as it is. People are filthy, snotty creatures and should be basically sealed in a decontamination chamber for several torturous minutes before being allowed inside the building.
Sloth: Fine, fine. Just thought I'd share.
I had largely managed to forget about this conversation, when a couple of days later I was brushing my teeth, examining my whiskers, and doing all those private bathroom things with the door slightly ajar for entertainment's sake. My Sloth was pottering about in the kitchen, within talking distance.
Sloth: Remember I was trying to tell you the other day about that hygiene article?
Me: I have erased the memory as much as I am able to do so.
Sloth. Riiiight. Well I read something else, where apparently "scientists" have stated that you should wash your hands thoroughly-
Me: Who doesn't already do that? Gross!
Sloth: For a specific period of time. Like, the amount it takes you to sing Happy Birthday-
Me: That's not so bad.
Sloth: I know, right? Ain't nobody got time for that.
Me: (starting to giggle) You know, this could be fun.
Me: I could start doing this in public bathrooms. Imagine sitting in a stall, quietly minding your own business, and then all of a sudden, you hear a tap begin to drip in the sink, and a little voice piping up... (singing in the creepiest way possible while rubbing paws together in manner of axe-murderer about to make a kill) Happy Birthday to me... Happy Birthday to me...
Sloth: (slow realisation dawning that she has created a monster) Wait. No. I didn't-
Me: YES! And it's my birthday in mere days! What better opportunity to test it! Happy Birthday dear Otter... Happy... Birthday... to.... me...
Sloth: Could you not?
Me: No. I must. For Science.
Sloth: (squinting suspiciously) You do an awful lot of things in the name of science.
Me: I'm a firm believer in progress. Thank you for this gift of knowledge.
Sloth: (sighing and pinching nose) You're... welcome.