Look at those eyes…. doesn’t little Miss Caramel look like an innocent addition to our family? Oh, it’s so cute! It has outfits! For $29.99 you can purchase a whole house for the cutie! Freakin’ genius I tell you. If you are the toy maker, that is.
Maybe I’m turning into a bit of a crank, but folks, last week when I was working on an editing job (Yes, I do that if any of you would feel the need for a quick line-edit!) little Miss Caramel found her way to my desk. Her weasely little voice permeated my soul! I wanted to squash little Miss Caramel, to fling her in the streets to meet her death! Caramel brought out the beast in me…
Maybe it’s just summer. There are three weeks left. Three weeks of fun and sun. It’s just when sun and fun and work clash that you I find myself feeling a tad angry over simple things like Miss Caramel. Seriously, I understand that she is a toy, that she didn’t ask to be activated, to be brought to life like the freakster Hamkenstein that she is…
Come on, it’s creepy isn’t it?
When I taught fourth grade I had a hamster. It was a biter. It escaped one night and I was secretly glad to see it go… then three weeks later all the plants in my classroom mysteriously were nibbled away. Then, we found the hamster lair in my closet. Not pretty…
Miss Caramel looks like a possessed rodent, which basically describes every hampster I ever met.
I like to give them as gifts, complete with one of those damn Habitrails and spinning wheels that only seem to operate at night, to families that seem just a little too perfect.
That will teach you for keeping your house spotless and asking me if I would like to come for tea. Bitch.
I mean, really. Who drinks tea, and assumes that I want to as well. Coffee. Wine. Maybe a Crantini. Hell, a shot of tequila. But tea?
That person, and her way to spotless house, need a hampster, and I am all too happy to help.
Maine Mom – so innocent, yet so evil
Oh my gosh! I’ll be sure to hand you over a Crantini and invite you to hang out in my basement!