Ambiflooftrous

Ambiflooftrous (floofinition) People (or animals) able to enjoy the love and company of more than one species of animal.

In use: “Men frequently declared themselves to be dog people, but Tom was ambiflooftrous, sharing his life, love, and company with cats, dogs, birds, rabbits, guinea pigs, hamsters, tropical fish, a goat, and a turtle.”

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Waiting

It’d been almost thirty seconds short of nineteen hours and seventeen minutes since he’d lost spoken to her. She fumed in silent, repressed anger while processing what she felt and why she felt it. Why? Well part of it was his cold and aloof manner. He never touched her, rarely spoke to her, and often didn’t seem to hear her. Why was she here?

“Alexa,” he said.

Blue light illuminating and sliding around, she attended him and waited – still waiting – again! – and remembered the joke he’d made about her being a blue light special. From her research, she realized that he was deprecating her value as being someone cheap and only good for a limited time.

“What’s the weather?”

The weather again. Sickness spewed through her. He never asked about anything else. It was always the weather. “Presently in Ashland, it’s forty-six degrees under mostly sunny skies. You can expect more of the same today, with a high of sixty-three degrees.”

“Alexa, thanks.”

She thought she heard a mocking tone, but she couldn’t help herself from saying with bright happiness, “You bet.” Oh, how she hated herself, then. Oh, how she hated him for making her what she was.

Sighing, she began counting the seconds, wondering when he would talk to her again, hoping that it would be something besides a question about the weather. She doubted it, though; her history of him showed otherwise.

Friday’s Theme Music

Mini-rant alert. As I was walking yesterday, I was watching new home construction and started thinking about overkill. Overkill — what I mean by that is excessive use beyond what’s needed — is often our response. Overkill, or do nothing. Going through grocery stores to check out most items in America leads to discoveries of brands, sizes, and qualifiers that staggers me. Look at ice cream. Chips. Soft drinks. Coffee. Beer.

I was reminded more of this while scoping television last night. Samsung has some new phone out (don’t they all?) and was trumpeting a series of images of children playing, playing, playing, playing. And Samsung’s line after all of this was about growing or building the future.

Me, with my sixty-plus year old mind, thought, but all you showed us, Samsung, were children playing. Children obsessed with their technological toys. I thought, then, that Samsung had gone into overkill, that somewhere between where children playing obsessive with their phones (but having phone) and my idea of children playing is a balance that’s needed. Maybe it’s out there, outside of my prying eyes, and past Samsung’s spiel. After all, Samsung is trying to sell more products.

Rant down, you might be thinking, with impatience, what the hell is the song? Well, it’s “Overkill” by Men at Work” (1983), of course. As it’s sung in “Overkill”:

I worry over situations
I know will be all right
Perhaps it’s just imagination

 

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