Schnooper pooper

I love the grasses in my garden. I also love my cat. What I do not love, however, is what happens when the two mix, which they frequently do.
Oh Schnoopette, why must thou daily ingest my grasses? Why, when thou knowest they induce thou to vomit? Why dost thou shun the specially-purchased “cat grass” in favour of my pennisetum? And why – oh God! – why dost thou choose the 100% wool, long-shag rug to bless with your digestive mishaps?

[HeavyPetal.ca]

Best comment evah…

# Kristen on April 10th, 2008 at 9:34 pm:

>She needs to get over it!

Bunny boilers never just get over stuff. They make things as awful as possible, then someone ends up drowned in a bathtub.

[Author DeborahAnne MacGillivray Harasses Amazon Reader]

Anyhoo, this author (in pathetic grammar) responded to a reader’s review on Amazon (and has subsequently removed it) telling her why she was mistaken in her opinion.

And moreover:

She has since deleted the review, but not before it came to light that MacGillivray uses yahoogroups and author groups to encourage, browbeat, or by other means, individuals into taking down negative reviews by reporting that the review is a) not helpful and b) abuse. MacGillivray also appears to have taken even further steps to ascertain personal information about Reba

2c. Re: vote down this bitch please
Posted by: DeborahAnne MacGillivray
writer@DeborahMacGIllivray.co.uk scotladywriter
Date: Tue Aug 21, 2007 10:17 pm ((PDT))
Well, thanks to XXXXXX our PI , we now have her name, her husbands
name, her chidrens names, her grannies and great grannies name. Her
address phone number and email
lolquite interesting.

Hilary Sares, MacGillivrays Kensington editor, purportedly is very aware of this situation and said only people with nothing better to do plays in this mess.

Bunny boilers indeed.
All of this is probably way more interesting than her books anyway.

Two paragraphs

that cement the fact that I heart Neil Gaiman…

“A five in the morning wake-up call and off to the airport to fly home. Finished the Yearbook article in the Northwest Lounge. Sent it off. I slept a bit on the plane. I’d heard that “crippling” snow was expected in Minneapolis, but it was actually rain and didn’t turn into snow until I had got home safely. And it was vital that I made it back in time because I had to get back home for…

The Sleepover. At which I was going to be The Adult. Starring Maddy and five of her thirteen/fourteen year old friends, at which I get to serve as chauffeur (to cinema and back) adviser (“you could probably put more cheese on those nachos”), placer-of-things-into-oven, and most importantly, because they had all just seen Prom Night and were a bit skittish, offerer of helpful advice (“You’ll all want to stick together this evening. It’s a big old house after all, and given the people who’ve died here over the years… well, I’ve said too much already…”). It’s going on as I type this.”
[Religiously interrupting your being since 2001]