Pop Culture Frenzy, Round 27

Welcome once again to Pop Culture Frenzy.   Superpowers are a popular topic lately. 

In order to maintain the pretense that we care about current prattle, today we'll each explain which superpower we would choose to possess if we had the chance.
Cyndi?

 

I want to be able to read

minds.  Then I could tell

when I'm up against

the narrow minded.

 

 

 

 

 

Hostmaster: oh boy.

Molly, what superpower would you want?
 

 

 

 

 

I would like the agility of a squirrel.

Not just any squirrel, though. 

A flying squirrel.

 

 

 

 

Hostmaster:  How about you, Bryan?
 

 

 

 

 

I want superpower to write aphorisms. 

 

 

 

 

Hostmaster:  so you want to be a writer?

 

 

 

 

 

No.  

I want to be a gnomist.

 

 

 

 

Hostmaster:  you're dreaming with the super heroes, pal.

Fluffy?


 

 

 

 

I don't need a superpower. 

God has that covered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You know, Fluffy.

 It's narrow minded people like you

 who ruin it for everybody.

 

 

 

 

Hostmaster:  oh boy.
Who do you think won this round?

Bryan?
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

God, of course.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You, da gnomist! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not so Alarming

The last few weeks have been a blur of hyper vigilance alternating with crazed inertia.  Truly, I'd forgotten the enormity of mental exhaustion that accompanies the presence of a young puppy in the home.  (It has been seven years since the last puppy!)

Henry is now about 14 weeks old.  He's getting the hang of things.  He knows his name.  He sits on command.  He has a good grasp on where the bathroom is, except now and then when he forgets.

Henry sleeps crated in the bedroom with us.  The other dogs sleep at large on various blankets that blanket the bedroom floor.  This arrangement makes it convenient to zip Henry outside during the night to relieve himself.  Yes.  Convenient.  Well, as convenient as can be expected as you stand in your nightgown on the lawn shining a flashlight beam on a squatting puppy, proclaiming in sleepy enthusiasm, "good boy!".


When the alarm goes off at 5:30am, lately, it feels earlier. 


Over the years, I've experimented with different sounds for the alarm clock.  Buzzers, bells, music.  Buzzers startle me.  Bells annoy me.  Music has the unfortunate tendency to stay in my head all day, a couple of bars repeating maddeningly.  I've finally found what works: the radio set on a talk station - but it must be in a language I don't understand.  This, curiously, is the most neutral way for me to wake.


How do you like to be awakened? 

Sven Swoons

Not much singing going on these days, following a huge spike in Canary music.  Why?  Spring hormones and whatnot.

The boys sang.  The girl tweeted (tweet, as in a bird's vocalization, not some electronic gadget's recording of someone's every fleeting notion).

Schubert

The hen decides which male she wants for a mate. 

Kimber

Kimber seemed to prefer Sven.  When Sven was placed in the cage with her.  He fainted.

Sven

In spite of this, Kimber layed an egg and sat on it for nearly two weeks.  She and Sven shared the cage with the egg.  A couple of times, briefly, Sven was seen spreading his wings in a manly display.  Kimber hissed at him.

The egg was found broken at the bottom of the cage.  Sven was relocated to his own cage.  He grew light headed upon arrival but did not faint.