Sausage Flies, Cottage Cheese and Jason Priestly

I'm sitting here enjoying my coffee and listening to Stevie Nicks sing "Gold Dust Woman," trying to ignore the bickering and complaining across the hall. Lord knows I'm not above letting my opinion be heard, but here at the Cubicle Asylum, no one is going to listen and nothing is going to change, so you may as well just hush, smile and pretend to give a rat's patootie.

Listening to Bubbles slobber down her cheesy egg sandwich (with extra mayo) was less painful this morning, because I fixed myself a slightly leaner egg creation, with cooking spray instead of diner grease, very little mayo and no cheese. You see, I had to do something. I just couldn't face my regular cottage cheese and fruit today.

Oh, I can hear you asking, "No cottage cheese??? But you LOVE cottage cheese for breakfast!! Something has gone terribly awry in the Universe!!!"

Settle down chil'ren, everything is going to be okie dokie. We have none other than Mr. Craig Ferguson to blame for this drastic change in my morning routine. No, really. Allow me to explain.

The morning began normal enough; shower, coffee, four-legged pee machines outside to do their business, then me curled up on the couch with DVR remote in hand. It wasn't long 'til he had me smiling from ear to ear in all his precious butt wiggling glory. Everything was going fine, he was cocky, I was happy, just the normal start to a normal day in Mahalaville.

Then it happened. The Sausage Fly story.

Now, I don't normally have what you'd consider a weak constitution, but in light of fairly recent "episodes," I've been slightly more queasy than normal. I won't go into the gory details about why the Sausage Fly story grossed me out, the only thing you really need to know is that it involved discussion of a culinary nature and the word sperm was involved. Use your imagination.

That alone was enough to put me off my cottage cheese, but I put it out of my mind, trying to erase the mental images Mr. Ferguson so firmly implanted in my feeble, early morning, not-yet-caffienated brain. I was nearly successful, but then came Jason Priestly as his first guest. The discussion quickly turned to the topic of his being a new father but somewhere along the way, it took a turn for the worse. I'm a little foggy early in the morning and I don't remember exactly what was said, something about a sperm war.. I'm not sure.. what matters is that it brought it all back, mere mention of the word brought all those wing ripping, substance slurping images that I'd worked so hard to remove from my minds eye.

I can't complain, I suppose. The Late Late Show isn't intended for early morning enjoyment. I have no one to blame but myself, but that is just way too much sperm discussion before 8 a.m.

It could be days before I can look at cottage cheese again.