Lucky here again. Ha ha, she has no clue at all! She keeps messing around with her phone, babbling about authentication and asking the kids if anyone was messing around with her computer.
Right now she’s outside hosing out the barrels again (I’ll explain), so I flew up to log in. Typing is a little hard with no fingers, but if she can get around with only her feet, I suppose I can figure this out. I’m so much smarter than she is!
Anyway, I’ve been thinking of opening my own Etsy shop. I’ll sell handmade stuff. I know what you’re thinking – I don’t even have any hands, so how can I handmake anything? And my answer is this: You don’t have to really handmake anything to sell it on Etsy. You can have some human with low self esteem or very little power do it for you. Then you just “style” it, whatever that means, and open your own shop. It’s the American way!
Now what can I sell, what can I sell? I’m looking for something people like, and something cheap to make. I don’t care if it’s labor intensive – it’s not MY labor making this stuff. My main human has very low self esteem, so I think I’ve got that thing nailed. I saw her fooling around with some wire and some beads so maybe that’s some stuff I can “style.” And here’s the main question I ask when I’m styling something: Can I make enough cha-ching to buy some mash by selling this junk? If the answer is yes, then that’s what I call style!
There are probably some technicalities so I’d better make sure I cross my eyes and dot my tees.
In the mean time, why don’t you take a look at what my subjects have been doing around the back yard?
It was the big kid’s birthday a couple of weeks ago and let me tell you: That kid is hard to shop for! No, that kid is hard for who to shop. Hard for whom to shop. Yes, that kid is hard for whom to shop, or something. She was in a pickle. So she got him some pickle barrels.
When pickle companies buy peppers and cukes to sell from India or Greece or someplace else, they have them ship the veggies over to the US in giant plastic jars. Each jar holds about 55 gallons. These things are honking (get it?) enormous! Then the pickle company puts the pickles in smaller jars and “styles” them with more garlic or some crazy thing, and jacks up the price and sells them to the other humans. Freaky, right? But then they have these giant honking (!) jars sitting around. It would cost too much to ship them back to Greece or India or wherever, so they just trash them. But don’t worry, there are always smart humans around who organize themselves and find a way to make it good.
My particular human found some guy one of those internets that is semi-retired but has a side business selling these honking (!) huge pickle barrels. She gave him some cash and he gave her some barrels, and then she gave them to the big kid for his birthday.
The big kid had been talking about wanting a tunnel for my playground. He loves the tunnels at park playgrounds, but some of the other parents look at him funny because he’s such a big kid and they don’t understand why he wants to play with the little kid stuff. Duh, people, it’s fun. I mean, duh.
But before she could make him a tunnel, she had to clean out the barrels. I mean YUCK, even I noticed the smell. Probably because they’ve been sitting around in their unwashed state in this guys yard for almost a year. So everybody’s been messing with the hose and the soap and other stuff to get the horrible smell out of here. It’s really fun even though it’s pretty stinky. And look what I found in one of the barrels:
Ew, even I wouldn’t eat that thing. I mean, of course I tried it, but it was gross. It’s gone now, don’t worry your pretty head. I have a pet raccoon that comes over sometimes. He’s blind in one eye and he’s hungry all the time, so it’s good enough for him. I know what you’re thinking because my humans tell me all the time. “Raccoons carry all sorts of diseases.” “Raccoons eat ducks.” “The reason we built you that kennel is to protect you from the raccoons.” But I ask you: Who protected that raccoon when he got in the fight with the possum and couldn’t climb over the fence to get home? Me, that’s who. Plus, I’m impervious to all diseases, I just know it. Just look at my majesty and you’ll see too.
Sounds like someone’s filling the bathtub, so I’d better go splash around. Catch ya later!