We're so fat that we can't reach our computer keyboard. We have to clamp a long bamboo pole in our teeth to hit the keys. Our weekly anonymous Tea Party hyperconservative weightwatcher thinks that's funny:

"You're wrong again," she says in a voice that wrenches joy right out of the air. "Gun control IS trampling all over our 2nd Amendment rights. Stick to restaurant reviews. You certainly look like you eat enough food."

We don't do restaurant reviews. We tried, but there isn't a restaurant we know of that has doors wide enough for us to get in.

Much more civil, even decorous, was a note from Michael Ward, U.S. Navy, 1970-72 Vietnam/Western Pacific, who orders us: "In the future, please refer to U.S. Navy ships and all other ships as `she,' not `it'."

Thank you for your service, but that's a negative, Cap'n. In this man's Navy, the AP Stylebook is our Bible. Until a ship rebuffs our romantic advances, it doesn't rate a "she." Besides, if all ships are "she's," where do baby ships come from?

One reader who had nothing but good things to say about our recent column about our three-night stay at Long Beach's Hotel Maya was the guy in charge of publicity for the Hotel Maya. "You really captured all of the unique elements and appeal of Hotel Maya and the surrounding area," he admitted, before offering to pick up the tab for the flat tire we got while on our little vacation. Happily for all of us, Allen Tires, who does our tire work, fixed it for free.


Advertisement

Sadly, and perhaps a wee bit unjustly, not everything we get is free. Following our vacation story, we got an email from tblackfore@aol.com, who wrote, without regard for facts, "What you failed to mention is that you were comped at the Maya."

OK, A.) We were not comped. We blew through a brisk $1,000 bill from our personal stack of $1,000 bills for the weekend (thanks, in no small part, to the price of premium margaritas). And B.) Who uses AOL anymore?

Regarding our vacation foray to Fingerprints with our daughter, our friend Dimwit called to say that "I'm really kind of puzzled and confused. You used the word `dimwitted' to call me a name once, when you probably don't even know the definition of the word. Then you write about buying a CD by John Prine and I'm just wondering how many of your readers in Long Beach know who he is besides you and me. One minute you're writing up and the next you're writing down."

As for our ongoing cat-and-mouse problem at the house, we were tragically premature in our triumphant Bushian "Mission Accomplished" pronouncement on Thursday about having finally mouse-proofed our house. Turns out they have a variety of ways to get into our living room, where they have taken a curiously enthusiastic interest in our piano.

One of our readers remarked about our Havahart traps (which have way too much hart for our liking, having only caught one mouse in 10 days of mouse-hunting). "You're trying to catch the mice and then let them go in your neighbors' yards," he said. "What you don't realize is that's what your neighbors are doing to you."

As for our other mouse-eradicator, Orangey the Cat, that's turning out to be nothing but a headache for us. We have Kat-Lover Kate telling us to trap Orangey and have him/her spayed/neutered and make him/her part of our family/commune, while reader Lisa, who has warned us about the mayhem cats cause, is mortified. "How's Mr. `We Decided to Get a Killing Machine Despite What Lisa Told You' doing?" she asks. "I hope Orangey just kills mice, because cats love to kill beautiful songbirds and they leave them on your porch like a pretty present. When you find your first beautiful, dead songbird on your porch, think of me and how I warned you."

We feel sick.


tim.grobaty@presstelegram.com, 562-714-2116 or twitter.com/grobaty