Well, the talking dog fixed the Time Machine with his mixture of bubble gum and Elmer's glue. It should hold up for at least five minutes. A couple things happened in the meantime that makes Gertie kind of sad.

First, Gertie's  mommy went off and accepted a teaching post in Australia. Now that was rather abrupt; I mean you could have given us warning though I guess when she started to say G'day every time I saw her I should have gotten the clue. Anyway, bye, Mom, and I hope you find what you're looking for in Australia. Say Hi to Olivia Newton-John for me.

The other event was that my boyfriend was going to do an ambitious top twenty-five project on some music forum, but he was chased off by a couple meanies. Well, it makes sense; They know much more about music than anyone on the planet, really, just ask them. Just make sure it's about jazz or hip-hop though since that's the only music that really exists, really, just ask them. Oh, well, at least we know why that forum can't seem to keep many new members.

But Gertie is in control here and if you don't like her top twenty-five  albums (and honorable mentions) lists, well you can go straight to Antarctica and be eaten by penguins. So there!


So we'll kick off our top twenty-fives starting with 1955 real soon. We'll see what really happened in that year and subsequent years all the way to 2018 (or at least until I have to accept a teaching post in Australia- they really need teachers there for some reason).


So until next time, this is Gertie signing off.

    Well, what’s a girl to do? The talking dog gave me this time machine he said was guaranteed to work. Then again, he’s a talking dog. Oh, well; at least he wasn’t sending subliminal message like that dog that was talking to that son of Sam, or whatever his name was. Well, that’s what the talking dog told me. No, I’m not mad; he’s a trained poodle from the best shows at Westminster, honest, I swear by my Devil’s dictionary which hasn’t even been published yet (The talking dog picked it up in his travels).

      So here I am stuck in 1893 and I guess you’re wondering, how on Queen Victoria’s green earth can I get on this thing called the internet? Well, I’ll tell you; The talking dog hooked me up to this strange machine that can help me communicate on this special paper known as a word document and he posts it in his future world; or at least that’s what he tells me. I wonder if he’s pulling my leg? Well, he is peeing on it- Stop, talking dog! What do you think I am, a fire hydrant?

     So we’re busy trying to get this time machine to work. I’ll be back once we get it up and running. In the meantime- Talking Dog! Stop humping my leg, you beast!