Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Mr. Clint Goes to McDonalds

My little sister, Stupidcleese, always get roped into helping me with the stupidest parts of my life, like wrapping presents or figuring out how iPods work. Lately she has been charged with the task of transporting my beloved fish, Clint, across Philadelphia about a gazillion times. This makes sense for two reasons: one, she loves animals, and two, she has a car.

I've been moving a lot in the past 6 months, which means Clint has been moving a lot in the past 6 months. Moving is supposed to be very stressful for fish, which means that it's also very stressful for me. I make Stupidcleese drive like 15 MPH, frustrating all Philadelphia drivers. I have a little Clint container he rides in when it's time to go somewhere new. It's very fancy - it came in a 20 piece set at Ikea for about a dollar. Maybe five dollars. You know, it's Ikea. You just put things in your basket and then all of a sudden you're spending $150 on tupperwear, meatballs, and a ridiculous lamp that will break or melt in five weeks. I love Ikea.

On the last move, my sister was once again assigned Clint duty. Clint (and I) had been staying in a house with a very good friend and a couple of cats. The cats looooooved Clint and wanted to play with him. Or eat him. Never could quite tell. This stressed Clint out a little bit, so I was worried about getting him to the new house in one piece. Clint's over a year old, which is a lot for fish. I don't want him to die, and I especially didn't want him to die en route to the new house.

But! Stupidcleese and I were hungry. And when you are moving there are only two acceptable foods: pizza and McDonalds. We decided to stop at McDonalds and since it was November I was not about to leave Clint in the car. So we brought Clint with us.

He was not amused. We weren't sure if it was the flourescent lighting or the music or the deathly threat of Filet O' Fish, but he was freaking out. Gold Gourami are known to be jumpers but he wasn't just jumping, he was throwing himself against the walls of his container. It was awful. We tried to placate him...

He wasn't hungry. So I give you this, my friends, a public service announcement:

Pet fish do not like to go to McDonalds.


  1. Sooo...did Clint survive the move? (PS- I love that you call your sister, Stupidcleese. I feel the love from here....)

  2. She calls me Fatboy. Clint is doing well in his new home! He's all sorts of swimmy and jumpy!

  3. Hehehe... My sister and I call each other Cheesebrain. We're not creative. Yay for Clint enjoying his new home!!!

  4. We took one of our pet fish to a neighbor's house while we were on vacation. The fish (Slater, as in A.C.) jumped out of the container and landed about five feet away. Who knew fish didn't like to travel? On the bright side, Slater lived about five years, so Clint might have plenty of good times ahead (just not at McDonalds).