The other day I was sitting at my desk cutting up a credit card (one that expired in October. I prefer to use my debit card). I was snipping through the last little bit of plastic, and the tip of my pointer finger got in the way, and I snipped through the end of my finger.
AND IT HURT LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER.
Two days later, it still hurts. It’s not infected, it’s just deeper than your average cut, and it keeps gaping open. I cannot fathom putting super glue on it because it would sting like a motherfucker. The only thing that works is to put one bandaid over the end of my finger and another around the end.
What a fucking annoyance – and I still can’t believe I did such a boneheaded stupid-ass thing. I guess I should thank my lucky stars that my finger wasn’t at a different angle, I could have snipped the fucking thing right off my finger.
(Which would have been badass. I could have made up a story about being on the run from the LAW and getting the end of my finger shot right off my hand. But alas.)
I’ve been on a roll lately as far as coming up with nicknames for the cats. I probably haven’t mentioned this before (or maybe I have, don’t know), but we tend to add “butt” or “pants” to the end of the cats’ names when we’re talking to them. Reacher becomes “Reachie-pants” and “Reachie-butt.” (He’s also “Creechie-butt” too, which comes from his other nickname Reacher-Creature, also sometimes just plain Creature.)
Fred was talking to Corbie, and he called him “Corbie-butt” several times. I thought for a moment and said “Cor-butt.”
Fred laughed.
(Oddly, I often call Sugarbutt “Sugarpants” and announce “He’s wearing his Suggie-pants!” as Sugarbutt walks through the room. I do not know what the hell I mean by that.)
It’s not so much an issue lately, but after we first got Alice, she had some killer breath. Fred went on and on about it, and after a little while I called her “Alice-tosis,” which he appreciated.
A few weekends ago, we were in Walmart, and Fred tossed a box of the Walmart version of Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls into the cart. When we got home, I called them “Swiss Fake Rolls” (and then laughed and laughed at how funny I am).
Like I said, I’ve been on a roll.
(But not a Swiss Fake Roll.)
Wow. That was a lame and weak ending to that section. I’m going to put a little section here so that that section doesn’t infect following sections with its lame and weak suckitude.
Okay. Let’s take a deep breath and move on.
I don’t know what set them off, but the cats (I suspect Sugarbutt and Joe Bob, though it’s possible Maxi is involved, too, and really who the hell knows just which cats are involved? There are 58 of them up in this goddamn house.) have been on a pissapalooza. I don’t know if it’s because the Bradys are gone or because Alice is still here, or exactly WHAT the fuck the issue is. This happens from time to time (maybe twice a year, I’d guess) and it always pisses me off.
(See what I did there?)
Before it got light up yesterday morning, I ended up going around the front room and the computer room (the rooms they usually target) with a black light, a handful of cleaning rags, and the bottle of Anti Icky Poo, and cleaning up all the pee I could find.
Fucking cats.
On the up side, all the cat pee I could find was on the baseboards or floor and thus easily cleanable.
I was up at 3:30 yesterday morning because I’d put Alice in the foster room overnight, and girlfriend wanted OUT. At 3:30, I could no longer sleep through the howling and the banging on the door, so I got up and showered and started my day.
At 7:30, I left the house with Alice in a carrier, and took her to a vet clinic 25 minutes away. I left her there (and how pleased was I that the receptionist recognized the name “Alice Nelson” as Alice from The Brady Bunch? SO pleased!), and picked her up yesterday afternoon. She had a nasal endoscopy to see if she had a polyp above her soft palate, and as it turned out (because it can never be something simple, you know) she does not. So I’ll let y’all know what the next step is when I know. At least we were able to rule out a polyp!
Alice was REALLY happy to be home, and despite being a little groggy from the anesthesia, she was playing and rubbing up against Reacher, and eating as soon as Fred let her out of the carrier.
I really need to get a shot of Alice next to one of the big cats so you can see just how tiny she is.
Corbie is one beautiful boy, is he not?
Indeed he is. “Pay no attention to the Rhyme behind me.”
Spanky’s pretty spry for an old man. I mean, he’s not being particularly spry in this picture, I know. You’ll just have to take my word for it.
Previously
2010: Cheesecake pose.
2009: “I sense oncoming snacks!”
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: Fuck you, Lesley Stahl.
2005: Yes, I look like a dork.
2004: Better paranoid than hitchhiking across the country to meet some perv though, eh?
2003: No online presence in the day and age where every Joe Dork has a page? Inconceivable!
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Ooooh, lucky me, I got to go to the gynecologists’ today!
Last weekend I was showing my husband how dusty the food process blade was by running my finger across it. I missed all the small cut out blades, and then hit the big one. I have a hanging flap of skin on the tip of my first finger, dominant hand — liquid bandage, and then two band-aids stuck on top of that all week and it still hurts like a bugger. Imagine how long it took me to type this because I keep hitting three keys at a time and can’t type worth a damn with my fuck-you (middle) finger.
Ouch! I got some of those metal finger splints that basically surround the top of the finger to use for just such problems. My hands are numb from neuropathy and I cut them constantly! Due to bumping it and slamming my poor injured finger into everything it would never heal, so those are a nice barrier until the wound is healed or else it would keep busting open. No fun! I hope it heals quick for you.
I did the “snip” thing last winter, only I snipped right through one of those folds of skin you get at the knuckle when your finger is straight. Hurt like hell, bled all over, and hurt for a very long time. And felt stupid for a very long time – I still flinch when I’m cutting through something and reach the “snip” point. Good luck healing up!
How old is Spanky now? How about the age of the other cats? He sure is a gorgeous creature — but so are all your other cats. (And, of course, I’m one of those people who’s never seen an ugly cat; they’re all beautiful in their own unique way!)
I’ve done the same thing with those little cuticle scissors. I was cutting a tag off something and sliced into my finger. They hurt like a bear, don’t they? Same with paper cuts. (I’m such a baby..) 🙂
Gracie Poo…Gracie Bean…Gracie Beaner…
Moxie Poo…Foxy Moxie
Theo Popodopolous…Theo Popo
Riley Poo
Regan…the vegan
You get the drift ; )
I use a liquid bandage but if the cut is too deep for that, I pack it full of ….what the hell is the stuff in the green tin? It just flew out of my head. Oh, Bag Balm! I pack it full of Bag Balm before double bandaiding it as you describe. Helps keep the edges of the cut soft and promotes healing. Vaseline would probably work similarly.
This must be the month for annoying injuries. I recently kicked the base of the treadmill full force (accidentally) and broke my pinky toe. The doc said that if I had been a dog they would have just snipped it right off. :O
Hope your injury heals quickly!!!
My husband will have little names for the dogs and cat and like to add “head” to the end=like you are a scardy cat head. I don’t get it but it seems to make perfect sense to him. Different strokes I guess.
I hate those finger cuts that won’t heal. I am very nervous with knives because I am klutzy and have gotten myself many times. My other big kitchen talent is burning myself. My hands and arms have many ugly burn scars. Atleast it proves I do cook a lot even if under duress.
Your entries are truly a bright spot in my day Robyn 🙂 I was giggling over the whole ‘he’s got his sugarpants on’ comment you made. I do the same thing, only I say here comes benny furpants or Hankie crankypants etc.
Hahaha, Mum. I love how you find the positive in each situation. And I can definitely picture you running from the law with a gaping wound in your finger.
Also, I don’t know why “spry” means, but that’s a great picture of Skitty-boo.
This comment is cracking me up. I used the word spry last week and considered ditching it because I knew it made me sound old fartish. I thought “Maybe I’m not so old fartish” when you used it, Robyn, because you are about a decade younger. Oh well I have always had some old fart in me, I adored my grandparents and history even as a teenager. The upside of it seems to be I mind aging less than most of my friends. I just feel like it’s my turn to be this particlar age. All I want is the young body where things worked better and more comfortably.