thread over at TUS wherein you can vote for the perfection of your relationship from 0 to 100 by 10s, with 0 being “I don’t know why we’re together” and 100 being “We are perfect together.”
I rated my relationship 90, because to rate it 100 would be asking Fate to slap me down (“Oh, that perfect is it? Let’s add a little stress to the equation and see how well you deal! Let’s give YOU a brain tumor, shall we?”)
There’s another thread regarding what you fight about. I have to say, we don’t really fight. We argue from time to time, we disagree about a whole host of shit, but we don’t really fight, because we’re big babies and neither of us can stand to have the other mad at us for more than 5 minutes. Seriously, I can’t stand it. That whole “don’t go to bed mad” thing? I could never go to bed mad, or rather having Fred mad at me. I’d be way too stressed out.
Yeah, I’m a freak.
* * *
On
America’s Funniest Home Videos last week, there was a cat video. I dumped said cat video to a tape, and the tape to the camcorder, and THEN made a digital movie out of it. Because I’m a dork.
It’s not the funniest cat video I’ve seen – that one’s reserved for “Harmoni-Cat”, which I have thus far been unable to find online anywhere – but it’s pretty cute. Right click on save it to your hard drive before viewing, if you will. I’ll leave it up for a week before I take it down to save on space.
See it
here.
* * *
One afternoon a few months ago, the phone rang. Although I usually check the caller ID before I pick up a call, the only person who calls during the day is Fred, and so I answered without checking.
It was someone from the
CDC, wanting me to answer a survey about immunizations. I sighed and rolled my eyes, but figured I might as well answer the questions – after all, how many could there possibly be? Two? “Do you have a child? Does your child get immunizations?” Yes and yes.
So the guy starts with the questions – how many people under the age of 18 live in your house, how old is he/she, how many people total live in your house – and I answer them. Then he paused to again tell me the point of the survey and that it was completely anonymous. THEN he told me that it would take 20 to 30 minutes to complete the survey.
TWENTY TO THIRTY MINUTES?!?!
Dude, what the fuck? I don’t talk for 20 to 30 minutes on the phone to people I know and LIKE, let alone some strange man from the CDC!
So I hung up. Oh, shut up. I figure anyone who calls me in my home and wants me to answer questions for TWENTY TO THIRTY MINUTES
deserves to be hung up on.
Time passes, and earlier this week we received mail from the Department of Health and Human Services, addressed to Fred. Assuming it was something to do with that Hepatitis he had a few years ago, I didn’t bother to open it, and left it on his desk. When he got home, he opened it and found a letter saying “The CDC needs your help! Recently your family was asked to participate in the survey” blahblahblah “Your household is very important to the study because it has been scientifically selected and we cannot substitute another household for yours”.
The best part of this? There was a FIVE DOLLAR BILL clipped to the front of the letter. All we have to do, the letter says, is participate in the study when the interviewer calls. And if we do, they’ll send us another ten bucks!
Your tax dollars at work, folks. Doesn’t it give you a warm fuzzy feeling to know that your government is sending out five dollar bills to random people like us?
* * *
I took a bath this morning instead of a shower. While I was laying in the tub reading, Miz Poo climbed up on the side of the tub, surveyed the situation, and then climbed up on me and curled up on my chest.
It was kind of cool, actually. Until the Bean jumped up on the side of the tub to investigate, and Miz Poo dug her back claws into my chest to keep herself balanced, and smacked the hell out of the Bean with her front paws. Ouch.
* * *
Miz Poo wishes I’d stop all that friggin’ singing and just go the hell away.
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