Month: August 2005

* * * Currently reading: What Was She Thinking?, by Zoe Heller. Finished last night: Shakespeare’s Landlord, by Charlaine Harris. Have I mentioned that I really love Charlaine Harris? Everything I’ve read by her in the past I’ve loved, and I really liked Shakespeare’s Landlord, the first in the Lily Bard series. Lucky for me, I’ve got the REST of the Lily Bard series sitting on my bookcase just waiting to be read.

* * * We watched Prison Break the other night – well, I guess I should say that we watched MOST of Prison Break. About fifteen minutes before the show ended, we lost power for just long enough to fuck everything up. Just as we (Fred) got everything up and running, we lost power again, and decided that we’d just give the hell up. Of course, there’s an encore presentation of the show tomorrow night, so we’ll tape that and watch the last fifteen minutes. So far, it seems to be a pretty good show, though I think that the brother – what’s his name? Something Scofield? – is a little too smug. Fred was disappointed to find that it’s a series rather than a mini-series, because at least with a mini-series, you know the guy might get out at the end, but with a series, they’ll just drag that fucker on for years and years. “Next week on Prison Break! The brothers make it into the sewer system – but, oh! Watch out! The guy from Fargo is keeping his eye on them, and their escape is fucked up yet again! For the tenth time!” Good show, though. Like I said, the brother’s a tad too smug and might need to be smacked down a little. * * * Speaking of good television – Starved? SUCH A GOOD SHOW. And yes, Kathy, I saw the episode with the colonics. Hee! Is it just me, or does Eric Schaeffer play an inordinant number of characters named Sam? * * * My period was four days late this month. Maybe there’s something going around, ’cause Yvonne and Rachelle were both late, and much like them, I declared that if I turned out to be pregnant – because if there’s anyone on this earth who could get pregnant while on the pill AND exclusively having (NANCE LOOK AWAY) sex (OKAY NANCE IT’S SAFE) with a man who’s been vasectomized, it would be ME – I’d be throwing myself off the nearest bridge. (As an aside, it’s funny how if you declare yourself pro-choice, it’s assumed by others that you’re pro-abortion for yourself whether you are or not, isn’t it?) Finally, Saturday night, it arrived with a vengeance (I’ll at least spare you THOSE details) and all is well. Oh, how I love being a woman. * * * Oh, I’ve seen this meme all over the place, and I cannot resist. iTunes eight-ball: put your iTunes on random, then ask it each question before going to the next song. What do you think of me, iTunes? Hold Her Down, Toad the Wet Sprocket Will I have a happy life? Suddenly, Olivia Newton-John What do my friends really think of me? When I Think About Cheatin’, Gretchen Wilson Do people secretly lust after me? Black Coffee in Bed, Squeeze How can I make myself happy? Cold Cruel World, The Warren Brothers What should I do with my life? More Than This, Nora Jones Why must life be so full of pain? Something Worth Leaving Behind, Leann Womack How can I maximize my pleasure during sex? I Could Not Ask for More, Edwin McCain Will I ever have (more) children? 04, Bob Guiney (that’d be track 4 from his album – strangely, it’s not listed by name.) Will I die happy? Down to the River to Pray, Alison Krauss (A drowning, I guess?) Can you give me some advice? There Goes My Life, Kenny Chesney What do you think happiness is? The Boys of Summer, The Ataris What’s my favorite fetish? Burn, Usher (You callin’ me a pyromaniac?) * * * See how badly I need a cut and color? My gray roots are at least two inches long! (I wasn’t sucking in my cheeks; I had a (watermelon!) Jolly Rancher in my mouth.) Luckily, I have a hair appointment on Thursday. Ordinarily I would have gone a couple of weeks ago, but the woman who cuts my hair is on maternity leave so I had to wait. When I find someone who cuts my hair the way I like it, I tend to stick with them forEVer. Years ago when I moved from Maine to Rhode Island, I would drive back to Maine every few months to visit my parents and to have my hair cut. My hair’s starting to get longer than it’s been in a while. I think I’m going to grow it out a bit more, just for the hell of it. This past week I started going to an every-other-day washing schedule (of my hair, that is; I take a shower every day. Sometimes twice a day!) because I read this entry of Coppertop‘s, and then I went and read the thread she linked, and a lightbulb went on over my head. In the past, when I’ve gone to an every-other-day hair-washing schedule, I’ve always not gotten my hair wet in the shower, and wet it down a little in front of the sink, and then spent the day bitching about how horrible it looked. It had never occurred to me that I could rinse it in the shower and then style it as usual. It’s been about a week since I started trying it out, and I have to say that it’s going pretty well. My hair’s noticeably softer and less dry than it’s been, so I think I’m going to keep on the every other day schedule and see how it goes. Oh, and while I was trying to snap pictures of my gray roots, I got a picture of myself wherein I look like nothing so much as a serial killer: “Iiiiiiiiii am comingggggggggg for YOU.” Okay. Perhaps I look less serial killer than stoned. * * * So, several of you invited me to download Google Talk, and because I’m nothing if not a pushover, I immediately went and did so. And I haven’t chatted a single word on it since, because I don’t really chat all that much. However, if you’d like to download Google Talk yourself and add me to your list o’ contacts, you can find my gmail address here. I should set up a regular weekly Bitchypoo chat, shouldn’t I? * * * Miz Poo was sleeping on the bed, and Rambo just climbed on with her. She looked at him, and then went back to sleep. I suspect she’s getting used to the kittens. They move around a lot in their sleep, these cats. He woke up, and yawned. I wanted him to yawn again, so I started making yawning noises at him (it works sometimes, believe it or not. Did you know that cats can “catch” your yawn?) He just sat there and gave me this look like “I will never yawn for you again, so save it, woman.”, then started falling asleep while sitting up. But then Miz Poo caught the yawn. And then he couldn’t help himself. Jodie’s a good yawner. She really looks like she’s laughing here. This one makes me giggle. A dirty look in the front, a yawn in the back. Snugglin’ kittens. All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither.]]>

* * * I’m sorry, is this coming out okay? Can you hear (read) me? I’m not sure that you can, because I can no longer see nor hear. I’m doing this by memory, with my fingers on the right keys and all, but I’m sure I’m typoing the hell out of it. Maybe I’m just typing in some random program, and iTunes is all “What? What the fuck? Who are you looking for? And you are?” :twitch: I recorded the CMT top 20 this past Sunday, as I always do, and I fast-forwarded through to watch the videos I wanted to see (the adorable Miranda Lambert singing Bring Me Down, for instance, and Sugarland singing Something More also, and is it just me or is the young blonde in that group a dead ringer for Kate Hudson?) and skipped the ones I didn’t, or had seen a billion times already. I was done watching the show, and about to erase it, when the host announced that the “sneak peek” of Jessica Simpson’s video for These Boots Are Made for Walkin’ was coming on, and I thought – :twitch: I thought, “Well, I haven’t seen that yet. I like Jessica Simpson okay. I should check this out!” Why didn’t anyone try to stop me? The horror. OH GOD, THE HORROR! :twitch: Jessica Simpson, if I want to see you doing the Tush Push for an entire song, I will go out and buy Nick & Jessica porn that your father will SURELY be flogging any day now. Until then, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, please put some fucking clothes on and stop simulating sex. Please? :twitch:

* * * For dinner last night, we had Honey Brined Turkey Breast, and Cabbage with Lime. The turkey was the BEST, juiciest, just flat-out yummiest damn chicken turkey I’ve ever had in my ENTIRE LIFE. The cabbage with lime was pretty good, though I think I used too much olive oil and not enough lime and salt. It didn’t quite have the zip I was looking for, so next time I’ll up the salt and lime juice both. Definitely a very good meal. It’s only about one in three times that I try a new recipe and have it come out as something I really like, so to have two new recipes come out really good on one night is… well, it’s unprecedented! I’d never brined before; now I know what everyone’s raving about! * * * Bonnie asked in my comments yesterday what was going on with Mister Boogers’ nose. What’s going on with Mister Boogers’ nose is that the kittens gave him an upper respiratory infection, only we didn’t realize for the longest time that he had an upper respiratory infection. He has allergies, especially in the summer, so we thought that the sneezing and abundance of boogers was due to allergies. We finally got worried enough that Fred took him to the vet, where he was diagnosed with an upper respiratory infection, given shots and fluids, and prescribed an antibiotic. Now, due to the upper respiratory infection and perhaps his allergies as well, he’s had some serious boogers. When he has boogers in his nose, they tend to make him whistle when he breathes, and so Fred will hold him while I pick the boogers out of his nose so he can breathe more easily. The things I do for love. So anyway, the day before Fred took Mister Boogers to the vet, he noticed a rather large booger and asked me to pick it out. I did, only not only did the booger come out but SKIN OFF MISTER BOOGERS’ NOSE came off as well. And his nose was bleeding. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much like an evil bitch. Until a few days ago, Mister Boogers had a nasty-looking scab on his nose, and it at some point joined up with some boogers in one nostril, and we talked about poking a hole in the scab so Mister Boogers could at least breathe out of that side of his nose, but we were both far too nervous to do such a thing, so we did not. The scab finally came off the other day and Mister Boogers is looking a lot better, but for a while there I could hardly look at him, because his poor raw nose made me feel like the most evil bitch in existence. * * * The sunset from our back yard Saturday night: One morning last week I was leaving the house, and looked up to see the sun looking pretty cool. I snapped a picture, but the picture didn’t really do it justice: * * * See Rambo’s little shaved belly, where his hernia was repaired? Didn’t slow him down any. He’ll hurt you if you try to take that milk jug ring away from him. It’s HIS. Don’t you FORGET IT. Fight! FIGHT! Jodie found the mink tail. Check out the speckled (shaved!) belly! Snugglin’ kittens. All of today’s uploaded pictures can be seen here.]]>

* * * So, my parents ended up staying until Wednesday. I think their train of thought was that they weren’t just going to fly down for a few days, that they’d stay a few extra days and visit. I have to say, they REALLY liked Rambo and Jodie, and Jodie especially took a liking to my father. I was a little surprised that they didn’t sneak them into their suitcases and take them home, though my mother did say more than once, “If we didn’t have Benji…” Monday night we left my father and Fred at home, and my mother, the spud, and I went to see Must Love Dogs. I was a little leery, because I’d read some bad reviews of the movie, but I needn’t have worried; I liked the movie just fine. Diane Lane sit on a chair and read her grocery list and make it sound interesting. John Cusack, however, has become suddenly completely unappealing to me. I don’t know why, I’ve always thought he was cute as hell and of course he’s LLOYD DOBLER, heartthrob to all, but suddenly I saw his face up there on the screen and I thought “Eh. Does nothin’ for me.” I sure do love that Elizabeth Perkins. So Monday night we went to the movies, and Tuesday after we went out for breakfast (we went out for breakfast every morning, I should point out. Because they like to eat breakfast out, and we have Cracker Barrel not 15 minutes from our house, and Shoney’s about half an hour away, and I LOVE eating breakfast out) my mother and I went to the mall and shopped for FIVE HOURS. Oh, my aching feet. I was ill prepared to spend five hours shopping; if I’d known they were going to come visit, I could have worked up to it, but you can’t really train for that sort of event in a single day. (Plus, I spent most of Friday cleaning the house. Ugh.) Tuesday night we watched the first two hours of Inside 9/11, and played with the kittens, who were putting on quite a show. I wished like hell that I had the camera out when I looked over and saw Rambo boxing with my mother’s foot. Wednesday morning we went so my father could return his rental car, then we went to Cracker Barrel for breakfast, where I pretty much talked their ears off for an hour, and then I dropped them off at the airport, told them to call me if their flight was delayed and I’d come back and get them, and came home. Their flight was supposed to leave at 10:15, and my father called right around then to tell me that the flight had been cancelled and they’d been rescheduled for the 11:45 flight. I offered to come get them, but he said not to, that they were just going to hang out and read. They’d had a two hour layover in Atlanta scheduled anyway, so they were just going to spend all that time in the Huntsville airport instead of the Atlanta one. They got home right on time, and life’s slowly been returning to normal around here. Not, of course, that there’s anything normal about life around here, but you know what I mean.

* * * Currently reading: Shakespeare’s Landlord, by Charlaine Harris. I do love me some Charlaine Harris, yes indeed. Finished since my last entry: A New Lu, by Laura Castoro, Beachcomber, by Karen Robards, Body Double, by Tess Gerritsen, and Shudder, by Brian Harper. None of them were bad, but Body Double was flat-out good. I highly recommend it. Speaking of Tess Gerritsen (author of Body Double), I read one of her books several years back and didn’t much care for it, so I didn’t bother to read anything else by her. And then at some point in the past few years, I read somewhere that Stephen King is a big fan of hers, calling her “better than Crichton” (since I’m not a Crichton fan, I’d consider that damning with faint praise), and I thought “Oh, pfft. He’s just saying that ’cause she lives in Maine!” But then I kept seeing her books everywhere, and it’s like the universe was saying “Give it a try! You’ll like it! Hey, Mikey!”, and so I got Body Double from the book club I belong to (The Literary Guild? I think?), and I read it over the weekend, and I’ve changed my mind in regards to Tess Gerritsen. She’s pretty damn awesome. * * * Last week’s pet store kitty pics are up hither. This week’s bunch is up here. * * * So, I took Rambo and Jodie to be spayed and neutered last Thursday. They did Rambo pretty early in the day, but I guess there was an emergency, and they couldn’t get Jodie done until some point in the evening, so they spent the night at the vet’s office. Oh yeah, and I don’t think I ever mentioned the little bulge Rambo had on his tummy, but that was a hernia, and the vet fixed it when he was neutering Rambo. So Rambo had his belly shaved, too, and he and Jodie are awfully funny looking, laying around with their little shaved bellies. They’ve been spayed and neutered, had their second vaccinations, and been treated with Advantage, but now that they’re ready to go, it appears that adoptions have slowed down drastically. There are tons of kittens at the pet store, and it doesn’t look like room’s going to open up too soon. Am I unhappy about that? Not at alllllllll. Why, if room didn’t open up at the pet store for several months, I’d be FINE with that, believe you me. I expect they’re going to be around for at least a few more weeks, if not longer. Jodie gives me the Look o’ Evil. ::Urrrrp!:: “Oh! ‘Scuse me!” “We are snuggling. Go away.” The Boog gives me a dirty look. Note the painful-looking scab on his nose. Poor Boogs. Jodie takes a moment from perusing that magazine with my mother to see what I’m doing. I don’t know whether it’s the flailing paws or the fangs, but this picture cracks me UP. Rambo sleeps. When he sleeps, he sleeps HARD. All the pictures I uploaded today are here. I also uploaded a bunch on Saturday, and you can see them here.]]>

Kill Reality since it came on. A show comprised of reality stars who sit around and act like giant pains in the ass? GIMME SOME OF THAT. So far I’m enjoying it, especially since Reichen can’t seem to keep his shirt on. That is one good-looking gay man, and I don’t give a shit if he’s gay or not; that diminishes my appreciation of his partial nekkidness not one iota. It squicks me out, on the other hand, that anyone on the face of this earth could be ATTRACTED to Jonny Fairplay. I’d let Cape Fear DeNiro rub his liver lips all over my face before I’d so much as be in the same room as the repulsive Jonny Fairplay. WHO HAS THE STUPIDEST NAME ON THE FACE OF THIS PLANET, BY THE WAY. Tanya (Tonya? Tonia? Ever how the fuck you spell it) is adorable, but my lord that girl has issues. Plus, she’s attracted to Jonny Fairplay, so clearly she’s completely insane. I know nothin’ about Trishelle (I stopped watching all the Real World/ Road Rules shows and all combinations thereof around… let me think. I watched them somewhat steadily through to.. Hawaii? Were they in Hawaii? With the girl who had the drinking problem and they had the intervention? I missed a few seasons up to then, but that was the very last one I watched, anyway.), but she’s got the skank lines rolling off her, doesn’t she? I found Tanya/ Tonya/ Tonia annoying until Trishelle showed up, and then all my annoyance was transferred to Trishelle. My favorite part of the show thus far is when all the women were matter-of-factly sitting around talking about their boob jobs. Oh, and if someone could smack Jenna Lewis really hard for me, I’d be ever so grateful. Where does the porn tape queen get off on feeling like she’s too good for Trishelle’s “scraps”, anyway? (Jenna Lewis porn: the most boring porn in existence.)

* * * Why has no one ever directed me toward the fabulous I, Asshole? Is it because y’all think I spend too goddamn much time sitting on my fat ass in front of the computer? Because that’s true, but that’s no excuse. I had to up and discover her on my own, and I hold you all responsible for the fact that I spent two hours reading part of her archives yesterday instead of napping with the kittens. I have such a hectic life that when I miss a two-hour kitten-induced nap, it makes a huge difference. Why, I’ll probably have to get 12 hours of sleep tonight instead of my usual 10, just to make up for it! * * * So, tell me this, y’all. Is it okay to eat kale raw, or will it have disastrous effects on my digestive system? I was thinking of adding some to my lunchtime salad to add some zing to it, but if I’ll be paying for it later in the day, I’ll give it a miss. * * * Last night Fred and I were laying in bed and I was singing that damn Big & Rich song that will NOT leave my head, and I came to the line about “gigging frogs”, and I had to stop and ask Fred just what exactly the hell gigging frogs might entail. I had an idea in the back of my mind somewhere that it involved nighttime and flashlights, but knew nothing beyond that. Well. Apparently gigging frogs is going out at night with a flashlight and a three-pronged spear, shining the light to locate frogs, and STABBING THEM WITH THE SPEAR so you can take them home and eat frog’s legs. That’s certainly romantic. I can understand why the girl in the song was so overcome with lust – between the frog-gigging, the introduction to the old bird dog, and the Willie Nelson songs, what girl wouldn’t be overcome? I ran across this site while I was searching for more information about gigging frogs (a search I gave up pretty quickly, ’cause I felt sorry for the damn frogs, minding their own business one minute and being stabbed by a spear the next), and check out this line-by-line translation of the slang in the song. It makes me laugh, because I imagine a guy in a suit and tie in front of a whiteboard, saying “Now, in the line where Misters Big and Rich mention Willie Nelson, the point therein is that Wilie Nelson is a famous country singer. Gigging frogs, bird dogs and Willie Nelson are all associated with country people – the singer uses these activities to impress this woman that he is really a cowboy.” I also particularly enjoy the translation of Radiohead’s Creep. Seriously, who thought that it needed to be translated? It seems pretty forward to me. I’d think that most everyone knows that “so fuckin’ special” translates to “very special”, but I suppose I could be wrong on that score. Speaking of frog legs, have I ever mentioned that two years ago when we went to Vicksburg, Mississsippi, I had frog legs a couple of times? (Actually, I see in the entry I wrote about the trip that I did, in fact, I mention it.) Which reminds me – Fred told me last night that he might have to go back to Vicksburg in the next month or two, and then he did the ha-ha-ha dance that goes “IIIIIIIII get to eat at the Huuuuuuuuungry Fishermaaaaaan, and youuuuuuuuuuuuu donnnnnnnnnn’t, ’cause you said you never wanted to set foot in Mississippi agaaaaaaain, ha-ha-ha!” I felt not one iota of jealousy, because Mississippi in August is hot as fuck, and I truly never want to go back there during the summer, if ever. Nothing personal, Mississippians. * * * We had a gorgeous sunset last night. * * * I weighed the kittens last night. Would you believe that Rambo gained THIRTEEN OUNCES over the past week? That puts both of them well over two pounds, which means they can be spayed and neutered. They’re still recovering from their upper respiratory infections, though, so I’m going to wait until they’ve recovered to call and make the appointment. We decided last night that, as piggy as he is, “Wilbur” would be a good name for Rambo. Fred also thinks that “Worm” would be a good name, too. Which I have to agree with, ’cause Rambo DOES look like a Worm. A good name for Jodie would be Nellie, ’cause she’s a nervous nellie. She’s not skittish, exactly, but any unexpected loud noises will send her running for cover under a chair or the couch. I’m uncertain how this happened. We left the room, and Mister Boogers was asleep in the bed, and Rambo was snoozing on the couch. We came back ten minutes later, and this is what we saw. Rambo really likes Dog Blog. No good can come of this. What a pretty girl. Jodie’s checking to see if anything’s going on at Catie‘s. I think she has a crush on Seamus. Chubby Girl Brigade makes Jodie giggle. See? She’s giggling. More giggles. Rambo steals a piece of popcorn. And yes, he ate the entire thing. No wonder he’s gained 13 ounces in the last week! It’s tiring work, all this napping. All of today’s uploaded pictures (the ones you see above, and more) can be seen here.]]>

But her evaluation of my cowboy reputation left me begging for salvation all night lonnng. So I took her out gigging frogs introduced her to my old bird dog and sang her every Willie Nelson song I could think of and we made love. Nope. Still in my brain. If I insert a brillo pad into my ear, will it eventually get to my brain and scrub that song out, or is that an urban myth? (Everybody says, everybody says, everybody says, save a horse, ride a cowboyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!)

* * * I was reading some of Fred’s old entries yesterday, and this one made me giggle like mad. Also, this one. This one, too (the song at the top). And for those of you who didn’t know about the book Fred published a few years ago, there’s this one. This one, too. I’m sure there would have been more, but I hit the entry for May 23, 2003, and there was no “next” arrow, so I went to bed. * * * Am I the only one who thinks that Angelina Jolie’s new daughter Zahara looks like she could be her biological child? To me, there’s a strong resemblance – the big eyes, the lips, even the shape of her eyebrows. See for yourself. * * * Did I mention that the spud had a job interview the other day? She filled out an application at a local grocery store, and got called for an interview in just a few days. The interview went pretty well, I guess, if a little fast (she was in and out in less than ten minutes). The job, if she gets it, will be as a bagger. The woman who interviewed her said that the job required 30 hours a week – which doesn’t work for the spud, since she’ll only be available to work on Friday evenings, Saturdays, and Sundays, along with school holidays – but then apparently said something that sounded like they’d consider a job share type of situation, so I don’t know. I asked her if she actually got offered the job, and the spud said no, that she’d have to take a drug test first. So the woman who interviewed her will call in a few days to set that up. We’ll see how that works out; keep your fingers crossed for her! * * * I’m absolutely drooling with jealousy over Nance’s new Jornada. I want one, damnit! I emailed Nance to tell her that I’m in negotiations with Fred to let me have one, but I think I’ll end up waiting and asking for one for Christmas. Typing that above paragraph – the “let me have one”, specifically – reminds me of when I was discussing with someone how badly I wanted a Miata. I said “But Fred would never let me have one”, and paused for a moment and was about to say “He thinks they’re not safe at all and he’d worry about me all the time” when the person I was talking to said “He wouldn’t let you have one?”, with the tone implying “Are you completely dick-whipped, or what? What’s this “let you” shit?” Because my mind always goes completely blank when I’m put on the spot, I mumbled something dumbass and changed the subject, but when I was talking to Fred later that same day, I said “Well, I wouldn’t let you have a Maserati (if you wanted one), either! It’s not a matter of you controlling the purse strings. It’s a matter of the fact that we’re married, and we talk about spending money on stuff like that, because if I went out and bought a Miata, you’d worry about me flipping it over and squishing my brains out my ears, and also Miatas are expensive and I’d rather drive a cheaper car so I can buy more books!” And he said “Why are you telling me this like I don’t know it?” But anyway, we talked about the Jornada and he suggested that I wait and ask for one for Christmas. Which is a good idea, because Nance is under strict orders to tell me if there’s anything about her Jornada she doesn’t like, plus waiting for a few months will ensure that I really want one, and am not simply being seduced by the cuteness of the Jornada. I’d much rather drag a Jornada through the airport next time I go to Maine than the fucking 30-pound (estimated; though to be truthful, by the end it seemed to weigh about 130 pounds) laptop, that’s for sure. * * * Currently reading: Mim Warner’s Lost Her Cool, by Lynn Messina. Finished last night: Horseplay. This book was absolutely hilarious; I highly recommend it; it made me laugh out loud many times. Judy Reene Singer is a funny as hell writer, and I’m hoping she’ll be putting another book out soon (though she has no web page; I hate it when a writer I “discover” has no web page!). The writing style is similar to Janet Evanovich’s, though even funnier. It’s very light-hearted writing, and it reads very quickly. Awesome book! * * * Rambo, who is the piggiest of pigs, likes to hang out in the kitchen while you’re in there, and if you open the refrigerator, he runs over to check it out, even though he can’t get up to where the food is. Obviously he’s figured out that food is kept in there, though. Yesterday I was making dinner, and I grabbed something out of the refrigerator and pushed the door so it would close, and there was a screamy-screechy sound, and Rambo hauled ass out of the kitchen to hide in the computer room, shaking his poor head. I guess I almost smushed his little head in the refrigerator. Poor baby; I picked him up and checked him over, and he seems to be fine. And he hasn’t been back near the refrigerator since. A quick learner, that one. Yesterday afternoon Rambo and Jodie were snuggled up on the cat bed on my desk, and she sat up and stretched, and then there was this ::fwoomp!::, and she was gone. Rambo sat up and looked a little startled, and it took a few seconds for me to understand what had happened – Jodie’d fallen backwards off the desk and ended up in the three-inch space between my desk and the wall. She got out of there pretty quickly on her own, and when she came around to the front of the desk, she was covered in cobwebs and dust bunnies. I dusted her off and put her back on the cat bed, and she and Rambo were sound asleep again in about ten seconds. Poor kittens. At least they seem none the worse for wear! The best way to get a yawning kitten pic is to hang out near where they’re sleeping and wait for them to wake up. Seems obvious, doesn’t it? I absolutely love this picture. Smacking the cord to the blinds so it swings back and forth. Some day I expect to walk into a room and see both the kittens piled up on Mister Boogers. Gooooooootta dance! All of today’s uploaded kitten pics are hither.]]>

books several months ago (I like how Amazon says the book usually ships within 2 to 5 weeks, when they know it’s out of print), shut down the checking account last month; I need to get my ass in gear and make sure Three Toes Publishing is officially shut down. As always, any help is very much appreciated.

* * * You know who really just completely repulses me? Robert DeNiro in Cape Fear. My god, when he sticks his thumb in (the incredibly annoying) Juliette Lewis’ mouth, I want to friggin’ throw up. And when he rubs his liver lips all over Jessica Lange, I gag. Can you tell we watched Cape Fear the other night? I don’t find Robert DeNiro even remotely appealing in any of his roles, but in Cape Fear he truly grosses me out. Also, the fucking hat and glasses he wears in that movie? GOT TO GO. Please. For the love of god, can’t Scorsese pay someone to remove the fucking hat and oversized glasses from the movie? The early 90s were an embarrassing time, fashion-wise, and I don’t think we need to be reminded that DeNiro sashayed around in a fucking beret or driving cap or whatever the fuck they call it, and huge, oversized mirrored glasses. * * * Have you ever noticed that the more of a hurry you’re in, the slower everyone around you seems to move? I was in Target this morning, eager to get my ass home and have a couple of scrambled eggs and a muffin for breakfast, and it was like word had gone out to everyone in the area that they needed to get in my way as much as possible. Every aisle I walked down, every thing I needed to reach for, there was someone standing RIGHT FUCKING THERE. And then, of course, I managed to choose the checkout line with the woman who had to have a ten-minute discussion with the cashier about whether she could ring certain things up separately, and what needed to be rung up separately, and blah blah BLAH. I wanted to scream “Lady, it ISN’T ROCKET SCIENCE, could we move the fuck ALONG, here?” Then, of course, once everything was rung up and paid for, the woman in front of me took her sweet time getting all her bags into her cart and the fuck out of my way and I wanted to bellow “GodDAMN, lady, can’t you MOVE YOUR ASS?” But I didn’t. I just sent secret hate rays to the center of her brain, which always makes me feel better. I even had some serious road rage on the way home. They’re widening the main road that goes from Madison to Huntsville, and they’ve been widening it for, I believe, sixteen years, and there’s NO FUCKING END IN SIGHT. But I’ve eaten my scrambled eggs and my blueberry oat bran muffin, and all is good in the state of Bitchymark. * * * We watched Wanted (starring the very hot Gary Cole, as opposed to the very not Gary Coleman) last night – the third episode, I believe – and we just can’t quite decide whether it’s worth continuing to watch. I like everyone in the show, and I like the premise of the show, but I often find myself easily distracted while I’m watching it, and that’s never a good thing. We might give it a few more episodes before deciding one way or the other. The other show we watched last night was Andy Richter Controls the Universe. One of the ten thousand channels we have -HDNET, I think it is – shows it on Monday nights, in high definition. We liked the show when it was running, and so we tape it every week and watch it. It’s definitely withheld the test of time, because we’re enjoying it this time around, too. It’s a great show – if you have a channel showing it, you should really at least give it a try. That James Patrick Stuart sure is a good-looking man. * * * So I think I mentioned one day last week that the kittens have been on amoxicillin for an upper respiratory infection. Their symptoms never got worse, but they never got better, either, so I went to the shelter yesterday to get doxycycline for them, which will hopefully clear it up. The kittens do NOT enjoy the doxycycline at all. Apparently it’s pretty nasty-tasting, and I do my best to squirt it as far back in their mouths as possible, but they still squirm and make the funniest faces of disgust. I need to get pictures of that. Mister Boogers, I think I’ve mentioned in the past, tends to have a somewhat boogery nose (thus his nickname!). So when he started sneezing a lot last week, we did our best to keep his nose clear and figured he’s get over it in a few days. Except he didn’t – in fact, by Monday he was clearly having some trouble breathing, and he ended up needing a vet visit. The vet gave him a shot of steroids, vitamin B-12, and antibiotics, and he’s doing a little better today than he was, though he’s still a little whistle-y. Also, we squirted some stuff up his nose to help with the stuffiness, and his nose just looks painfully raw. Of course, it might belp if he stopped licking his nose. So now our cat-medicine regimen looks like this: In the morning Rambo and Jodie each get a dose of doxycycline. Mister Boogers gets a half pill of something to help unstuff his nose, which he also gets in the early afternoon. In the evening, Rambo and Jodie each get their second dose of doxycycline and a dose of Albon. Mister Boogers gets a dose of antibiotic and the nose-unstuffing stuff. Miz Poo gets a squirt of essential oils, and Spot gets his happy pill. The only cat not currently getting some sort of medication stuffed down his throat is Spanky, and I’m not holding my breath – I’m sure he’ll be the next one to require a trip to the vet. That’s just the way it seems to go for us. Damn cats. Rambo with mouse. Jodie wakes up from one of her numerous naps. Snoozing kittens. Is that a happy face, or what? She’s such a pretty girl, that Jodie. Booger in the sun. All of today’s uploaded kitten pics can be seen here.]]>

I pass this billboard on my way to the pet store, and it always makes me laugh. Because there is nothing, there will never be anything, “gourmet” about Krystal. If you’ve never had the dubious pleasure of eating a Krystal burger, let me describe it thusly: it is the most chemical tasting thing, topped with reconstituted onions (or “recons”, as those in the biz call them), on a fluffy white bun, that exists in the fast food market today. I kid you not, when I say that you could replace the “burger” with a patty of shredded brillo and toilet cleaner, and no one would notice the difference. They are NAS-TAY, and trust me when I say that you’d be better off never bothering to try the nasty things. Ugh. The only way I can figure Krystal stays in business is that their food is so incredibly cheap that if you had $5 for your day’s worth of food, you could actually fill up on the chemical nastiness at Krystal, whereas the more expensive McDonald’s or Burger King would only get you a meal or two.

* * * We spent the weekend watching movies, some of them together and some not. Friday night we watched the far too long The Door in the Floor. I rented it because, for some ungodly reason, I thought it was a horror movie, but it turned out to be based on the John Irving novel A Widow for One Year. It just seemed to drag on forever, and finally about two-thirds of the way through, we started fast-forwarding it, and stopping it if anything interesting seemed to be happening. A total waste of time, that movie. Saturday, we watched What the Bleep Do We Know? I ended up snoozing through most of it, but Fred seemed to like it. It was an odd movie starring Marlee Matlin intercut with interviews with quantum phyicists and new age authors, and – as the editorial review on Amazon says, a vaguely convincing (and certainly mind-provoking) theory about… well, actually, it sounds a lot like the Power of Positive Thinking, when you get down to it. I was more awake for the end of the movie than for the beginning, and I think it might have been somewhat interesting if I’d stayed awake the entire time… but not interesting enough to try to watch it again on my own. Saturday afternoon, Fred watched The Pacifier with the spud, and said it was better than he’d expected. Especially the scenes with the duck, ’cause Fred loves him some ducks, for sure. Saturday night, we watched Coach Carter, which was pretty good – I could have done with a little less basketball, though. Heh. Yesterday, he and the spud spent the entire afternoon watching The Omen I, II, and III. Since I had no desire to see any of the three, I went upstairs and watched The Upside of Anger, which I’ve had in my possession for a week or so from Netflix. I didn’t know if I’d like it all that much – when it comes to Kevin Costner, I can go either way, depending on the movie – but I ended up liking it a LOT. It probably helped that I liked every single actor in the movie except Mike Binder, who I don’t really care for (ironic, since he wrote and directed it), and it ended up being very much worth watching. Last night, we watched Taxi Driver, which Fred had never seen. That ending sure drags on a bit, eh? We still have The Usual Suspects and Angels in America to watch, plus I have Mind the Gap from Netflix we might try watching, as well. I think we’re rapidly running out of choices, though. By Wednesday, Fred might be desperate enough to watch some episodes of The O.C. * * * Currently reading: Horseplay. I’m enjoying it, even though I’m not terribly interested in horses. That’s the sign of a good author, I suppose – to write a book centered about something that doesn’t really interest you, but still manages to keep you interested anyway. Finished Friday at the hospital: Nights of Rain and Stars. Good book; I do love Maeve Binchy, most of the time. * * * So, the kittens have been pretty much out of their room most of the day, lately. We let them out about mid-morning, put them up for an hour at lunchtime (otherwise, Rambo bugs the hell out of us, begging for food. Which is our own damn fault, I know), and then put them up at 9 when we go to bed. It’s working out pretty well; for the most part, our cats have adjusted fairly well, though they don’t go out of their way to snuggle with the kittens, or even play all that much, but at least the kittens have each other to play with. They’ve learned that sometimes Mister Boogers will play with them, but that they’re better off leaving Miz Poo, Spanky, and Spot alone. Jodie did rub up against Miz Poo yesterday, and got a smack on the head for her troubles. Jodie likes to disappear for long periods of time, just long enough to make us worry. I finally figured out where she’s been going – she climbs up into the recliner in the computer room to sleep. That way, no one will bother her, and she feels safe. Too cute, these two. Something disturbing happened on Thursday, though. Rambo likes to hang out on my desk and sleep on the cat bed there. I heard a loud noise Thursday afternoon and looked over to see him NURSING on the cat bed. It’s… quite honestly, it’s kind of gross, the loud smacking noises he makes. I did some looking around online, and found that it’s a tendency that siamese cats have, to nurse on wool. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it here, but it’s been my theory that Rambo’s got siamese in him, because to me he looks a little siamese. Also, he can be a talkative motherfucker, which is a siamese trait as well. Or so I’ve heard. Anyway, I found one page that said you should try to stop kittens from nursing on wool (there’s a theory, by the way, that the wool smells like the wet fur around a mother cat’s nipples) because if they ingest it, it could cause digestive problems. Another page said to let them do it, because it makes them happy and doesn’t hurt anything. Since I’d rather he not ingest wool, I moved the bed to our bedroom, and put a non-wool cat bed in it’s place, and things seem to be going okay. He found the wool cat bed and nursed on it briefly on Saturday, but there were places to go and people to see, so he didn’t do it for long. It honestly wouldn’t bother me except he is SO FUCKING LOUD when he does it. It’s awfully cute, though, how happy he gets, kneading and purring and smacking. Rambo nurses on the cat bed, while Jodie looks on in disgust. One minute they’re viciously attacked each other, the next they’re snuggling up to sleep. Crazy kittens. Sleepy Jodie. Put a towel on the floor, and it becomes the favorite sleeping place for the cats. When you’re recovering from surgery, what do you need? The medicinal healing effects of cats, of course. All of today’s uploaded kitten pics are here. ]]>

CMT yesterday morning while I was cleaning, and this very familiar-sounding song came on, and it struck me as very much NOT a country song, so I sat and watched the rest of it, to find that it was Best I Ever Had, by Gary Allan. I thought to myself “That is the least country-sounding song I’ve ever heard on this station. What the hell?” When I came downstairs, I went on to iTunes, and listened to a clip of the song, the version by Vertical Horizon (I guess they originally did it, since their album came out in 2001, and Gary Allan’s album with that song on it isn’t even out yet) and then I listened to Gary Allan’s version, and suddenly it sounded like it definitely had a country edge (twang?) to it. Funny how it sounded country in comparison to the other version, eh? On a side note, am I the only one who thinks Gary Allan looks like Stephen Dorff? Fred thinks he looks like Kiefer Sutherland, but I don’t see it. Actually, that’s a lie. Now that I’ve looked at a picture of Kiefer, I DO think he looks kind of like Gary Allan. Funny thing, comparisons.

* * * I know there are a lot of you cat luvahs out there, and Lisa’s got a question maybe someone can help with: I adopted a kitten this past Monday. Her “foster parents” told me that she was a skittish cat, but I didn’t mind. When I took her home, she escaped from my hands and darted into a hole underneath the cabinets that I hadn’t noticed was there (we just moved into this place). After freaking out about it, we learned that she comes out of the hole when we are sleeping or not home, eats some food, uses the catbox and then goes right back in there! Any tips on how to get her to stop freaking and come on out of there? Has anyone else had this sort of frustrating cat experience? I’ve tried calling her, talking nice to her, putting out stinky food, etc… no dice. Help! If you’ve got a suggestion, either leave it in the comments, or email it to me, and I’ll pass it along. * * * Okay, I wrote the above part of today’s entry before we left for the surgery center this morning. We left here around 8, made a couple of stops, got there right on time, and did a lot of sitting around and waiting. They whisked Fred back to have him undress, started his IV, and shaved his shoulder and betadined it up. They brought me back, and I was back there for perhaps three minutes before the anesthesiologist came along and asked him if he wanted a something-or-other block in his shoulder. He had just gotten an email from a nurse anesthesiologist overnight telling him that if they offered one he should take it, so he did. They had me wait outside while they did it, and no sooner had they finished doing it, when they were ready to take him back to surgery. I looked at the clock when I went into the waiting room, and it was just 10:15. His surgery was scheduled for 10:30, so it appeared they were running right on time. After a little more than an hour, his doctor came out to talk to me, told me that everything went well, and gave me a few instructions. Another hour later, a nurse from recovery came out to tell me that he was still a little groggy, that he was sipping Diet Coke and was feeling a little nauseated, and that she’d keep him back there for another fifteen minutes or so. When the fifteen minutes had passed, another nurse came out to get me, took me back to a room where she gave me a couple of sheets of instructions, a prescription for Lorcet, and told me to pull the car around and they’d bring him out. We were home by 1:30, and then I went back out to pick up his prescription and a bunch of movies. When I got home, the lady from next door brought over a flower delivery they’d dropped off with this morning, from his mother and stepfather. Right now, Fred’s upstairs trying to snooze while Mister Boogers comforts him. I’m sure he’ll have a more comprehensive account of the entire experience up one of these days – either he’ll have to dictate it to me, or spend three days typing with one finger – and I’ll be sure to link to it when it goes up. I expect he’ll be spending the weekend snoozing, watching movies, and asking me to run errands for him. * * * The “scratch” I mentioned in yesterday’s entry? Yeah, I got a look at it when the spud got home: That’s not a “scratch”. That’s a “dent”. Caused by someone who hit the mailbox… and then kept driving for a couple of feet. Urgh. * * * The thing about kittens is that they don’t quite have that whole cleaning thing quite right; as a result, we had to go after Rambo’s butt with a wet wipe a couple of times, because the STINK was killing me. Good thing he’s so damn cute. I’ve noticed that our cats – specifically, Mister Boogers and Miz Poo – are more interested in playing with Jodie than Rambo. Miz Poo was actually running up to, sniffing, and running away from, Jodie this morning, and at one point Mister Boogers was playing with her, too. I wonder if it’s because she just looks like a fluffy little cat toy? Looks like he’s got something smartass-y to say, doesn’t he? “Hi, hi! HI!” If you look closely, you can see the hummingbird at the feeder Rambo’s looking at. Jodie examining my desk. All of today’s kitten pics are here.]]>

reading: Nights of Rain and Stars, by Maeve Binchy. Finished last night: Don’t Eat This Book, by Morgan Spurlock. It was a good book, and I swear reading about how cows are fed ground-up pieces of dead cow, among other nasty things, made me gag and want to become a vegetarian. That, or at least start getting all our meat from the free-range farm where we used to get our chickens. And Fred will scoff at this, but I’ve put the Great American Detox Diet on my wish list. Written by Morgan Spurlock’s fiancee, it’s apparently got lots of recipes in it, and I can always use more recipes for vegetable-type stuff. We tend to eat the same vegetables over and over again, in the same way, and I’m looking for something new. Got a good veggie recipe? Leave it in the comments! (Nothing with peppers. I hate peppers.) Oh, and a good veggie recipe that we had over the weekend, is the one for Three Bean Salad. I made it because Fred found the recipe online. I wasn’t looking forward to it, because I hadn’t had it since I was a kid, but surprisingly enough, it was pretty damn good.

* * * I subscribe to too many damn magazines. I’ve been slowly coming to this conclusion over the last few months as I’ve been getting magazines in the mail and then letting them sit in the magazine rack by the couch for a month or longer before getting around to reading them. I finally decided last night to reduce the number of magazines I get by cancelling my subscriptions to the ones I don’t really care for anymore. So I’m canceling my subscriptions to Cosmo (god, that magazine annoys me), Shape (Self is better), and Oxygen (which I never subscribed to, but the magazine I was subscribing to (I can’t recall the name of it) went out of business, and I got the subscription to Oxygen as a consolation prize). There are others, but I can’t think of them at the moment. I already let my subscriptions to Readers Digest and Glamour lapse last year, and I think I’ll probably let my subscription to TV Guide fall by the wayside, too. If I want to know what’s coming on TV, I can check online. That leaves me with People, US, Marie Claire, Jane (which I might cancel as well; it annoys me sometimes, too), Self, Consumer Reports, and O. Oh, and Playboy (the Playboy Advisor fascinates me). Still too many magazines, but at least they’re ones that I like. Yes, I subscribe to both US and People. I almost always get People on Friday, then US arrives on Saturday. Usually by the time I get through People and read US, I feel like I’ve already read a lot of the same stories twice. I can’t help it, though, I love both of them. I finally cancelled Entertainment Weekly some time ago, because three entertainment-based magazines is too much, even for me. And then Stephen King began writing columns for EW. Which wasn’t enough to make me re-subscribe, but I was happy to find that you can read his columns – at least the last four or five – online. God, I love the internet. * * * Fred’s pretty antsy about his surgery tomorrow. (If you didn’t know he was having surgery, you can read the story here) He’s a little annoyed that I’m not worried about it as well, but I know he’s going to be just fine and the worst part is going to be the two weeks after, when he’s recovering and has to keep his arm in a sling. He keeps thinking of things I’ll have to do for him, like wipe his butt (as if he’d even let me. Not that I WANT to, but I could do it if I had to.) and cut his food for him. He’s not supposed to drive until he’s seen the doctor on Tuesday, so he’s going to work a couple of partial days from home. Or so he plans – I half expect him to spend all weekend and the first part of next week in a drugged daze on the couch, fending off the advances of the kitties who love him so. I will, of course, let y’all know how it goes. * * * The spud apparently hit the mailbox this morning and put a nice scratch in the side of my car. I haven’t seen it myself – she needed to get to school, and I wasn’t going to get up and get dressed to look at it, when I can see it and wail and gnash my teeth just as well when she gets home. She’s been halfheartedly looking for a job up until now. Now she really NEEDS one, because she needs to pay to have that scratch repaired, and her ten dollar a week allowance ain’t going to cut it. Anyone in the Madison area want to hire a teenager? As long as it doesn’t require backing your car out of the driveway, she’ll do a good job. * * * From my comments: i also giggled about “smoking chickens” because i am like 11. and my husband and i were looking at your photos last night and i told him that mister boogers real name is not mister boogers and when he asked me what his real name was, i couldn’t remember. how sad is that? it will probably come to me in a flash while i am brushing my teeth 2 weeks from now or something. His “legal” name is Stanley. It’s okay that you didn’t remember, because I always have to stop and think about it. Also, when Liz emails me and asks me how Stanley is doing, I always immediately think “Who the fuck is Stanley?” I recently had a chance to watch a few kittens for friends who were going on their honeymoon for a few weeks. Unfortunately, I couldn’t because I didn’t want them to be out socializing with my cats. I was worried about them possibly carrying Feline Leukemia or whatever it is that you call it. But I see that you let the kittens out with your cats. Is it okay as long as my cats have had their shots? I know it’s probably a dumb question, but I’d like to know just in case this situation ever comes up again (like if I can convince my husband to let us foster). That is an excellent question, and I think the answer is that as long as your cats are up-to-date on their shots, they shouldn’t be able to catch anything life-threatening from other cats. BUT I would hate to tell you that, and then be wrong, so I’d suggest you check with your vet. And anyone reading who knows otherwise, feel free to post in the comments! I know you’ve answered this question a bazillion times. What kind of digital camera do you have? Your pictures always come out so crystal clear. I did answer this in the comments, but I thought I’d post it here again, in case anyone else has the same question. It’s a Sony DSC-V1. Back at Christmas time, we were considering getting another camera, but after doing some looking around, decided we just didn’t like any as much as the one we already had… so we got a second one, so we can each have our own camera! My only real gripe with the camera is that hesitation while you’re waiting for the flash to be ready to go again, but that’s a pretty minor gripe. By the way, thank you to everyone who suggested different cell phones last week (or was it the week before?). We’ve pretty much decided we’re going to go with the Virgin Mobile prepaid phones, and see how that works for us. Speaking of cell phones, the spud came into our room the other night and held up a coin. “Here’s a dime,” she said. “For what?” Fred said. “Text messaging. Someone text messaged me and I TM’d them back.” Heh. Probably her return message was “I can’t TM. Stop TMing me. Stop, damn you! You’re costing me a nickel every time you message me!” * * * Rambo is turning out to be a bit of a pig. He was in the kitchen the other day when I was making dinner, and Fred made the mistake of giving him a small piece of chicken. Now, whenever he sees us anywhere near the kitchen, Rambo runs over and stands in the middle of the floor and howls his little head off. Yesterday, Fred offered Rambo a sniff of the knife he’d used to make a peanut butter sandwich, and Rambo LICKED the peanut butter. We let them stay out running around the house for about three and a half hours last night, and while Rambo pretty much stuck close to me, Jodie would go wandering off, and we’d say “Where the hell did she go?”, and a few minutes later she’d come moseying into the living room. I don’t know if she was exploring, or going upstairs to eat or use the litter box, or what, but she always came back to the living room, so I wasn’t too worried. I did only get one picture of her yesterday, though. Because she kept wandering off! I need to concentrate on getting more pictures of her; she’s so damn gorgeous. Pretty princess in the sun. Kitten avec peanut butter-y knife. Rambo checks his fan mail. Showing off his stripes. Miz Poo looks pissily at those kittens, who keep insisting upon invading her space. Rambo snuggles. If that ain’t a Mister Boogers look on his face, I don’t know what is. Forget those $5 toys. What all cats really PREFER is the milk jug ring. I love that Spanky’s sitting in the background, watching Rambo clean himself. The kittens are Spanky’s favorite form of entertainment. Just as long as they don’t get too close! He’s starvin’. STARVIN’. He’s a starvin’ Marvin.]]>