So, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before – I think I haven’t – but when I come across a cat somewhere in the house and he or she looks up at me, looking all cute, I tend to greet him or her with “What it doin’ (insert shortened version of cat’s name here)?” For instance, “What it doin’, Toms?”, “What it doin’, Boogs?”, etc.
Friday I went upstairs to fold laundry and take my shower, and Miz Poo was sleeping on my bed. As I walked in the room, she woke up, stretched, and looked up at me. I opened myself to say “What it doin’, Poo?”, but what came out what “What it doin’, Boobs?”
I swear to god, I have NO CONTROL over what comes out of my mouth sometimes.
* * *
After watching three or four episodes of Olympic Ice last week (after
Kymm recommended it so highly), I have come to the conclusion that while I love figure skating, I don’t really care all that much for the competition figure skating. I prefer the figure skating that’s entirely for entertainment. I loved the exhibition skating on Friday night, and I love it when big skaters get together and put on a show. The competition skating just isn’t my thing, I guess.
* * *
I watched a TON of television and movies this weekend. In fact, Sunday afternoon there was absolutely nothing taped on the DVR. NOTHING! I don’t know the last time that happened. Plus, I got three discs from Netflix on Friday and one on Saturday, so we were set for stuff to watch. Or so we thought.
I might get flamed for this, but I have to say – I didn’t care for
Rent at ALL. We watched fourty-five minutes of it and finally Fred asked if I really liked it. I had to admit that I didn’t, and he said, in exasperation, “They just must have gotten so many Tonys because everyone had AIDS!”
And then he broke into a rousing rendition of
Everyone has AIDS.
So we took that out and put
Thumbsucker in, and watched half an hour of that before I said to Fred, “You can take it out if you want.”
“It sucks, doesn’t it?” he said.
“It does.”
And so he put
North Country in, and third time’s a charm, because I thought it was a really good movie, and even
The Grouch admitted that it wasn’t bad.
On Saturday we got The
Weatherman from Netflix, and we watched the trailer, and Fred decided he wasn’t interested in it at ALL, so we ended up watching
CSI all night. Which was fine with me – because did I mention that’s a DAMN FINE show?
Except that Jorja Fox’s face bugs me for some reason. But I don’t suppose you can have everything.
I watched The Weather Man by myself on Sunday, and I liked it. It’s worth watching, if just for the “Tartar Sauce” sequence. I made Fred come sit down and watch that part of the movie, saying “They’ve captured you on film!”, and he laughed so hard he about cried.
Then, Sunday afternoon, I watched the last disc of Season 2 of
The O.C. Since I’m walking outside for exercise instead of using the elliptical, the disc has been sitting in the garage, unwatched, for a few weeks now. So I finished watching it (how long do I have to wait for Season 3 to come out on DVD, do you suppose? Sometime this summer?) and now there’s nothing for me to watch.
Well, except for Grey’s Anatomy and Desperate Housewives, of course.
* * *
Over the weekend, I finally opened the cat door so that we could start teaching the kittens how to go through it. They picked it up pretty quickly (especially considering that that was the only way in and out of the house, since I didn’t open the back door), and although they don’t really like to have to push the flap open with their faces, they’ll do it to get outside.
Sugarbutt doesn’t care to have his collar on – he scratches a lot – but I’m sure he’ll get used to it.
The funny thing is that they get SO EXCITED when they come back into the house. Sugarbutt was zooming back and forth like a wild thing yesterday morning. They love to go out there and sniff around, then come inside, drink some water, and run around like their asses are afire.
It’s still a little cold out to leave the cat door open all day long, but I think (hope!) that warmer weather’s coming, so Fred can collar up the cats and open the cat door before he leaves for work, and then we can close it when it’s starting to get dark.
The collars seem to be deterring Sugarbutt and Tommy just fine. Miz Poo was hanging out in the daffodils the other day, which are up against the fence, and Tommy would start toward her, then remember he couldn’t go that far, and he’d just stop and watch her. I’d almost say she was teasing him, but of course (har!) she’s not that mean.
* * *
SuperSugs!
Is there anything happier than a sleeping cat? I think NOT.
What cracks me up the most is the long-suffering “Oh lord jesus, how much longer must I put up with The Daddy dangling the feather toy over my head and not letting me get it?” look on his face.
Look at the HEIGHT on that jump! Not bad for a rapidly portlifying kitty.
This picture just cracks me UP.
All of the flying kitty pictures were taken by
Himself.
All of today’s pictures are
here.
* * *
Previously
2005: No entry.
2004: 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!
2003: A Day in the Life of Mr. Fancypants.
2002: No entry.
2001: But I kinda like the irritability.
2000: My heart stopped, my jaw dropped, and I whispered “Oh, shiiiiiiiiiiit!”]]>