wind silence to announce that Fred And3rson is a great big liar.
Well. Except that he isn’t.
I don’t know what it is about Lowe’s that makes me so gassy. I suspect it’s a defense mechanism much like that of skunks. Next time we go to Lowe’s, I’ll announce to Fred that I’m feeling gassy and we’ll see how fast we get out of there.
I should have tried that last night when we were in Lowe’s and he kept pointing out the god-awful ugliest curtains EVER to me. I wish I’d had my camera with me.
* * *
We watched
Jackass 2 the weekend I got back from Pigeon Forge, and let me announce that (1) I have no use for Jackass, because it’s an idiotic show/ movie, and I hate those guys and their stupid things they do, and watching their idiocy always manages to piss me off, and (2) I find Bam Margera oddly appealing. Not Johnny Knoxville (those crazy, twirling eyes betray a certain amount of mental and probably emotional damage) and not Wee Man (though he has a nice-guy face) and CERTAINLY not Steve-O (I would happily pay to appear in Jackass 3 if I could punch Steve-O in the face), but Bam Margera. I don’t know why. It’s a little disturbing, really.
I’m going to go jump off a cliff now.
* * *
Speaking of Pigeon Forge, I think I mentioned that we did a lot of shopping while we were there, and more than once I had to produce my driver’s license when I used my credit (debit) card. For the most part, the clerks would glance at the license, the name on my debit card to be sure they matched, and finish ringing up the sale.
Because god knows if I’d stolen the credit card I couldn’t have easily stolen the driver’s license too, right?
Anyway, a couple of times the clerk noticed that I looked vastly different now than I did on the card, and a couple of them asked how I’d lost the weight (or actually, one asked and the other just commented “Wow, you’ve lost a lot of weight”, to which the only possible response is “Yes I have.” Unless you’re my husband, who would surely have been compelled to tell the clerk how he’d lost the weight, how much he’d lost, and that he likes cheese. Just not on a salad.), but I noticed that neither of them even hesitated at accepting that the woman in the driver’s license picture was me. I guess I still resemble the “then” me enough to pass.
I should totally replace the picture on my license with a picture of Miz Poo, and when they looked questioningly at me, I could say it was taken on a bad hair day.
* * *
Someone explain to me, please, what exactly “misses” sizes entail. I’ve been shopping exclusively in the “women’s” section, but occasionally I’ll see something cute in the “misses” section, only I’m scared to go over there, because I think it might be meant for itty bitty size 0 girls who are too cool for skool and if I step foot in that section an alarm would go off (“Woop! Woop! Woop! Old lady alert! There’s nothing for you in this section, lady, move along!”) and security would come running and kick me out.
So, enlighten me, wouldya?
* * *
365 Self-Portrait Project #3.
In front of the computer, where I spend far too many hours. I call this one “Robyn and her wattle.” I’ve noticed recently that while I sit in front of my computer and stare with glazed eyes at whatever I’m reading, I always either chew the fingernails on my left hand, or pick at my face. Bad habits (the chewing and picking, that is. Well. The incessant surfing also). I’m not terribly motivated to stop either of them, though.
* * *
Cosette is still at the vet’s (I’m sure the vet hasn’t had a chance to see her yet), and hopefully they’ll be able to figure out what’s going on with her so I can pick her up later this morning, or this afternoon.
Last night Fred had had enough of Eponine’s scaredy-cat ways, and he chased her around the room until he caught her, and he picked her up and petted her until she calmed down, and then he put her down and petted her some more until she gave up the fight and threw herself onto her back for a belly rub. This morning, she ran a little less. I think, given enough time, we’ll turn her into a lovebug whether she likes it or not!
Eponine, up close.
I love this kitty and her tail-wagging ways.
Wild boy Javert. It’s hard to play with Eponine when Javert’s around, ’cause if you start waving a toy at her, he runs right over and grabs it. He cracks me up.
Cosette, before her trip to the vet.
Moondance and Moonman are doing well. I think moving them into the guest bedroom was a good move – they LOVE to sit on the table by the window and look out at the neighborhood, sleep in the sun, play, and greet us when we go in to spend time with them.
Last night we opened the door to their room so they could come out and explore. For the most part, Moonman was uinterested in exploring – he just wanted to hang out in his room. Moondance explored quite a bit, especially when Fred brought her downstairs, and of course Mister Boogers had to show his butt again. The good thing is that while Mister Boogers acts like a jerk, growls and hisses and goes into hysterics, he doesn’t attack the cat who’s freaking him out, so we don’t have to worry about the safety of our fosters. (Of course, I think Moondance could kick his butt, anyway, so I’m not too worried about her!)
He loves to hang out under the spud’s desk.
“What?”
“Dude. Seriously. You’re in my space.”
* * *
Previously
2006: Right now, Fred’s thanking his lucky stars that I don’t have this much Christmas stuff, because it would drive him NUTS.
2005: (YES, GODDAMNIT! I HAVE CONFIRMED THAT YOU CAN, IN FACT, BEGIN WRITING THE FUCKING CHECK BEFORE YOU ACTUALLY HEAR WHAT THE TOTAL IS, YOU IN-MY-WAY MOTHERFUCKER!)
2004: I need to go crack open a beer, watch the game, scratch my balls, and think about what this means.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: “Yeah, so you‘ll be the one with the big head blocking everyone else’s view.”
2000: No, I’m not on any drugs, why do you ask?]]>