Month: October 2012

Help send Lanna Lee to Kansas!

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When Fred runs errands in town, he uses my car. His car is better on gas than mine, but my car is bigger and will hold more bags of pig and chicken feed and stuff like that. When he uses my car, he leaves the seat all the way back (RUDE) and leaves the radio on the station he likes to listen to (also RUDE). Lately, he’s been listening to a radio station that plays old country songs.

He explained to me that he likes that station because “Back then, songs told a story and these days, songs really don’t.”

(Tell me more about the olden days, Methuselah!)

So I’ve been subjected to old country songs lately, because unless there’s a blithering idiot of a morning team on my radio, I don’t tend to notice what station it’s on unless there’s a particularly annoying song playing, whereupon I change the station. The old country songs station doesn’t have an annoying, unfunny morning team, just a DJ who mostly keeps his yap shut and plays music.

I was running errands last week, and half paying attention to the song on the radio, and then my brain kicked in, and I thought “Wait, what? What’s this song saying?”

My brain seemed to be under the impression that the plot of the song could be summarized like such: I got a letter from an old girlfriend who’s still hung up on me. She was all “Blah de blah” and asked me lots of questions, and then she said, all casual-like “Call me sometime, and oh by the way, are you still drinking these days? JUST CURIOUS!” So I called her up and managed to stumble over my words, but eventually told her that no, I wasn’t drinking any more. Then we hung up the phone and I was all “Grrr! I’m such a LIAR! How am I gonna tell her the truth? She DESERVES to know the truth for some reason!” I pondered and thought and pondered some more, and then I was all EUREKA! So I sent her wine-colored roses so she’d know I’m still on the sauce! So I did! And I guess she did! But this story has no follow-through, so it shall be left to the listener! I assume she was all “Roses, he loves me! But they’re WINE-COLORED! He’s still throwin’ ’em back! Le sob!” The end.

The more I thought about it, the more I was like “That is an utterly ridiculous – seriously? She gets wine-colored roses and is supposed to extrapolate from that that he’s still drinking? I think you heard that incorrectly, dummy, because you were only half-listening since the other half your brain was thinking about KITTENS. You got it wrong, I’m sure.”

Then I forgot about it for a few days, and one night at bedtime, Fred and I were talking about something, and I remembered and told him the plot as I remembered it. He laughed, and then after he went to bed, I searched for the lyrics (I remembered the “Wine-colored roses” part of the song), and voila.

I was right.

Is it just me, or is George Jones being juuuuuust a little too subtle with the message-sending-through-rose-delivery? Because I feel that the old girlfriend could very likely be utterly THRILLED to find herself the recipient of roses, and the color (which some of we ignorant types might just refer to as “reddish-purple”) might go right over her head. She might be all “Roses! He DOES still love me back!” and then start planning their wedding. So he’s all “Hmm. She knows I’m drinking, and she’s A-OK with it!”, and she’s all “He’s not drinking any more (he told me so!), AND he sends me roses to show me that he loves me!”

Maybe once she discovers that he likes to send messages via rose color, she’ll learn to respond in kind. What color rose indicates “I’m leaving you for a richer (nondrinking) man”? Green?

No, wait. I think green indicates “You gave me herpes.”

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By the by, if you’re ever looking for a country song that is EXCELLENT for singing along to, one that’s SUPER twangy and country, you can’t do better than D-I-V-O-R-C-E. I discovered that I know every damn word to that song, and sang it at the top of my lungs in the shower the other morning. Gotta love Tammy.

DEE-AH-VEE-OH-ARRR-SEE-EEEEEEEEEEEE BECAME FAHNAL TODAYYYYYYYYY! ME AN’ LIT-TUHL JAY-OH-EEEEE WEEL BEEE GO-IN’ A-WAYYYYY!

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PS: This is just a little Peyton Place and you’re all Harper Valley hypocrites.

PPS: Someone needs to remake that one and tell the Harper Valley PTA to go fuck themselves.

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Previously
2011: I swear to god it’s about time to turn on the closed captioning when I watch TV.
2010: Oh skimmers, why can’t I quit you?
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: No, my number one concern is that a woman, somewhere in Alabama, might have purchased a device to ensure that she’s able to get off.
2006: The stinkin’ kitten is not so cute!
2005: Annnnnnnnd that’s just a little glimpse into the dorkiness that is my life.
2004: ARRRGH.
2003: No entry.
2002: Wow. Apparently I’ve been doing the pet store thing for three years now.
2001: Day Zero.
2000: I’m back!

The weather here lately has been absolutely freakin’ gorgeous (at least, it was until this past weekend, and right now it’s raining – but that’s okay, because we needed some rain!). After the long hot summer we had, it’s more than welcome. I could use daytime temps lower than the 80s but I know that’s coming. But when the temps get up into the low 80s, something happens that encourages all the house flies in the area to come on inside and hang out with us. The kittens will chase the flies, and sometimes catch them. Other times they chase the flies and tromp across my keyboard, hitting some key that makes everything go wonky, and then I have to have a hissy fit.

So, same old same old around here, in other words.

Fred started making a case to keep Magoo (AKA Tony Rocky Horror) a few weeks ago. As I opened my mouth to respond with the usual “We do NOT NEED ANY MORE FUCKING PERMANENT RESIDENT CATS” argument, I saw that someone – one of the permanent residents – had sprayed the foot board of my bed, and though I might have been convinced to keep Magoo’s crazy little potentially-loony self before I saw the spray, afterward that kitten had no chance in Hell of staying here for good. It ain’t happening, no matter what a cute little character he is. I love the hell out of our fosters, but have no desire to keep any more cats. Our permanents are in good shape – Spanky’s even put on about half a pound in the past few months – so for the time being we’ll be remaining at 13 permanent residents thankyouverymuch.

The garden’s pretty much done for the year. We’ve still got a few tomato plants chugging along, giving us a handful or two of Sungolds every week, and the okra plants are still hanging in there, but other than those and the catnip in one raised bed and the garlic chives in another, we’re done for the year. Well, I do have garlic coming, so we’ll be planting those in the big garden, but despite my big plans to plant cabbage and carrots this year, I am finding myself seriously unmotivated to do anything in the garden at this point, and so I’m guessing it’s not going to happen. We’ve got enough green beans, greens, carrots, corn, okra, and squash to get us through to next Summer. Maybe next year my get-up-and-go will have returned (maybe not).

I always get SUPER excited about the garden in the Winter, retain a little of the excitement through ’til early June, and then around the sixth or seventh time Fred walks through the door with a huge bucket of squash, I pretty much wish the garden would go fuck itself. This year we planted too much squash and not enough tomatoes. Next year I’ll be bitching about having too many tomatoes. That’s just how it goes.

Things are going fine; I made and canned a couple of batches of jalapeno jelly last week, and I’m about to start making habanero hot sauce and jams in the next week or so. We didn’t end up with a huge number of hababeros (probably because we didn’t plant many pepper plants this year), so the jams and hot sauces will be limited. When they’re made and available, I’ll announce them here, as well as at Love & Hisses.

(I’m still posting at Love & Hisses five days a week, for the record.)

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Have you checked out Dinosaurs Can’t Eat Pizza lately? We’ve made Old-Fashioned Apple Dumplings, Crockpot Beans and Hot Dogs, Sugar Cream Pie, and Sauteed Green Beans and Cherry Tomatoes. Check ’em out!

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Previously
2011: The Catpranos
2010: Much like the cobbler’s children who go without shoes, we significant others of those who deal with computers have to beg and plead and limp along on crappy computers before the computer geniuses in our lives fix whatever is ailing our stupid computer.
2009: Life is good.
2008: How about that, genius?
2007: Except that seeing me so enraged the praying mantis that it took flight and flew at my head.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I could have done a faster job with a measuring spoon and my ass.
2003: She was stymied by her big butt, which wouldn’t fit under the shed.
2002: Here’s my question: It’s open 24-hours, so why the FUCKITY FUCK FUCK can’t they stock in the wee hours of the morning when NO ONE IS THERE?
2001: It’s funny how two people can look at the same thing and see it differently, isn’t it?
2000: No entry.