In case you missed it over the weekend, on Saturday there were cute kitty pics and an answer to a question, and on Sunday I announced that SALLY PEPPERS HAS BEEN ADOPTED (WOOT!) and there were more cute kitty pics along with the kittens’ weights and a picture of each of their little monkey faces.
And over at Dinosaurs Can’t Eat Pizza, Nance and I made Oatmeal Cream Pies this week, and the post will be up later today.
Stupid things I have recently done:
1. I was in Publix last Wednesday (I have to stop going to Publix on Wednesday – it’s the day the new sales flyer comes out as well as Senior Discount Day, so it is PACKED from the minute the doors open) and I had forgotten to ask Fred if there was anything he needed. So I got out my cell phone and dialed his number (I have not yet educated myself on how to use the “contacts” list or the speed dial function for making calls because I rarely make calls on my cell). The phone rang a few times and I was about to hang up because if he doesn’t answer his phone after two rings, that means he’s not at his desk and thus won’t be answering. But before I could hang up, the phone was picked up.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” I said. “I’m at Publix. Do you need anything?”
There was a long, long silence. I was on the verge of impatience when he said “Well, I don’t think so. My wife was going to head to the store later on, I’m sure she can pick something up if I need it.”
I was all “?” for a long few seconds before I realized what was going on, that I had dialed the wrong number, and that the guy sounded just enough like Fred that I hadn’t noticed it wasn’t him.
I mumbled an apology and then hung up.
Now just wait: one day the phone’s going to ring and it’s going to be that guy, asking if I could pick up some milk for them while I’m out.
2. Last week, I bought a chocolate-covered marshmallow at the store – actually, it was probably the same trip mentioned above. I like the chocolate-covered marshmallows available this time of year, and usually have a few while they’re around. When I got home, I put it in my desk drawer with plans to have it at some point during the day. After dinner, when I opened my desk drawer, it was gone. GONE!
Oh, I fumed. Because there are two people in this house, and the cats lack the strength to open that desk drawer and THAT BASTARD HAD STOLEN AND EATEN MY CHOCOLATE COVERED MARSHMALLOW. MINE. I stomped around, I hmphed and sighed. Oh, I was a joy to be around as I fumed silently.
An hour later I opened a different desk drawer (I’m sure you see where this is going) and there it was.
I was an idiot for even suspecting him, because guess what Fred Anderson hates, loathes and despises? That’s right, marshmallows.
(He has no taste.)
3. I was opening the refrigerator to grab my bottle of Diet Coke off the door to pour my morning cup (shut up and drink your coffee, motherfuckers), and as I reached to grab the bottle, my eyes fell upon a bottle of Clavamox which was sitting on the top shelf (Corbie’s got a UTI). In my mind, I thought for some reason of how hard you have to shake the bottle before you can measure it out so that you can be sure it’s well-mixed, and as I thought that thought, I SHOOK THE FRIGGIN BOTTLE OF DIET COKE AS HARD AS I COULD as if I were shaking the bottle of Clavamox. I ask you: what the fuck?
(That bottle of soda went back in the fridge for a couple of days to recover from being shaken so.)
4. It came to my attention, more than two months after my birthday, that I am 44, not 43. This came to my attention when I was looking at the year (which, I’m sorry, 2012 does NOT seem like it could possibly be the current year. Just about every time I write it down, I have to question myself “No, really, it’s 2012? That’s some futuristic shit, right there.”) and I thought “Huh. It seems odd that in an even year, I’m the odd age of 43. Usually when it’s an even year, I’m an even age. Did something weird happen with the years?”
No, seriously. I thought maybe we had a leap year and I forgot about it.
Then I thought and thought and thought some more (okay, really I only thought about it for like 10 seconds, but that seems like a long time, no?) and apparently the simple math part of my brain is still intact, because I was able to subtract 1968 from 2012 (seriously? It’s 2012?) and I felt an honest moment of surprise to discover that I am, in fact, 44.
I know, I know, what a fascinating never-before-done topic, “OMG, am old!”. But seriously – 44! How the hell did that happen?
Emmy and the squirming mass o’ babies. Look at Razzie’s little stumpy tail and skinny, stripey legs there in the front. SO CUTE.
“I like to get as close to Mama’s face as possible. It’s more comfy up here.”
“Dude, I know, right?”
When one needs to get higher and can’t quite pull oneself up, stepping on ones sibling’s face is always acceptable.
Do you see Logie there on top, crawling across her siblings? Apparently Her Majesty’s toes are too precious to touch fabric.
“Ah, yes, this bed made of my brother and sisters will do nicely.”
“HEY! I went to sleep on a pile of kittens and woke up on this stupid pink thing! I WOULD LIKE TO LODGE A COMPLAINT, PLEASE CALL THE MANAGER.”
More than a year after Fred put up the walkway and the corner platform in the kitchen, Stinkerbelle has finally ventured forth to check it out (until now, she’s always stuck to the other side of the kitchen, getting up there by jumping from the floor to the top of the fridge and then to the top of the cupboards, and reversing the process to get down to the floor). She’s been spending a LOT of time hanging out on the walkway and on the corner platform.
Pretty girl.
Previously
2011: No entry.
2010: LOOK how hard they work every single day, protecting those chickens!
2009: And then I realize that baby wasps grow up to be adult wasps, and I electrocute the shit out of those fuckers.
2008: “You realize,” I said to Fred as I watched Tommy diligently lick the top of Miss Stank’s head, “Even if we wanted to, we could never get a divorce.”
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I’m a total freak.
2003: She’s home!
2002: Of course, my sympathy for him will only last until he poos in the hallway instead of the litter box again.
2001: I am the dumbest dumbass in the whole wide world, I really am.
2000: Sometimes, they lay on the floor and perform for us.
I was buying a bottle of diet Coke and thought to myself, “if this was green tea, I’d have to shake the hell out of it”, and then proceeded to shake the diet Coke because I have The Oldtimers.
I have a 6 and a half month old kitten who MUST get as close to my face as possible when snuggling. Last night he was lying on my chest, and I was half asleep when he up and wedged himself under my chin with all of his weight directly over my trachea. Yay. I had to turn over because he would not be dislodged.
That Logie is a darling…and looks HUGE. I don’t think I’d ever seen a cat with her coloring, other than the photo link you posted a few days ago. I’m curious to see what she’ll look like as she grows.
And when my two cats are in the house at night, snuggling with me while I watch TV, Bitty Kitty will wrap herself around my neck. She has to get as close as possible to my face. Woe to me if I move quickly; her claws come out and she scratches. I have a scratch on my neck right now to attest to her displeasure if I move! Ha!
Still VERY happy for Sally Peppers.
I was getting ready to politely laugh at your math, because I was born in 1968 and am 43. I was trying to think of how to do it without coming off as a COMPLETE asshole/bitch (a little bit is okay), when I realized that you’ve already had a birthday this year, whereas I won’t turn 44 until December 29th. I am envious of my friends who were born on January 1. (I have two friends and one ex-husband with that birthday.) I’m like you mentioned in an earlier post, remembering when I was a kid how I not only knew how old I was in years, but also in months and frequently DAYS, whereas now I have to stop and go, “Okay, 3 goes into 11, carry the 9, divide by pi, solve for x” every time someone asks my age.
***
I once dialed my friend Brian’s number (I may have told this story before; if so, sorry) and someone else answered the phone. I assumed it was his sister’s boyfriend, so I asked politely, “May I speak to Brian?” There was a pause and the boy said, “Um… okay, hold on.” Brian picked up the phone and said, “Hello?” I said, “Hey, what’s up?” He said, “Who is this?” I said, “It’s Elayne, dummy!” He said, “Elayne who?”
At this point I realized, “That’s actually not Brian’s voice; close, but not quite,” but I was so embarrassed that I didn’t know how to just say, “Sorry, wrong number,” so instead I tried to convince this stranger that we had met in the mall and he had given me this phone number to call him, and I just can’t BELIEVE he doesn’t remember, it hasn’t been THAT long, I was wearing a red shirt and he was wearing a blue polo, REMEMBER?
That poor guy. He was too polite to tell me I was out of my fucking gourd, so we wound up having like a half-hour conversation, ending with me giving him my number (16 year olds: SO DUMB, right?) and telling him if he ever “got his memory back” to call me.
About two months later, he called me because the mystery kept bugging at him. I finally fessed up that it had been a wrong number and I’d been too embarrassed/confused to admit it at the time. He said that what had puzzled him the most was that it was his friend’s phone number I’d called. He couldn’t figure out why he’d have given some strange girl a number that wasn’t his own. ALSO his name was Ryan, not Brian. So I dialed a wrong number where someone with a very similar name and voice just happened to be visiting and wound up making a world-class asshole out of myself. When I told the real Brian what had happened, he laughed until he cried.
I swear, I look at some of the things I do sometimes and wonder if I have Jello in my head instead of brains.
my birthday is dec 27 1965 and I’ve spent whole years thinking I was older than I was because 2012 – 1965 = 47 but I’m really 46. I got to be 34 all over again since I’d spent the year thinking I was 35.
Mum, you are officially old.
The birthdays with the zeros are tough. Then a year or two later I would say to myself,” I’m in my EARLY forties this isn’t so bad.” Not so bad until you hit the mid decade and on and on. Now I just say to myself, “Think of the people who never got this far and just shut up and be grateful.” I’m practicing because the next decade-sixty-is quite intimidating to me. It’s not like I think sixty is so old it’s just weird to think of myself that age. Weren’t we all just twenty-something not that long ago?
Danielle, age is a state of mind. Besides if SHE’S old, what does that make me. Never mind forget I asked that!!!!
Maybe Emmy isn’t as big as I think and that’s why I think the kittens were/are huge.
Robyn, I don’t know if you’ve seen this or not, but it appears that there is a cat out there with a large amount of Het.
http://www.sundrymourning.com/2012/03/12/creeper-cat/
‘No, seriously. I thought maybe we had a leap year and I forgot about it.’
I hate to do this to you, but 2012 *is* a leap year. 😉
(And, I agree, it’s far too futuristic sounding to be right!)
xc.
I think Robyn meant “an extra year shoehorned in between two regular years, the same way we squeeze in an extra day (February 29th) every so often.”
Aside: Robyn, usually I have all kinds of trouble waking up in the morning. This morning, however, I bolted straight out of bed the instant the alarm rang for the very first time, and got up and directly got dressed and moving and energetic and stuff. The reason is that, in the split second before my alarm went off, I was dreaming that you and I were hanging out, wandering around one of the flea markets down here, and you spied an item (which I am not going to describe in any further detail) that was for sale in an, ahem, adult toy/marital aid stall. You said, “You know, that’s exactly like the one your mom told me she and your dad have. It’s pretty neat – now, the way it works is that THIS end here goes-” and then the alarm went off and I have never been so fucking happy to wake up at 5 A.M. in my entire LIFE. Don’t DO that to me, woman!
Robyn, there’s just something about the mid-40’s that does this two you. Once I hit 47, my age became real to me again. I’m, um, let’s see…48.
I knew that.