8/2/10 – Monday

New month, new logo!

This one was made by Sofia (in Sweden!), isn’t it adorable? Thanks, Sofia!

(The text in the background of that banner is from this entry. I recognized it immediately!)

For the record, if anyone’s feeling artsy and wants to make a banner for future months, go for it. I love the banners you guys come up with. Y’all so talented.

 

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Okay, y’all have GOT to help me out. This is the picture I’ve been staring at for the last month. It’s my July calendar picture:

(That’s Gus, from the Wonkas, if you didn’t already know it.)

That picture reminds me vaguely of a picture from the 70s. It might be an album picture, or it might be a publicity shot. It might be Barbra Streisand or Barry Gibb or possibly even Andy Gibb or perhaps someone I can’t think of. All I know in the very faintest edge of my memory, is that the person’s face and hair takes up the whole picture – or at least most of it. On second thought, maybe it’s a topless man. What I know is that the hair is dark and luxurious and takes up a lot of space (unless it’s blond. But it’s definitely luxurious and looks kind of wind-blown). And the person’s face is looking directly at the camera.

Google image search isn’t bringing up anything that strikes a chord with me. Anything come to mind for y’all? Help? THIS IS DRIVING ME NUTS.

Maybe no such picture exists. Maybe I just made it up. ARGH.

 

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I was wandering around the internet over the weekend, and followed a link to another link and then suddenly I was looking at a picture of a smug douchebag, and I wasn’t exactly expecting it, so I said aloud – because I talk to myself a lot – “Who’s the douchebag?”

I think someone needs to buy the domain whosthedouchebag.com or maybe whatadouchebag.com, and we could all upload pictures of douchebags we know or have run across, complete with stories of why the alleged douchebag is a douchebag, and then people could vote for the level of douchebaggery that comes across in the picture and story on a scale from 1 – 10.

There could be categories of douchebag, like “Sensitive New Age douchebag,” “Smug and condescending douchebag,” “Using the wrong too/to/two or there/they’re/their douchebag,” “Know-it-all douchebag,” “Celebrity douchebag,” (“Mel Gibson douchebag!”) and “Bible-thumping douchebag who tells you that your wife must submit to you while he’s trolling the internet for strange men with whom to have torrid sexual encounters*.”

For instance.

I told Fred about the woman (assuming) on YouTube who chastised me for “allowing” Kara’s kittens to nurse even though they were 4 months old (Drive-by douchebag!), and I told him that I’d posted a reply saying, in effect, “Yes, well, let me just go back in time and force her to wean them, shall I?”, then I closed comments on the video so she couldn’t post a reply to my reply.

“You’re a douchebag category all your own!” he said.

Everyone’s got their douchebag moments, which makes the whole whosthatdouchebag.com that much more appealing, no?

*This douchebag exists, he runs a message board Fred has frequented on and off for years, and I LOATHE him. Back when we lived in Madison and I didn’t want a dog – and then we ended up with Jake – he told Fred that HIS wife also didn’t want a dog but she submitted to his wishes and now could often be found “romping” with their dogs. In the time since then, they’ve divorced and it came out that he’d been trolling the internet for years looking for sexual encounters with strange men, and in one of the ads he used the words “man scent” (as in, expressing his desire to get up close and personal below the waist and “inhale your man scent”), and you better bet your ass I use that phrase when I want to see Fred shudder with revulsion.

 

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So, one week is the amount of time it took for Miss Melodie to come around. On Saturday I went into the kitten room and took her down off the cat tree, as usual. Then I sat on the floor holding her to me, and patted her and kissed her behind the ear and told her how pretty she was like I usually do. She put up with it for about 30 seconds, and then she fled for the cat tree. Only this time, instead of climbing to the top of the cat tree and glaring down at me, she stopped halfway to the cat tree, turned around, and came back for more petting.

She’s still skittish, but it’s definitely progress.

Ninja Moxie will put the smack down, little boy.

“I disapprove of this behavior.”

Martin loves to attack this pillow. I think it must taunt him when I’m not around.

This is the face of a kitten who has just woken up and doesn’t want to get down off the cat tree himself. He wants me to come get him and put him on the floor. He meows huskily at me until I bend to his will, and as I’m putting him down on the floor, I like to say “Wahhh! I’m the BAY-BEE!” in a mocking way. Oh, I crack myself up.

 

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Joe in the Joe cave. Is that a happy boy, or what?

But someone’s always gotta come along and ruin the happy moment. (That’s Corbett. I’m sure he just wanted to be friends. He wasn’t trying to be all up in Joe Bob’s space. Right? Yeah, right.)

 

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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: Really, here at Crooked Acres, it’s sometimes best to just look the other way, and not ask aaaaaaany questions.
2006: No entry. Sorry!
2005: I wanted to lay in bed and sniff my hair all day long.
2004: me: “Brian, I sure do love you, but I’m glad we’ll never have to sit this close to each other ever again.” Brian: “I feel the same.”
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: $1200 for one single washer. What the fuck’s up with that?
2000: can you say “Bring a book”?