Chevrolet Aveo in silver. Not ONLY is it a new car and a cute one to boot, but it also reportedly has a kick-ass stereo AND air conditioning. I’m so excited for her!
Deb’s never owned a brand-new car in her life and I think she’s a little weirded out by the idea of owning one.
Now, what should I send her for a car-warming present?
* * *
Friday night, Fred and I watched an episode of
Barely Famous I’d taped the night before. Barely Famous, if you’re not interested in following the link, is a reality show on CMT about Brad and Brett Warren – the Warren Brothers, obviously – who’ve been in the country music business for ages, written hits for artists such as Faith Hill and Sarah Evans, among others, but no one outside of the industry has a clue who the hell they are.
It was a pretty funny show – I thought Fred was going to pass out laughing when the Warren Brother with the long hair (I don’t know which is which just yet) was standing in the reception area of their record label, and someone’s cell phone went off, and long-haired Warren said “Got a loud enough ring there, Helen Keller?” Those guys do NOT look like country singers, though – they look more like stoners. No offense to you stoners out there, but the Warrens totally look stereotypical stoners. I’m sure you do not resemble the stereotypical stoner, and are a fashion plate unto yourself, so I’m not insulting you, mm’kay? Look, over there! Doritos!
So the show was amusing enough and it was cool to see the occasional country star, but I don’t know that I’d go out of my way to watch it again. I might tape a few more episodes so that we’re never stuck watching “real time” TV again, though.
* * *
Saturday night at 7, Fred was wandering around in the kitchen making his evening snack. The spud walked into the room, grabbed a bag of microwaveable popcorn, and put it in the (can you guess??) microwave. I was sitting on the couch reading a magazine while waiting for them both to get the hell out of my way.
“Did you know that muttermuttermutter died?” the spud said to Fred.
“Yeah,” Fred replied.
“Who?” I said, turning around to look at them. “Who died?”
“Morrie,” they chorused.
“Oh my god!” I gasped. “Maury Povich is DEAD?”
“No,” Fred said. “Morrie, from
Tuesdays with Morrie.” The spud’s been reading that book, and had apparently come to the end.
“Oh. Yeah, I knew
he was dead.”
And I wonder why I have a reputation for being ditzy…
* * *
The spud’s sleepover at her friend Becky’s house went well. I told the spud to call when she wanted me to come pick her up – though it had to be before 10 or after 12, because Fred and I were going on a hike – and she didn’t call until sometime after 2. When I got there to pick her up, Becky brought a one week-old kitten out to show me. Her cat had had four kittens, and they were all spoken for except for one. Naturally, the spud was DYING for me to say yes, and Becky said “You KNOW you want to say yes!” and I said “Of course I do, but no.” and we left.
It sure was a cute little thing.
But it might turn out to have problems on the scale of those Miz Poo has, and we can barely afford to keep HER up and running, let alone throwing another problem cat into the mix. Her lip, lately, has been getting worse. The vet thought that she might have allergies, so we (meaning Fred) have been giving her a pill two to three times a day for the last few weeks. It didn’t get better, and in fact got worse. It got so bad that it was hard to even look at her, because it just
looked painful. It didn’t seem to really bother her, but it certainly bothered us.
Saturday morning Fred called a different vet than the one we usually go to. Our regular vet hadn’t been able to figure out what was going on, so we thought it was time for a second opinion. He made an appointment for 2:00, so he was gone when I left to get the spud, and he was still gone when I got back. He didn’t get home until almost 3:00, in fact.
$300 down the drain, once again. Fred has taken to referring to Miz Poo as the money pit, and our million-dollar cat. The vet ran several tests on Miz Poo, took blood, and finally said that she thinks it’s an autoimmune disorder and might even be responsible for all the eye problems she’s been having. She gave Fred antibiotics and steroids, and wants to see Miz Poo in two weeks. We (Fred) started her on the medication right away, and already her lip looks better – less swollen and less dry and cracked. If this helps, then Miz Poo will most likely have to be on steroids for the rest of her life.
The pills are $1 a pill from the vet, but Fred found the same pills online for 20 cents a pill, so if this becomes a lifelong thing, we’ll start buying them online.
Miz Poo on steroids? Watch out for that ‘roid rage…
* * *
Pet store kitty pics from today are
here. The pictures from last week are
here.
* * *
“You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me? Then who the hell else are you talkin’ to, yellow ball? You talkin’ to me? Well, I’m the only one here. Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”]]>