cat page? I added Tom Cullen and Sugarbutt the other night. I’m not done by a long shot – I need to add my sister’s cats to the “Kitty relatives” section, and I need to do a page for Mia’s babies, but other than that, I think I’ll be all set. Oh, and I think I’ll add a page for the spud’s cat who died years ago, because she counts.
For that matter, I probably ought to do a page for the cat we had when I was growing up. But if I do that, I’d need to do a page for my very first cat, Suzie, and my favorite cat – the cat who made me love orange tabbies more than anything in the world – Charlie, who was one of Suzie’s kittens.
Oh, it’s a slippery slope.
* * *
Thank god for the internet. I had to drive to Ardmore yesterday afternoon to go to Miz Poo’s vet. When we were there last week, the vet prescribed Clavam0x for Miz Poo in liquid form. The problem is that Miz Poo loathes the taste of the Clavam0x and has been drooling it back out as soon as Fred shoots it in her mouth. Then she runs around and drools and shakes her head so that drool goes everywhere, and as the person responsible for cleaning the floors she splatters her drool all over, I was less than pleased. So I called this morning to see if we could get the medication – or something similar – in pill form. They told me I could come get Am0xicillin, and I had to wait until the afternoon because the spud had custody of the car.
ANYway. I headed for Ardmore, and about halfway there, the road was blocked off by several police cars and a fire truck. A policeman was shooing cars off to the left, so I turned down that road, and just basically tried to head in the correct direction. Only, after a while I had no fucking clue where I was or how to get back to highway 53, so I called Fred, who consulted Google Maps and sent me in the right direction. All in all, it took me almost an hour and a half to get to the vet and home again, when it usually takes me about an hour.
It was okay, though. I had some good music to listen to. I might not have any clue what the song MEANS, but Gavin DeGraw’s
Chariot is a really good song.
* * *
Over at Smart and Sassy,
someone asked if she needed to tip at Starbucks every time she got coffee, and in the comments
Jane was like “What the fuck? I’m supposed to tip everyone who makes minimum wage?”, and I – well, first of all I laughed, because that Jane, she’s funny. Then I got lost in a daydream where the entire world was made so that we could tip everyone. For instance, if I’m at Sam’s and there’s someone with their fucking cart blocking the entire aisle, I can say “Lady, I’ll give you a buck to get your ass out of my way”, hand her a buck, and get her the hell out of the way. Of course, the problem there would be the people who saw an opportunity and exploited it. People could probably make a living hanging out at Wal-Mart and being a pain in the ass.
Now, they just do it for free.
* * *
I had to call Blu3 Cross yesterday to check on a claim, and apparently in the few months since I last called there, they’ve instituted a voice recognition system, where you talk to the computer on the other end of the line like it’s a real person, and I don’t know. It felt kind of weird and freaky and wrong. I had to tell the computer my contract number, and
she it heard a “b” as “t”, and when it repeated the contract number back to me, it said “Right?” at the end, and I thought that was odd and far too casual for a fucking computer who’s talking to a customer, because as a customer and a HUMAN, I outrank the computer, and I’d like a little RESPECT, thank you.
Anyway, I said “No”, and believe you me sister I really REALLY wanted to say “The number is
WRONG, bitch!”, but I didn’t, because they probably could have figured out who I was, and the next thing I’d know there’d be a computer pounding on the door, trailing its wires down the street, saying – in a scary, mechanical, bitchy voice – “WHO YOU CALLIN’ A BITCH, BITCH?”
I don’t like that voice recognition shit. Next thing you know, the computers will be taking! over! the world!
* * *
Someone in my comments yesterday pointed out that we’ve had six cats before, so this should be nothing new to us. Actually, the most cats we’ve ever had up until now, was before Fancypants ran away, and we had five cats. We got Mister Boogers to “replace” Fancypants, and then when Tubby died, we didn’t adopt another cat (it being Fred’s idea to let the cat population dwindle down to two cats. Ha! Ha!). So we have six now, but it really seems more like ten. There are cats EVERYWHERE, especially because most of them like to follow me around, particularly when I’m in the kitchen. (Sugarbutt and Tom Cullen particularly enjoy hanging out in the kitchen, because they hope food might magically fall from the sky). Right now I’ve got Tom Cullen draped across my right foot, Miz Poo in the cat bed to the left of me, Sugarbutt in the cat bed to the right of me, Mister Boogers on the recliner in the corner of the computer room, and Spanky in the middle of the floor.
We are definitely going to officially name him Sugarbutt, because it’s just a perfect name. I did threaten to name him “Doo McGillicuddy” and just call him Sugarbutt, but Fred wouldn’t go for that.
Oh, and in response to a few of you who asked, yes. Sugarbutt and Tom Cullen play with Mister Boogers. Sugarbutt plays with him most of all, but they both definitely play with him at different times. Mister Boogers just adores pinning Sugarbutt down and grooming him.
“Hi, Boogie! Hi!”
The positions they end up sleeping in, I just don’t know. How can that be comfortable?
Brudderly love.
All of today’s uploaded pictures can be seen
here.
* * *
Previously
2004: All this cleaning is making me lightheaded.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Little things make me happy.
1999: Guest entry by Fred.]]>