This bus wasn’t from the Spud’s school, and we don’t know any of the kids who were on the bus.
Keep those poor kids and their families in your thoughts, if you would, though.
* * *
Reader Aly pointed out that BobPod needs a
Christmas present.
It’s adorable, but BobPod is NOT getting a $100+ present this year. He’ll be lucky if he gets a $5 silicon cover. His needs are few – the occasional recharge, a regular update, a warm pocket in which to rest – and I think he’s spoiled quite enough already.
* * *
I came to the conclusion yesterday while the foster kitties were out running around and making Mister Boogers and Sugarbutt hiss hysterically, that I can handle six cats running around the house all the time. But ten? No. Ten is TOO GODDAMN MANY. Especially when you’re trying to spend the morning making dinner for the next couple of nights, and cats are gathered around you, begging for
just one little piece of chicken, lady!
O’Malley (who Fred is already calling “George”) is far and away the friendliest of the foster kitties. He’ll follow you around, howl up at you, and rub against your legs. They’re all cute, but Fred is most taken with George.
“Do you want to trade in Spot, or Miz Poo?” Fred asked yesterday.
“Neither.”
“Well, we can’t have SEVEN cats!”
Right. Because six is perfectly normal, but SEVEN would be lunacy.
* * *
Speaking of cats, Fred has come to the conclusion that Maxi and Newt have decided that they belong to us. I was changing clothes in the kitchen of the Smallville house (what? Where do YOU change your clothes? The bedroom? BORING.) before we left on Sunday, and he came in, all excited.
“They’re home!” he said.
“Who is?”
“Our kitties!”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked, wondering if perhaps Mister Boogers and Spanky had hiked to Smallville to see just what the hell we were doing that was taking us away from home so many hours of so many days, and causing us to smell of strange pussy when we got home.
“Come see!” he said, and I pulled on my shirt and followed him to the front of the house. He opened the door and walked onto the front porch.
“They brought us a present!” he said proudly, gesturing toward one corner of the porch.
Next to the door, Maxi and Newt chowed hungrily on the plate of canned cat food I’d put out for them a few minutes earlier (we give them a can of cat food before we leave for the evening because we DO NOT want them to starve to death in the 20 to 48 hours until we’re there again). In the corner of the porch was a dead rat.
“Ohhhh, lovely,” I groaned. Now that they prefer the food and lodging on our front porch to that of the people down the street, this means they’ll be bringing all kinds of love offerings for us and leaving them on the porch for us.
Did I mention that my sister’s cats left an EYEBALL from god knows what kind of animal for her on her front porch a few weeks ago?
I suppose that in the future when I write about the sixteen rats, three birds, and twelve crickets Maxi and Newt bring us in the space of a few hours, y’all will just say “That’s what happens when you live in the country!”, won’t you?
* * *
Speaking of cats (and apparently this entry’s going to be All! Cats!, you lucky people), when we got home from Smallville on Saturday, I had a bag of dirty clothes to wash (we keep clothes out there to wear while we’re working on the house so we don’t get our regular clothes nasty), and one of Fred’s shirts smelled strongly of cedar.
Tommy broke into the bag so he could pull out the offending item of clothing and rub all over it.
Does anyone else’s cat get high off the smell of cedar?
* * *
I recently made two new recipes that we liked enough to keep:
Chicken and Black Bean Chilaquiles
Stove Top Easy Chicken Bake
Fred liked the Chilaquiles more than I did, and I liked the Chicken Bake more than he did. Both are definitely worth keeping, though.
* * *
I watched the episode of Oprah where she was on the set of Grey’s Anatomy, and there were parties going on at bars in Chicago, Seattle, and New York, which was part of the show. After I watched the show, I called Fred.
“I’m feeling very jealous and bitter right now,” I told him.
“Why’s that?”
“Because fucking OPRAH had a show with the cast of Grey’s Anatomy* and there were parties in Chicago, New York, and Seattle, hosted by Gayle, Lisa Ling, and Nate, and everyone who was at the parties got FREE VIDEO iPODS from Best Buy!”
“Huh.”
“Those fuckers! Where the fuck is MY free video iPod?”
“You don’t need a video iPod,” Fred said.
“YES I DO. I need to keep up with Grey’s Anatomy just as much as those fuckers in New York, Seattle and Chicago do! What, just because I’m in the SOUTH means I don’t need one of them thar newfangled EEElectronic DEvices? Fuckers.”
“They’re bastards,” Fred said, clearly hoping to get off the phone.
“I hate Oprah**,” I said.
“I’m sure you do.”
*Not enough TR Knight. The WHOLE SHOW should have been a George-centric show.
**Except I don’t really. Damn her. WHERE is my video iPod, Oprah? Where’s the love?
I want to lay in bed and fall asleep to the sounds of George’s excellent one-liners! How come
I don’t get to hear George say “I can’t hear you when his hand is on your boob” as I fall asleep, giggling quietly? I HATE YOU, OPRAH. Except I don’t. DAMN YOU.
* * *
Christina does her flying nun impression.
O’Malley in mid-complaint.
More kitty pics,
here.
* * *
She sees what you’re doing, and insists that you stop IMMEDIATELY. Pervert.
* * *
Previously
2005: Every time I contemplate reading those books, I get a “Good god, I DON’T WANNA!” sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, which to me is a sign that, y’know, I DON’T WANNA and YOU CAN’T MAKE ME.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: Fuck him, too.
2001: It don’t get any better than that, nosir.
2000: I see enough nasty stuff in my life.
1999: No entry.]]>