So, I couldn’t get online before I left for the pet store this morning, so I reacted like a great big baby and had a temper tantrum and posted some pictures via Flickr. You got to see me whine about my internet being down, whine about the sun in my eyes on the way to the pet store, post a greeting from Jabbers, the cat everyone who works at the pet store is in love with, and get excited about the price of gas.
Who says it’s unexciting around here?!
If you ever check this site and see a crappy camera phone picture posted via Flickr, you can assume it’s because my goddamn internet is down AGAIN and the only way I can post is via Flickr (did I mention that Flickr ROCKS?).
I think if I’m going to be posting camera phone pictures, I need a phone that takes better pictures. Dontchathink?
I belong to Goodreads, and every so often one of you ask to be my Goodreads BFF, and of course I’m happy to add you as a friend, even though I’m horribly bad at keeping up with adding the books I’ve read to my list.
But what really annoys me is when someone requests to be added as a Goodreads friend for the sole goddamn purpose of spamming me because they’ve written some shitty book and think because I read books, I’ll want to read the poorly-written book they’re flogging.
Hint: throwing extra adjectives into a book summary doesn’t actually make it sound more interesting. It makes it sound like it was written by a fifth grader with a thesaurus in hand.
Do not cry for Miz Poo, y’all. She is being babied and given the full Princess treatment, to the max. Yesterday morning when I walked into the guest bedroom, she was hanging out in the cubby of the bedside table. I carried her out into the living room with me and we watched The Real Housewives of Atlanta (more on that in a moment), and I took the cone collar off her and scratched her ears and around her neck until she drooled. And then she slept for a long time, and demanded more scratching, and more drooling ensued. I eventually put her back in the guest bedroom so I could go out and touch up the paint on the new chicken coop (when I’m not around to keep an eye on her, I put her in the guest bedroom so the other cats won’t harass her), and then I spent another couple of hours on the couch with her in the afternoon. When I don’t actually have her in my lap, I put the no-cone collar on her. She hasn’t actually shown any interest in licking or biting at the drain or her stitches, but I’d hate to leave her alone and come back to find that she’d pulled the drain out.
Pardon me while I shudder at the idea.
She was a lot more bright-eyed and with-it yesterday morning than she’d been the night before, but we’ve got her on the pain medication so she’s still pretty doped up and sleeps a lot. I think the pain medication is doing a good job, because she doesn’t appear to be in any pain.
Last night when we sat down to watch TV, we took her collar off. She sat on a pillow on my lap for two and a half hours, and she cleaned herself for about two hours and twenty minutes of that time. She did try to lick at her stitches and drain, but I stopped her every time, and she’d look at me like “THIS IS MY BODY I WILL DO WHAT I WANT I HATE YOU WILL YOU SCRATCH MY EARS PLEASE?”
She’ll be fine – don’t worry about my baby, I’ll keep her spoiled rotten.
Real Housewives of Atlanta (skip to the next section if you’re not interested!)
Honest to god, I kind of thought that they’d hype DeShawn’s gala event as being a big flop only so they could jump out of the closet and scream SURPRISE! when all of a sudden the bidding started and DeShawn managed to bring one million and ONE dollars in for her foundation. But holy cripes, what a flop. I thought she was kind of uninformed and naive about how to run a gala, but I ended up feeling sorry for her because of the HUGE flop it turned out to be. They ended up spending $20,000 more on putting the gala ON than they made!
I’m curious why that one woman made a point of asking if LeBron James (I don’t know sports, but even I recognize the name) was going to be there, acted all excited that there’d be some sort of LeBron-centric package being auctioned off, and then pointedly didn’t bid.
When DeShawn was looking for Mark Hayes, I thought she was looking for some guy named Marques. Heh.
When Kim decided to buy that diamond cuff at the gala and she was all “I have to call Big Poppa and tell him I bought this!”, I assume that was a call that went along the lines of “Big Poppa, listen to what you just bought me with the credit card you gave me!”
(By the way, if you’re curious, the word on the web seems to be that “Big Poppa” is married real estate developer Lee Najjar, whoever the hell that is. I don’t know that I’d consider him a “celebrity” as Kim said in the first show, but then I’m not part of the Atlanta social scene, so maybe he’s a celebrity in Atlanta.)
Am I getting this right? Lisa was going to a trunk show to showcase her jewelry, and she and a bunch of friends were sitting around MAKING the jewelry? Because I don’t actually think of jewelry at Macy’s being stringed together by a bunch of people at a kitchen table – but then I’m also not really Macy’s target jewelry (or “JOOORY”, as everyone on this damn show pronounces it) demographic either, so what do I know? (I think Lisa is absolutely gorgeous, by the way, but I prefer her hair curly to straight.)
You know, Kim’s insistence on continually telling Sheree how beautiful she is, is just weird and I think even Sheree was getting uncomfortable with all the smoke Kim was blowing up her ass.
There’s going to be some DRAMA next week, looks like. NeNe doesn’t back down from confrontation, so it should be something to see.
Pictures from around Crooked Acres:
Kara’s assimilation into the Crooked Acres Gang is just about complete. You can’t see it in this picture, but she’s wearing a collar. She LOVES to be outside, and she’s mostly got the hang of the cat door. When she goes outside, she flops down at the bottom of the steps and rolls around. At night, when the door is closed, she tries to lead us to the door every time we head in that direction. I’m sure she’ll understand eventually that night time means no going outside.
Hello, Fall.
We call these three the Three Musketeers. In the few days since I took this picture, they actually got too big to squeeze through the fence, but for a while there they were spending all their time in the side yard cleaning up under the bird feeders.
These girls sure do flop down and sleep hard. Sometimes we have to call them several times before they wake up.
These two have suddenly started flying up and hanging out on top of the gate between the chicken yard and the back yard. Makes me wonder if we’ve got another couple of roosters on our hands.
Hawk, checking out the chickens.
I told Fred yesterday that if I had the naming to do over again, I’d name him Dr. Google instead of Delmar. At least once a day I get the once-over from him. He sniffs my nostrils, my eyes and my breath before he decides that I continue to be healthy. And then he gives me an arm massage before he flops down for petting. He’s part-physician, part-masseuse, ALL lovebug!
The kittens got over being mad at me for taking them off to the scary place pretty quickly – yesterday afternoon Delmar, Marion and Lem all crowded around me and climbed on me, head-butted me for petting, and then complained when I wasn’t quick enough with the petting. They’re so demanding.
Tonight they get their vaccinations, and I expect in the next few days, if they’re interested, I’ll let them out to roam the house. I’ve let Kara in the kitten room to visit with them a few times. She hisses at them and puffs up, but they just look at her like, “What’s YOUR problem?” Our cats might have freaked them out initially, but now they’re not scared at all when Kara or Tommy or Mister Boogers pokes their head into the room.
Claudette continues to be a scaredy cat. It’s like she wants to be friendly, but she’s just too scared to come over for petting. It seems like tortis are always either terrified little scaredy cats, or completely nuts.
(Well, I suppose that goes for ALL cats, really, doesn’t it?)
I expect that she’ll come around eventually, and when she gives in to her deep-down desire to be a snugglebug, she’ll really be a sight to behold.
“Whyyyyyyyy are you not petting me right now? Whyyyyyyyyyy?”
More pics over at L&H.
Stinkerbelle would like you all to know that those of you who pointed out that she’s no longer a “little thing” can KISS HER ASS.
Previously
2007: “Jesus christ, LENNY. I’m not going to PET THE DEAD SQUIRREL.”
2006: Isn’t it nice that I named cats that aren’t mine?
2005: No entry.
2004: List of fives.
2003: (Also, Nance called me “nice.” That bitch!)
2002: But I don’t guess that introspection is the forte of that particular diva.
2001: Who tells stories about you?
2000: This morning, red and goopy.
1999: (Side note: I did nothing, and that just pisses me off. I wish I could go back and smack the shit out of that jerk. I hope his life is hellish).