Author: Robyn

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Our cardinal came back to partake of some nourishing wild bird seed. Looks like he’s peeking at me, doesn’t he? * * * I have to announce that I haven’t watched one single moment of Married by America, and I have no plans to start. I might have, except that during the blizzard of commercials Fox tossed at us, there was this girl – I think it was Billie Jeanne, but I can’t swear to it – who said, at the end of the commercial, “Pleeeeazh. No lewwwwwzherz”, and she sounded JUST FUCKING LIKE ROGER RABBIT, which is fine and dandy if you’re a cartoon rabbit, but I swear to each and every one of you that if she had been standing in front of me when she said that, my hand would have reflexively shot out, and I would have beaten her to death. I don’t think I’ve ever taken such an instant dislike to anyone before in my life, but I find myself, at odd moments, imitating her, and if you could bottle the vitriol in my voice when I do it, you could probably use it quite effectively in the War on Terror.� Something about her is like biting on tinfoil to me, and I writhe in hatred every time I think of her. Of course, I just did another imitation of her for Fred, and I think I make her sound more like Carol Channing. Roger Rabbit, Carol Channing, same diff. I still hate that girl, no matter who she sounds like. And besides – someone who’s going on a show to have the country pair her up with some stranger is requesting no losers? Honey, you’re already there. * * * Miz Poo just adores draping herself over my arm, so that I may easily rub her chin and belly. This is why it takes me so long to write an entry some days.]]>

* * * Someone who considers herself a fan of the spud (and why did I not realize that the spud has her own fans?) sent in a bunch of questions about the spud yesterday. Since I had a few about her in the queue, I decided today I’d get the spud questions answered. I’m not going to answer all of them, out of respect for her privacy, but I’ll answer most of them. Reader Patty asks: How does your daughter feel about having her life written about? She actually seems to think it’s pretty cool. I don’t know that she completely understands it all, but when we mention that we’ve written about her in an entry, she’s pleased. Fred and I were talking about an entry once at the dinner table, and she said “Am I in the entry?” Fred said, “Yes, it’s about you!” (It was an entry about something funny she’d said or done) She responded with “Good.” That pretty much sums up her attitude about it – as long as we mention her every once in a while, she’s happy. Reader Shannon asks: How about answering the question of why you refer to your daughter as only the Spud. I actually addressed this on her cast page, saying Because it creeps me out, the thought of complete strangers knowing her name. Nothing personal, you understand. Of course, that was written 3 1/2 years ago, when I had images of stalkers tracking her down. At this point, plenty of you out there know her first name. But she doesn’t have the same last name as Fred and I, so it would be that much more difficult for you crazy stalkers to find her. It’s pretty much become a habit, and I think it’s probably safer to keep it up at least for the next few years. Reader Rebecca asks: Does The Spud know about the website, and if she doesn’t, are you concerned that maybe one day she will find out about it and read it? She does know that Fred and I have websites, but she’s never asked to read them, maybe because the idea of reading her parents’ journals sounds pretty boring. If she wanted to read my journal, I can’t imagine that I’d have much of a problem with it – she knows I swear like a sailor, and I don’t think I’ve ever gone into my sex life in detail, so I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t want her to read. Reader Judy asks: Does the “spud” have a nice ole’ southern accent–and is that sort of weird to you? What were other kids reactions to her at first? She doesn’t really – at least not that I can tell – have a southern accent. A couple of years ago she was telling me a story about being outside roller skating, and she said “I was fixing to go up the hill…”, which is a definite southern-ism, so I guess she’s picked up some southern sayings, but not an accent. At least I don’t think so! I think that part of that is because the area where we live is filled with people from other parts of the country – a large number of people from St. Louis, for one, plus there’s a large Army base nearby – so she doesn’t pick up southern accents from the other kids. The kids at her school and in our neighborhood didn’t really have a reaction to her, because they’re used to non-southerners. It would probably be different if we lived out in the country, I’m sure. Reader Angie asks: What do you and Fred call your daughter at home? Since both of you always refer to her as “the Spud” in your journals, I wondered if you call her by her real name the rest of the time. Do you sometimes slip and call her Spud when you’re not writing a journal entry? I usually call her by her name; Fred either calls her by her name, or occasionally, when he wants to get her attention, he’ll call her “young child.” I don’t know that we’ve ever called her “Spud” to her face, but she knows that that’s the name we call her in our journals, and she’ll sometimes refer to herself as “The Spud”, because it amuses her. Reader Suzie asks: Where is “Spud’s” biological father? Are you two divorced, never married, is he deceased? If he’s not the last option, does the “Spud” ever see, talk to, or hear from her father? The spud’s father lives in Rhode Island with his fiancee. He calls the spud at least every other week on Sunday evenings, and she spent two weeks in California with he and his fiancee last summer – he’s from California, and his parents, sister, and various other relatives live out there. She’ll be seeing him again this summer for a week. Additionally, they email back and forth every so often, and if the spud has a question or something she wants to discuss with him, she’s free to call him. I was married to the spud’s father for 8 years, and our divorce was finalized shortly after I moved to Alabama. Reader Heather asks: I read and enjoy both your and Fred’s journals. I have noticed that he discusses interactions with the Spud much more than you do, or seem to in my perception anyway. I was wondering if this is just because they tend to do more stuff together or if you do and it is just so everyday that you don’t think if mentioning it, or if you try to give her a little more privacy about her actions. You know, that’s a good question. I think the reason Fred ends up writing more about the spud is because when she does or says something funny, he’ll ask if he can write about it, and since he’s writing about it, I don’t, because we have many shared readers, and it would be rather redundant to both write about the same thing. There are things that go on in her life that I don’t write about because I feel like it would be an invasion of her privacy, but I try to be nice to my readers and not allude to them in the “There’s something going on that I can’t talk about” way. Nothing big, really, just things I don’t think she’d want a bazillion strangers reading about. And big spud fan reader CA asks: What does she want to be when she grows up? At the moment, she wants to be a math teacher – a 5th grade math teacher, to be exact. Actually, I say “at the moment”, but I think she’s wanted to be a teacher since she was 10 or so. Does she think about college and stuff? She does think about college, although it’s more of a vague way rather than where she wants to go to college or anything concrete. One of the things I really like is that she takes it for granted that she’s going to go to college – it’s a “when”, not an “if”. Are you freaked out by the thought of the Spud going to college? Not yet – I’m more freaked out at the idea of her driving in less than two years. Eeek! If given my choice, I’d like to have her live at home for her first year of college – or at least go locally – but it’s not my choice, and I’m not going to push her in any particular direction. What are the Spud’s hobbies, if any? She likes playing games on her computer, watching TV, and writing short stories and poetry. Oh, and listening to music. Favorite food? She loves chinese food – she’d probably eat it every single day if she could. Music? Like me, it really depends on the song. She likes country and pop, the Beatles and some cheesy ’80s stuff. I recently made a CD for her at her request, and the song list was: Ironic – Alanis Morrissette, Losing Grip – Avril Lavigne, Hard Days Night – the Beatles, Old Red – Blake Shelton, The Baby – Blake Shelton, Living on a Prayer – Bonjovi, Fishin’ Song – Brad Paisley, No Such Thing – John Mayer, Proud to be an American – Lee Greenwood, God Blessed Texas – Little Texas, Just a Friend – Mario, Concrete Angel – Martina McBride, I Have Been Blessed – Martina McBride, Youth of the Nation – POD, She’s My Kind of Rain – Tim McGraw and the Dance Hall Doctors, Let’s Talk about Me – Toby Keith. So, yeah – lots of country, but a little bit of everything tossed in. Does it bother the Spud that she lives so far from her Dad? Her cousin? It doesn’t seem to – she’s used to it, I think. She does get plenty of time with Brian and Debbie and my parents in the summer, though. She’s never said that it bothers her and she doesn’t act like it does, so I’m going to assume that she’s okay with it. Do you think the Spud talks to you about everything? Actually, I think she does. She’s pretty open about her life and her friends and how she feels, and she certainly talks to me more openly than I ever talked to my mother, so I’ll say that yes – she talks to me about most everything. (Back to the FAQ page) Have a question you’d like answered? Ask away!]]>

(pardon the blurriness) As a result, we’re going through bird seed at an amazing rate, with the feeders needing to be filled up almost every day. Since the wild bird seed (the cheapest stuff I can find – what, like I’m going to buy the expensive stuff? They’re birds!) at the grocery store is about twice as expensive as that at Wal-Mart, I bought a few big bags at Wal-Mart (yes, I swore I’d never return. Believe me, I wasn’t happy about it), but the birds burned through those in no time flat. Finally, last week when Fred and I were feeding the cats at the pet store, I noticed that they had huge bags on sale for a pretty good price. When we were almost out of the Wal-Mart bird seed, I went to the pet store and bought a 40 pound bag of wild bird seed for $7.50.

Not only was this a pretty damn good price (as far as I can tell – don’t burst my bubble), but it’s also started attracting a cardinal, who stops by regularly to fill up. He’s a nervous sort, though, and apparently knows that we have cats, so he sits in the tree and checks out the surroundings carefully before venturing forth to eat. And then he swoops in to eat a little before something spooks him and he flies off. The birds in our back yard spend a LOT of time being spooked. One minute the ground will be covered with blackbirds and doves, and the feeders will be coated in (we think) finches, and suddenly they’ll all fly off in a cloud with a loud squawk, sit in the trees for a few minutes, and then gradually make their way back to the feeders. They see the cats watching them, but they don’t seem to be scared of the cats – perhaps they don’t realize that’s a cat door right by the feeders. Of course, they’re perfectly safe, because although the cats will chatter and whip their tails around and flatten themselves along the floor and watch the birds with big, dark eyes, it doesn’t seem to occur to them that they can actually go through the cat door and chase the birds. * * * The spud got off the phone after talking to her father last week and said “Daddy said that [his girlfriend] is going to have her tubes cleaned out!” “Oh really?” I said. “Yeah. He says they want to have a kid. Daddy wants twins! Fraternal twins!” she said, a little excited at the idea of having a little brother or sister or maybe both. “Well, good luck to Daddy on that,” I said. Heh. * * * It occurs to me that I have a whole folder of FAQ questions I still haven’t gotten to. If nothing more exciting happens around here, I’ll concentrate on getting those answered over the next few days. If you have any burning questions to be added to the list, ask!]]>

* * * So, I’ve been thinking lately about making some changes. Not anything big, just journal-related stuff. I’ve decided to buy another named-related url (Robyn-related, not Bitchypoo-related, that is), and I can’t decide whether I want to keep the same journal name, or change it. I’d kind of like to change it, because 3 1/2 years is a long time with the same journal name, but I’m stumped. I can’t seem to come up with another journal name that’s as much “me” as Bitchypoo. That’s where you come in. Suggest a new journal name! I reserve the right to not like anything and decide to stick with Bitchypoo, though. Yeah, Bitchypoo will be moving. It’ll be a while – I haven’t even bought the url I want to, yet – but I thought I’d mention it so that y’all wouldn’t be taken by surprise. Also, due to popular request, I’ve started rating the books I read – you can see the new rating system on the 2003 reading page. Thanks to Fred, who gave me the idea! Over the weekend, Fred took the spud and went to a nearby flea market. When he came home, he had something that your ordinary person would consider a clothes hamper. But he’s not an ordinary person, so he looked at it and immediately thought…

“The cats would love that!” (The hamper didn’t come with that pillow – we added it so the little dears would be comfortable) It was only $3, so he bought it. When he put it down on the living room floor, Miz Poo immediately set up camp. He brought it upstairs last night and put the pillow in it, and Spot claimed it. This morning, it was empty for quite a while, until someone else found it. I think they like it so much because they feel enclosed, but they can see everything that’s going on around them through the mesh “walls”. We now have five places in the master bedroom specifically for the cats to lay and/ or sleep on – the hamper (above), the sweater dryer under the TV, the pillow atop the cedar chest under the window, the amazon box we cut a hole in, and the kitty condo, which is another place Tubby likes to snooze. * * * And last, but certainly not least, speaking of kitties, today being Monday, Fred and I made our usual trip to the pet store. There were only two cats in the entire cat room – Midgie, and a new one, Bella. Bella’s just as friendly as she can be, and let us hold her for quite a while. She’s a serious shedder, though, and when I handed her back to Fred, I felt like I was wearing a beard made of cat fur. I love her little pink nose, and shedding aside, she has really soft fur. Such a cutie! ]]>

What Keeps me Sane 1. Da kitties. No matter what’s going on, I know I can get me some kitty love. Usually it’s from Miz Poo, but most any of the kitties will kindly allow me to pet them atop their little heads. Aside from the soothingness (yes, I made that up) of petting them, they constantly amuse me. Either they’re chattering at the birds who flock to the feeders, or they’re trying to kick each others’ ass, or there’s some Fancypants – Tubby action going on. I love me some kitties, have I mentioned? 2. Some readers. I have to say, some of the email I’ve gotten over the last week (especially the Lisas who are aghast that the reader mentioned last Monday was also named Lisa) has been funny as hell. And the pet pictures? I’m loving them. Keep them coming! 3. Books and magazines. I’m so glad that I married someone who loves to read as much as I do. Whenever we have some extra, unspoken-for money, the first thought on both of our minds is “Let’s buy some books!” It’s even better when I start a book I don’t think I’m going to like very much, only to end up staying up until midnight because I HAVE to know how it ends. 4. The online journals and diet journals I read. Because I love reading about the lives, struggles, and triumphs of other people – whether their lives are similar to mine, or nothing at all like mine. 5. Fred. Of course – because (pardon the sap) he’s my best friend and I can count the fights we’ve had on one hand. Because he understands what I’m talking about, he gets (most of!) my jokes, and in a few days, we’ll have known each other for 7 years, and he still makes me laugh. When something happens, big or small, he’s the first person I want to tell. And he loves cats as much as I do. 6. The spud. Because she reminds me so much of myself at that age that it’s scary. She’s not exactly like I was, but I know how she thinks, and somehow that’s oddly comforting. She’s gorgeous and silly and funny and it’s going to be hard as hell to let her make her own mistakes, but I know I’ve gotta. 7. Candles (I stole this one from Say). My favorite candle scent of all time is Yankee Candles’ Buttercream, but I like most food-scented candles. I love to light one candle in the living room, one in the computer room, and a couple upstairs. As I walk through the house, it smells awesome all the way through.]]>

A Day in the Life of Mr. Fancypants (A pictorial) Snoozing on the cat pillow on the bed in the master bedroom. This is actually unusual – he doesn’t lay there very often, it’s usually Spot’s spot. Moving from the master bedroom to the guest bedroom. And being joined by Spot a while later. I think it was a good idea to stick a couple of pillows under the sheet, because all the cats seem to like sleeping on them from time to time. “Do I want to flop in front of the fire, or go find some birds to kill?” Pissed, because the birds are too fast for him this time of year. It’s raining out, so Mr. Fancypants will flop down next to Spanky (who looks quite pleased, doesn’t he?) and snooze for a while. Still raining out. Poor, depressed Fancypants. He loves to go outside, but hates to get his toes wet. Sitting in the computer room, seeing if there are any old, sick birds in the front yard. Giving his daddy looks o’ love.]]>

Mary Ellen‘s mom), who sent me a bunch of doctor’s office pens, pads o’ paper, and some really cool paper clips. I love that stuff like you wouldn’t believe. Obviously, I should get me a job at a doctor’s office. Except, I don’t need to, because Gail rocks!) Thanks also to reader Sandy in Florida, who was recently on vacation in San Francisco, and visited the Lush store there. Knowing my love of Lush, she bought me a BUNCH of stuff, and sent it to me. Why? Because she rocks, of course! 🙂 As an aside, I highly encourage thinking to yourself “What, oh WHAT can I buy for Robyn?” when you’re on vacation! (And as another aside, you know I’m kidding, right?)

* * * A Day in the Life of Spanky (A pictorial) Shnoozing in his favorite chair, getting fur all over his momma’s favorite blanket. Time for a bath! And time for more snoozing… After being kicked off the chair by his mother – that bitch – he licks his wounded, uh, pride. And contemplates how much he hates his momma. You can’t see it, but Miz Poo’s sitting on the side of the tub looking down at Spanky. He’s trying to decide whether it’s safe to eat, or if Miz Poo will descend upon him with her Smack o’ Doom. Places to go, people to see, things to do! Back on the chair. Nice of momma to fold that quilt up for Spanky, isn’t it? “Do I want to go hide out in my “house” or not? Hmmm…” There are actually days when Spanky hangs out in that box all day long. Or at least until he leaves to eat or use the litter box, and Fancypants steals his spot. Back on the chair once again. This sleepy “what the hell?” look is my favorite Spanky expression. You can tell (if you click on the picture to see the full-sized version) that he’s holding his paw up as if he can’t decide whether he wants to clean it or go back to sleep.]]>

Mary Ellen‘s mom), who sent me a bunch of doctor’s office pens, pads o’ paper, and some really cool paper clips. I love that stuff like you wouldn’t believe. Obviously, I should get me a job at a doctor’s office. Except, I don’t need to, because Gail rocks!) Thanks also to reader Sandy in Florida, who was recently on vacation in San Francisco, and visited the Lush store there. Knowing my love of Lush, she bought me a BUNCH of stuff, and sent it to me. Why? Because she rocks, of course! 🙂 As an aside, I highly encourage thinking to yourself “What, oh WHAT can I buy for Robyn?” when you’re on vacation! (And as another aside, you know I’m kidding, right?)

* * * A Day in the Life of Spanky (A pictorial) Shnoozing in his favorite chair, getting fur all over his momma’s favorite blanket. Time for a bath! And time for more snoozing… After being kicked off the chair by his mother – that bitch – he licks his wounded, uh, pride. And contemplates how much he hates his momma. You can’t see it, but Miz Poo’s sitting on the side of the tub looking down at Spanky. He’s trying to decide whether it’s safe to eat, or if Miz Poo will descend upon him with her Smack o’ Doom. Places to go, people to see, things to do! Back on the chair. Nice of momma to fold that quilt up for Spanky, isn’t it? “Do I want to go hide out in my “house” or not? Hmmm…” There are actually days when Spanky hangs out in that box all day long. Or at least until he leaves to eat or use the litter box, and Fancypants steals his spot. Back on the chair once again. This sleepy “what the hell?” look is my favorite Spanky expression. You can tell (if you click on the picture to see the full-sized version) that he’s holding his paw up as if he can’t decide whether he wants to clean it or go back to sleep.]]>

A Day in the life of Miz Poo (A pictorial) Laying on the pillow on The Momma’s bed. That pillow is there just especially for Miz Poo, who is a spoiled rotten brat. But you knew that. And now laying sulkily on the bed on the other side of the pillow, because The (mean bitch of a) Momma was reading and not petting. Hmph. Taking a bath with The Daddy, and thinking about cracking open that Stephen King book. Apparently a tad freaked out at the idea. Sitting on a pillow on The Momma’s lap, so she can’t cross-stitch or read or do ANYTHING but pet me. So there! “Do I want to go get something to eat, or just sit here so The Momma can’t put her arm here? Decisions, decisions…” Chewing on the cord to the blinds, while looking for birds. Time to hide under the couch so The Daddy can’t shove something down her throat! “If I sit by the fence, the birds won’t notice me, and I can catch and eat one of them…” All the bird-watching is apparently quite tiring. Surfing the web with The Momma (who looks quite lovely with her nose squished like that, no?) and trying to reach the mouse with her short, stubby little front legs. Settling down by the fire – and yet, not looking terribly pleased about it. Trying to decide whether or not to deal a final smack upside the head of one Tubster J. And3rson before bedtime.]]>

P.S. … For Robin, The supermarkets have candy and tabloid free lanes. How about a fn cat free entry? Again, nothin but love. I thought about copying the big, boxed disclaimer on my front page and reprinting it here, like such: Disclaimer: Before reading this web site, please be aware of two important things: 1. I write about my cats a LOT, and 2. I swear like a sailor when the mood strikes me. If either of these things bother you, I’d like to suggest that you read someone else’s journal – there are thousands of them out there – rather than email me and demand that I change my ways. In the event that you feel you MUST email me and demand that I clean up my language and only write about things that interest you, please know that I will most likely tell you to go fuck yourself. In like manner, if you whine about the fact that I write too much about my cats (or swear too much) in a public forum that I will eventually stumble across, I would also like to take this opportunity to suggest that you go fuck yourself. Thankssomuch. And then I thought about saying “Loyal reader Lisa, if you can’t be bothered to spell my name correctly, I would do as you ask why, precisely?” But, that would be childish. I really am, all in all, an easygoing sort who will from time to time bend over backwards to make readers happy. Let’s see whether or not I can give Lisa what she wants!

* * * A Day in the Life of Tubby (A pictorial) Sitting by the garage door, waiting for some food to wander by. Snoozing. He may not fit comfortably in the top of that thing, but damnit, he’ll sleep there anyway! Waiting in vain for some food to flutter by. Because he’s not all big and obvious sitting under those bird feeders or anything… Getting a belly rub from the daddy. Hunting down that weird red dot that just appears out of nowhere. Almost got it! But it disappeared at the last second, damnit. Well, fuck the laser. I’ll just soften up this pillow for a nice, long nap. It’s been such an exhausting day, and it’s only noon! Or maybe I’ll just scoot over to the kitty condo, and lay there and stare at the daddy with luhhhv in my eyes. I haven’t shed fur on nearly enough things today, so I’ll snooze on Mom’s cool afghan. And she won’t notice that it’s covered with hair until she pulls it over her. I have to keep an eye on that evil Miz Poo, who sits by the bathroom door and hisses at me if I try to go get some food. And back to the kitty condo for the night!]]>