At the pet store yesterday, I was thrilled to find out that
Malley had FINALLY been adopted. I had
Malley and his siblings way back… I think when Nance and Rick were here, actually. The day they left, I got Malley and his siblings. They were here about a month, then I took them to the pet store around the middle of November. Their siblings slowly got adopted, and then it was just down to Malley and Deuce. For the past three weeks, at least, Malley and
Deuce had been sitting in a cage together. Deuce finally got adopted last week, so Malley went into a smaller cage by himself, and then he got adopted Tuesday evening.
Now if only Punki and Felicia would get their butts adopted, too! I had a serious discussion with Punki, and I hope like hell that I get an email from the shelter manager over the weekend letting me know that they’ve been adopted. I’m starting to get a complex. Are our fosters getting the And3rson stank on them, thus repelling potential adopters, or what?
Also, I finally took some pet store kitties pics (last week!), and you can see them
hither.
Heath Ledger, what a shock, huh? I think what was so shocking was that he’s never been one of those “Celebrity on the edge!” types, so we just didn’t expect this at ALL. If it had been Britney, we would have been saddened, but not
surprised.
Damn. I always liked Heath Ledger, ever since I saw him in
10 Things I Hate About You.
I made it to my hair appointment right on time, and told my Hair Chick that it was time! Time to grow my hair out! I’ve had it short for a couple of years now, and I’d like to grow it out just enough to get annoyed with it and then chop it all off, because that’s the way I play it, baby.
She colored it and trimmed it, and I left with a case of old-lady helmet head like always. Le sigh.
This is the smug face I make that makes Fred want to smack me. Hell, I want to smack myself, seeing that look. (
flickr)
I swear to god, sometimes I think I should just chop all my damn hair off and go for
this look. And if I was half as cute as Alyssa Milano, I just might! I’d be too self-conscious about my chin flab flapping in the wind, though. Not, I guess, that my current hair length masks it much.
Fucking hair.
I tell you what. One of you gets The Cancer and loses all your hair, I’ll shave mine off in sympathy. I will! Maybe. Probably. Possibly. Seriously. Or not. Am I too much of a scaredy-cat to do it? Test me! No, don’t. Yes, do! Eek!
I watched Real Housewives of Orange County yesterday afternoon, and damn. That was one EXPENSIVE-looking wedding. Why, with all the money George spent on the damn thing, Lauri could have had more plastic surgery!
Oh, I jest. It was a pretty wedding, even if Lauri’s overcome-with-emotion face and sad face and thrilled face and shocked face are the exact same expression. I feel like her oldest daughter has had some kind of plastic surgery too – those lips aren’t real, are they? But then, when you have a kid whose mother nips and tucks herself into nonexistence practically, what can you expect, right?
Quinn and Creepy Billy broke up? SHOCKER.
Cara needs to either lighten her hair or go back to blond. She’s gone way too dark, it doesn’t look right (and now you’re going to tell me that’s her natural color, right?).
All in all, the episode was kind of eh. It was nice to see Jo again, but I was reminded that she kind of annoys me.
Your thoughts, RHoOC watchers?
Sunday afternoon, Fred was out working on the coop. I was inside puttering around the house, and I had to pee. Usually, no matter where I am in the house, I’ll go to the bathroom across from my bedroom, because it’s just the bathroom where I’m most comfortable. This time, since I was closest to the bathroom in the computer room (and yes, usually even when I’m in the computer room with the bathroom RIGHT THERE, I’ll get up and go to the bathroom across from the bedroom) I went in there. I pulled my pants down, and as I began to sit I thought “Huh. I wonder what time it is?”
There’s not a clock in the bathroom, but there is one on the wall in the computer room near the side doors. So as I began to sat, I leaned way over and looked at the clock on the wall. I heard a distant hollow
bong, then I sat the rest of the way down.
“Only 3:30?” I thought to myself. “The day’s not going by too quickly. I’ve still got plenty of time to (do whatever it was I was planning to do, I don’t remember anymore)!”
And then the source of the distant hollow
bong hit home all of a sudden. My head had hit the edge of the sink, really pretty fucking hard, and it had taken several seconds for my pain receptors to send out the “JESUS CHRIST THAT HURT!” signals.
“OW!” I said, clutching my head. “JESUS CHRIST THAT HURT!” I sat there, moaning and clutching my head until I was done peeing (because I am the ultimate kick-ass multi-tasker) and after a LONG fucking time (at least five minutes) it didn’t hurt quite so much, and I went about my day.
I told Fred about it, and he laughed and laaaaaughed at the idea that I hadn’t just waited ’til I was done peeing to see what time it was. Then he looked at the place on my noggin where I’d hit my head, and declared that it wasn’t black and blue yet.
I woke up Monday morning certain that I’d have a big ol’ badass black and blue mark on my forehead and I could tell people I’d been fighting with THE LAW and they tried to
tase me, bro, but I’d LAUGHED at their tasing attempts –
OH MY GOD. You can get “Don’t tase me, bro!” as a
ring tone! That is EXCELLENT!
Where was I? So yes, I woke up certain that I’d have a big, badass black and blue mark on my head, but I looked in the mirror, and no black and blue mark. AT ALL.
What the fuck? So I whined to Fred about it and he said “You sound like you’re disappointed that you’re not black and blue.” And I said “OF COURSE I am. It hurt so fucking much that I think half my head should be black and blue to show the pain that I endured. And it still hurts!”
Tuesday afternoon I checked again, and it seemed like there was a bit of a black and blue mark, but you had to look at it in the right light, and I made Fred look, and he patronizingly said “Oh yeah! Totally black and blue!”, but he remained unimpressed.
Wednesday afternoon, FINALLY, some proof of the pain I’d endured.
(
flickr)
Still, though, you’d think it’d be darker and nastier looking, since the area is STILL tender. I guess I’m just one of those people who doesn’t bruise easily. Is it weird that I’m disappointed by that?
(Yeah, that was a rhetorical question.)
The Annoying of the Poo, a step-by-step instructional guide.
Step 1: When Miz Poo is settled and comfortable in her favorite cat bed (on The Momma’s desk), jump up on the desk and sit near the cat bed, almost close enough to touch the bed, but not quite.
Step 2: When Miz Poo looks angrily at you, give her a surprised look, like “Oh, I didn’t see you sitting there! How ya doin’? How’s The Momma? Seen any good movies lately? Sniffed any good butts?”
Step 3: When Miz Poo just glares angrily at you instead of making polite chitchat, narrow your eyes at her. Say “Oh, I see we’re not feeling friendly today. Shocker.”
Step 4: Make prolonged eye contact until her ears go back and she starts growling.
Step 5: Studiously look away from Miz Poo, as if you cannot be bothered with her childish games. Quietly say “I’m not touching you. I am not TOUCHING you, you know.”
Step 6: After enough time has passed, the annoyance of your being so close to Miz Poo will overwhelm her, and she will move from quiet growling to outright hissing. Pull your head back and give her an appalled look.
Step 7:Calmly watch as Miz Poo becomes so angry that she cannot stand to be in the same ZIP code, and she stomps off angrily. Sometimes a quick swat to her hindquarters as she stomps off can be a good addition to the game, but it often backfires, as she does not care to have her hindquarters touched and she will turn around like a wildcat and box you about your ears and that always makes The Humans laugh at you because you tend to close your eyes and wave your paws in the air in hopes of making contact. For the purposes of this instructional guide, no swatting of Miz Poo’s hindquarters was attempted.
Step 8: Revel in your victory.
Previously
2007: I’d sell all the kitties into kitty slavery for an iPhone.
2006: “Y’all shut UP. I don’t hear you complaining when you run around FARTING on everyone.”
2005: Letters.
2004: No entry.
2003: I swear, I have no control over my body sometimes.
2002: The shithole on Goddard Street.
2001: Lucky for her I’ve calmed down to a growling grumpiness, or it wouldn’t be a very good time to be the spud.
2000: We’re a pathetic lot, aren’t we?]]>
