Archive for August, 2004


by @ Tuesday, August 31st, 2004. Filed under Life

My Day, In Progress (for August 30th) 4:07 am: I’m awakened by my bladder (the older I get, the more middle-of-the-night trips I have to make to the bathroom). I try to roll over in bed, but Miz Poo is laying on one side of me and Meester Boogers is stretched along the other side of me, effectively pinning me down. I flail and grunt and push, and finally the Booger deigns to move just enough for me to slide my legs around him and slip out of bed. Miz Poo follows me into the bathroom, sniffs at the cat food, decides she’s not hungry, and turns to watch me pee. I head back to bed, squinting at the clock on the VCR as I pass it, to see what time it is. 6:29 am: Meester Boogers lets out two very loud meows, waking me up. Worried that he’s brought a bird, mouse, possum, or other small critter (the possibilities are endless!) into the house and is in the middle of torturing it, I sit up, put on my glasses, and look over toward the cat bed under the table the TV sits on. The Booger likes to bring bugs in when we’re not paying attention, and tear them from limb to limb, leaving many of the pieces in the cat bed. I’ve taken to calling it the Abattoir. Hmmm. The BOOGattoir! But there are no small animals desperately fighting to live, so I lay back down. The Boogattoir. Yes, I clean the insect pieces out of the bed every few days. I’m just relieved he does it in the cat bed and not the Momma bed. 6:29 – 6:42 am: Rub Miz Poo’s belly while listening to Fred in the shower. (No, he’s not singing) 6:42 – 6:45 am: Chat with Fred, then give him a kiss goodbye and roll over to go back to sleep. 7:25 am: The alarm’s set for 7:30, but distant banging wakes me up, and since I’m already awake, I figure I might as well get up. 7:25 – 7:55 am: Get up, get dressed, put in contacts, take vitamin E and thyroid medication, clean the litter box, toss a load of laundry in the washer, grab a pair of socks, and head downstairs. Toss the bag of cat poop, open the blinds on the back of the house, check email. 7:55 am: Get into Jeep to leave (it’s Monday, thus pet store kitties day, whee!). Wave to the Paint Guy, who waves me down. I get out of the Jeep and he says “Do you need me to move my truck?” I say, “No, I think I have enough room.” “I’ve started painting around one of the windows, and I wanted you to check and make sure it’s okay. The paint isn’t quite the same white, it’s a little more yellow.” I look up to where he’s indicated. “See? I’ve painted across the top and down the side?” I look some more, but I’ll be damned if I can see any difference at all. There are people in existence who give a good goddamn about the 87,308 varying shades of white, but I’m not one of them. “Looks good!” I tell Paint Guy, and leave. 7:55 – 8:10 am: Call Fred from the car (yes, I KNOW, but the traffic was barely moving at all, and I’m an excellent driver, so shaddup) to tell him what Paint Guy said. Fred doesn’t care that the paint is a bit different than what’s already on the house, either. I knew there was a reason I love that man. After a few minutes, hang up and drive. Switch radio stations until I find a song I like. The traffic’s bumper-to-bumper, but moving, so it’s not too bad. 8:10 am: I arrive at the pet store at the same time as one of the managers, which means I don’t have to hunt down a manager to open the door to the cat room for me. I hate hunting down a manager and asking them to open the door, because they’re always busy and I feel like I’m bothering them. 8:11 – 9:15 am: Clean cat cages, feed and pet kitties. 9:15 am: Leave the pet store and stop to get gas. Yeah, I get the expensive kind. 9:25 am: Stop at the grocery store to buy all the stuff we’ve run out of since Saturday. 9:45 am: Go to McDonald’s to get a Supah-size Diet Coke. For some reason, the fountain Diet Coke tastes better than the Diet Coke I get from the 2-liter bottle or the cans. When I order the Supah-size Diet Coke, I am informed that they no longer offer Supah-size. Bastards! I order the large (I’m going to die of thirst!), and find that though they don’t offer the Supah-size Diet Coke, the price of a large is the exact same as the now-defunct Supah-size. Bastards! I vow to never darken the McD’s drive-thru again, but even as I’m making the vow, I know I’m a big fat liar. 9:57 am: Arrive home to find Paint Guy cleaning his brushes. He tells me he’s going to leave for the day, because it’s been misting out and the paint isn’t drying very quickly at all, and now gnats have swarmed the part of the trim he did paint, and he’s sure we don’t want bugs in our trim. He points out the part he painted, but I’ll still be damned if I can see the slightest bit of color difference from how it was before. After waving goodbye to him, I pick tomatoes off our tomato plants, which aren’t looking very happy. Yes, they need to be tied up. Our little lemon tree is looking just as happy as it could be, though. The butterfly bush is in serious need of pruning. It smells SO good. 10:15 am: After putting the groceries away and taking a big slug of my ice-cold Diet Coke (mmmm….) I pour a small bowl of Cheerios, dump half a cup or so of blueberries on top, add Splenda and skim milk, and eat breakfast in front of the computer while checking email and catching up on my journal reading. 10:35 am: I decide I can’t put it off any longer, so I put my dishes in the sink and head upstairs to do some cleaning. I toss the laundry in the washer into the dryer, and start a load of towels, then I get out all the cleaning supplies and go into the bathroom, where I spend the next hour cleaning the bathtub, shower, toilet, and sink area. The cats take turn inspecting my work.

“Hmmm, yes. Perhaps a little more scrubbing of the sink is in order.” “This FLOOR is atrocious!” “Ah yes, clean enough to drink out of. Well done!”
This picture, hanging on my bathroom wall, happens to be Jane‘s favorite saying EVER.
When I’m done cleaning the bathroom, I move the tray holding the water and cat food dishes out into the bedroom so I can vacuum in the bathroom. The cats, fascinated by the location change of their food, take turns checking to see if the food tastes the same in the bedroom as it does in the bathroom.
Apparently it’s nothing to write home about. I empty the trashcan that goes in the bathroom, and leave it on the bed for a moment. And a moment is all the Booger needs to knock it over and claim it for his very own Stump Cave.
11:45 am: Done cleaning and vacuuming the bathroom, I dust my bedroom, Fred’s bedroom, and the few pieces of furniture in the hallway. The Booger keeps a wary eye on the vacuum cleaner.
When I grab the vacuum, he high-tails it downstairs and stays there while I vacuum the entire upstairs. The other cats join him. 12:20 pm: With the cleaning done, it’s time to take a shower. I turn on the shower and step inside. 12:45 pm: My hair is dry – at least the front part is – and I settle into the chair in the corner of the bedroom to read for a little while. Meester Boogers decides to keep me company.
Uh, no. He actually isn’t sitting on my head. I probably wouldn’t look quite so cheery if he was.
1:23 pm: I finish the book I started yesterday (Killer Smile, by Lisa Scottoline. I love her!), get dressed, and start to head downstairs. Then I remember that I have laundry to fold, and I reverse directions. I toss the clean clothes on the bed, put the towels from the washer to the dryer, and put another load of clothes into the washer. The Booger inspects my work. That, or snoozes. It’s hard to tell the difference.
1:35 pm: I sit down in front of the computer and start working on an entry.
In between reading Nance‘s entry and checking Jane‘s guestbook (no fighting going on today, damnit!) and checking Mo‘s blog, I write an entry. 2:05 pm: Post the entry and go make lunch. 2:15 pm: Consume lunch:
Lunch is a huge-ass salad consisting of half a bag of Spring Mix salad, several cherry tomatoes, half a cucumber, a couple of sliced radishes, and half a baked boneless, skinless chicken breast half, cubed. Drizzled on top is 2 T. of Kraft Light Done Right 3-Cheese Ranch dressing. Aside from the salad is a container of white chocolate and raspberry yogurt, and a cup of Diet Coke. Yum! 2:35 – 3:00 pm: Catch up on journal and blog reading, check email, do random surfing, give Miz Poo belly rubs. 3:00 – 3:25 pm: Slice 1 pound of steak into small pieces so I don’t have to do it later when it’s time to make dinner. Also, chop up two scallions.
Stick cut-up steak and scallions in separate bowls, and then put them in the refrigerator. Clean the top of the stove and wipe down the counters while listening to Dr. Phil’s show. 3:25 pm: Fred arrives home. Follow him upstairs to lay down and talk about our respective days. 3:40 pm: Fold some laundry, then go downstairs and ask the spud about HER day (she made blueberry muffins in Home Ec. (or whatever the fuck they’re calling it) and they sucked). 3:45 – 4:00 pm: Sit in front of the computer and surf. 4:00 pm: Put a pot of rice on to cook. Peel carrots, chop them up, and put them in a pot of water. Add a chopped-up onion. Put the pot on the stove, then go back to the computer for more surfing. 4:10 – 4:35 pm: Sit in front of the computer and surf. 4:35 – 5:00 pm: Make dinner. 5:00 – 5:20 pm: Consume dinner, while chatting with Fred and the spud.
Dinner is General Tsao’s Chicken – substituting steak for chicken – on rice, and carrots and onions. It is MIGHTY fucking fine. 5:20 – 5:30 pm: Lay down and chat about various and sundry (though not Sundry) things with Fred. 5:30 pm: Fold towels and put them away. Hang bras up to dry in the closet. 5:40 – 7:00 pm: Sit in front of the computer, put up Pet Store Kitties entry, make Fred look at picture of the Booger, talk to the Booger, snuggle with Miz Poo, watch Spanky watching the birds out the window, check mail, read Jane‘s entry, catch up on more journal reading, update my weight-lifting schedule for this week (I change up my routine every two weeks to keep things FRESH and EXCITING), look at TVGuide to see what’s coming on this week, and make notes (shut UP), watch the hummingbirds out the front window, surf, waste time, be a slacker. 7:00 – 7:18 pm: Fred’s in the middle of something on his computer, so I turn the TV in the living room on, then pause The Complex: Malibu so we won’t miss a single magical moment of it. I go through the list of shows we want to watch this week, and set the DVR to tape the ones we want to tape. Why does everything good come on on Tuesday night, and nothing good at ALL comes on on Thursday or Friday? 7:18 – 7:22 pm: I nag Fred until he decides he’s done with what he was doing, and he goes to make his evening snack. 7:22 – 7:30 pm: Check email and do some mindless surfing while Fred makes his snack. 7:30 – 9:00 pm: Make my evening snack (a small bowl of bran flakes and raisins with Splenda and skim milk) and settle in with Fred to watch The Complex, which we enjoy, because except for the gay guys, everyone’s annoying as hell. Annoying in an entertaining way, that is. 9:00 – 9:05 pm: Check my email one last time, and check out Nance and Jane’s answers to the current Smart & Sassy questions. 9:05 pm: Fred comes back downstairs (he always goes upstairs a few minutes before me) and asks if I’ve seen the Booger. I haven’t seen him in an hour or so, and he’s ALWAYS inside at bedtime (how else would he get his tasty Kitten Chow treats?). Fred’s checked everywhere in the house for him, and he’s nowhere to be seen. We head out into the backyard and call for him, Fred shaking the Kitten Chow box. No Booger. Fred goes one way and I go the other. Fred finds that one of the gates is standing open, and we both freak out a little bit. We go into the front yard and I call for Meester Boogers, while Fred shakes the Kitten Chow box. We’re just starting to wonder whether we need to fan out into the neighborhood (can two people fan?), when the Booger comes running at high speed from the next-door neighbor’s yard. He hides under the Jeep until he realizes he’s not in trouble, and then he comes out and rubs on Fred’s legs. Fred picks him up, and we go inside. 9:20 – 9:40 pm: I get ready for bed – take out my contacts, take a vitamin E pill and my birth control pill, wash my face, brush my teeth, and put on my nightgown. I settle down in bed next to Fred to read, when we hear the sounds of Meester Boogers outside, howling. We both go downstairs and open the back door to see him flopped over on his side, enjoying the night. Apparently he just wanted to howl for no reason at all. We bring him inside and go back upstairs. Two minutes later, he starts howling from outside again. I wonder aloud whether he’s wishing he’d had a longer adventure, and then point out that it would suck if he figured out how to jump the fence the way Mr. Fancypants did. Fred admits that he would be bereft and incosolable if that were to happen, because he and Meester Boogers are soulmates. I suggest bringing the Booger inside and shutting the cat door for the night, and doing that every night from now on, like we used to. Fred asks if I’d mind going down to get the Booger and shutting the cat door. I don’t mind, so I go do it. Naturally the moment I step outside to get the Booger, Miz Poo shoots outside and won’t come back in with me. I carry the Booger inside, set him down, shut the cat door, then go back out to get Miz Poo. After a little chasing, I catch her, and she chirrups worriedly until I set her down and shut the door. I get about two minutes to read and then it’s time to turn the lights off. 9:40 – 10:03 pm: Fred and I lay in bed, snuggle, and talk. 10:03 – 11:17 pm: Fred goes to bed, and I settle in to read for a while. I’ve only read half a page when the phone rings. It’s my friend Liz, so I answer. We talk for about half an hour about a bunch of different things – she might come visit in November – and then we hang up. I read about ten pages in my book before I decide it’s time to go to sleep. I make one last trip to the bathroom, stopping on the way back to bed to pet the Booger, Spanky, and Spot, and then settle in for the night. 11:18 pm: Lights out.]]>


by @ Monday, August 30th, 2004. Filed under Life

Jack Bauer was saying. I got up, got dressed, trudged over to Fred’s bedroom, and tried to take a nap there. Fred’s bedroom is the furthest room in the house from the living room, and so I was sure I wouldn’t be able to hear the TV from there. Wrooooooooong. I had just started to doze off when Teri Bauer shrieked about something, and I sat up and growled that I hated the layout of this house, and I put my clothes back on, and went downstairs and sat in front of the computer and tried to surf. Except that I COULD NOT CONCENTRATE, because every word that every character on 24 was saying, was being drilled through my eardrums and directly into my brain. There was NOWHERE in the house to get AWAY from the sound of that FUCKING television set, and so I threw a temper tantrum. I stomped through the kitchen, grabbed my purse (which was sitting by the door), shot Fred a burning look of hatred, and slammed out into the garage. I was digging my shoes out from under the Preacher Curl/ Pushdown bench when Fred came out and gave me a curious look. “Where are you going?” he asked. “SOMEWHERE WHERE I CAN GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THE SOUND OF THAT TELEVISION!” I bellowed. “Shhhh,” Fred said, since the garage door was open and he didn’t want the neighbors to know our bidness. “I CAN’T GET AWAY FROM THE SOUND OF THAT TELEVISION!” I bellowed, slid my feet into my sandals, and stomped toward the Jeep. “Well, it’ll be over in 15 minutes,” Fred said, sounding as if he might be amused. I didn’t look back to see if he actually WAS amused, because then I would have had to kick him REALLY HARD. “IT’LL NEVER BE OVER!” I bellowed, got into the Jeep, and left. (Yeah, I’m not sure what that was supposed to mean, either.) I drove off with the intention of driving to Tennessee to buy a lottery ticket so that when we won millions of dollars, we could build a house wherein the living room and master bedroom were NOWHERE near each other. But I didn’t want to drive that far, so I basically did a big loop and ended up home about 40 minutes after I left, a lot calmer. I know. He’s a saint, isn’t he?

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My favorite t-shirt from Hawaii (I bought this one for myself) Another of my favorites.
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I informed Fred yesterday that I’d already decided what my resolution for 2005 was going to be. (Shaddup, I know 2005 is months away) See that bookcase up there? Those are all the books I own, but haven’t yet read. I counted, and there are about 40 books on the top shelf, and the top 4 shelves are packed, so we can guesstimate that there are 160+ books on that bookcase. Now, that’s just ridiculous. Especially since I can walk into a bookstore or surf around Amazon and easily walk out (or check out) with 10 or more books that I want to read. So my resolution for 2005 is not to buy any new books, EXCEPT the books that my favorite authors put out (I’ll have to put a list together of the authors I consider my favorites). Anything else I want to read, I’ll put on my Amazon wish list, and by the time I’m ready to buy more books, no doubt half my list would have gone to paperback. The tough part is going to be sticking to that particular resolution! And maybe I’ll actually get that copy of Monica’s Story that I bought back in 1999 read!
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Several people have asked what episode of Penn & Teller’s Bullshit! we were on. It was episode number 13 on (I think) disc 4, and the name of the episode is “Eat This!”, I believe.
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“I see dead people.” (Picture taken by Fred)]]>


by @ Friday, August 27th, 2004. Filed under Life

* * * I opted to skip exercising yesterday, and as a result felt cranky and bitchy all day long. (More cranky and more bitchy, I guess I should say) I had thought about just waiting until Fred got home to exercise – that way Fred could be available if the paint guy needed a window opened or to answer a question – but ’round about noon I decided I felt so crappy and dirty that I had to have a shower RIGHT THAT SECOND, so I went and took a shower, and I COULDN’T exercise after I’d already taken a shower, right? RIGHT? Gah. Skipping exercise for one day won’t kill me… But it does make me mighty cranky. Before I got around to showering, Fred’s father and stepmother showed up. The guy who’s painting the window sills and trim did their house several weeks ago, which is how we got his name. They were dropping off lawn furniture for him to paint (he’s a very handy man, he is), and I had to go outside in my stinky exercise clothes, with my nasty, unshaved legs showing, and make conversation with his stepmother while his father loaded the lawn furniture into the paint guy’s truck. I don’t think anyone noticed my hairy legs – I’m lucky enough that the hair on my arms and legs is blond, thus less noticeable than it COULD be – but if they did, they were nice enough not to mention it. Stinky clothes, unshowered, hairy legs. I am SO SEXY.

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Yesterday morning after I uploaded my entry, I went to the bottom of the stairs to grab the vacuum cleaner so I could vacuum the entire downstairs. (The vacuum cleaner doesn’t really have a permanent home. Usually it either sits at the top of the stairs waiting to go downstairs, or the bottom of the stairs waiting to go upstairs. Have I mentioned that I LOVE MY VACUUM CLEANER? Because oh YES I do.) I glanced up the stairs, to see Meester Boogers on the top step, eyes dark, huddled up against the wall. “Hey, little man!” I greeted him, and he stared down at me and huddled even closer to the wall. “What’s the matter, buddy?” I went up the stairs, and he watched me make the climb. I reached down to pet him, and he just looked up at me, eyes dark. I was starting to get a little worried, so I picked him up to check him over. Which is when he hid his face in my neck. Now Meester Boogers, while being friendly enough if you pick him up, has never to my recollection hidden his face in my neck. If you pick him up to pet him, he’ll purr and enjoy being petted, but will only put up with it for a short while before asking to be put down. I decided to take him into the extra bedroom (he really likes hanging out in there) and put him on the bed so I could check to be sure he hadn’t hurt himself. As I walked toward the bedroom, he LOST HIS SHIT, and started kicking and flailing. “What the-?” I said, and watched him as he ran down the stairs. I looked in the extra bedroom, and realized what the problem was. The paint guy was on his ladder outside the window, putting primer on the window sill. I think our cats are as antisocial as we are.
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Everyone in Jane’s guest book seems to think we should have a Sassy Con. I’ll go, but only if everyone’s required to curtsy and call me “Your Majesty.”
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Paint Guy is actually way more than just a paint guy. He’s an all-around handyman, it would appear. Fred told his father that he was tired of our driveway looking all nasty, because water tends to sit on the top part of the driveway and after a while, mold and mildew shows up. Fred’s father said something to Paint Guy, and Paint Guy told Fred that he could clean the driveway using his… thing. You know, the thing? That makes water shoot out really hard? That I cannot think of the name? Yeah, that thing. Anyway, he told Fred he could clean the driveway, and Fred accepted the offer, and so Paint Guy’s been cleaning the driveway for the better part of the morning, and it looks AMAZING. It’s stunning how clean he’s getting the driveway and sidewalk. We were laying bed talking last night, and Fred thought of another thing Paint Guy might be able to do for us, inside the house, maybe later when the weather gets cold and his work slows down. This guy seems to be busy all the time, and he doesn’t advertise at all – it’s all just through word of mouth. He painted Fred’s father’s house, did some work for Fred’s sister, now he’s doing work for us, and one of Fred’s business partners has work for him to do. Aside from all that, just through word of mouth, he has four houses lined up to paint when he’s done with ours. He’s a nice guy, very polite (anytime he asked me something yesterday, he apologized for interrupting me; and he won’t park in the driveway because his truck leaks oil), he works hard, he does an excellent job, and we’re paying him less than we’d pay someone from a big company – which works out well for him, because he gets to keep all the money he makes. The American Dream in action, baby.
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by @ Thursday, August 26th, 2004. Filed under Life

* * * After doing some looking around online, I’m 99.99% sure that the hummingbirds who are visiting the feeder outside the computer room window are ruby-throated hummingbirds. Yesterday, there were two males and a female out there, and the two males were apparently trying to kick each others’ asses in hopes of winning the heart of the female. While the males went at it, the female sat on the feeder and ate, while watching them. She looked like she was watching a tennis match. Hummingbirds sure are cute, aren’t they?

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The paint guy finished cleaning the window sills and trim around 11:30 yesterday, and left. I assumed he’d gone to lunch, and I said to myself, “Self, get your ass out into the garage and exercise; if he needs you, he’ll probably be tipped off to the fact that you’re in the garage by the sound of the television and he can come knock on the garage door or something. So I was flailing away on the elliptical trainer when I heard the sound of a truck door opening and closing, and I thought “Oh, I guess he’s back.” But then three or four minutes later I heard the same truck door opening and closing, and I heard the truck drive off, so I looked out the window to see him leaving. Turns out he’d finished with the cleaning and since it was raining he couldn’t put the primer on the window sills and trim, so he was done for the day. This morning he got here at SEVEN and went around and did some more cleaning. Now he’s gone to the paint store to get paint thinner, and then I guess he’s going to prime the trim and window sills. I can’t decide whether to go ahead and exercise, or wait. The lazy angel on my shoulder is voting that I wait. Like, until tomorrow. I might let her win this one, because I SO don’t want to be doing deadlifts and have him pop open the window so he can prime the window sills thus bearing unfortunate witness to the red-faced, sweaty, scary-looking person I become when I do lower body weights. I do have to get some housework done, though. Specifically, vacuuming. And cleaning the kitchen. I sure do hate the hell out of housework.
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From my comments: SO have you watched Growing up Gotti yet? I have! I watched last week’s episode, where they went to Miami. It absolutely cracked me up, because those boys are total troublemakers, and she doesn’t put up with it at ALL. I’m definitely going to keep watching it. And about the toes. Totally sucks but aren’t all the toes the “piggy”? Have you seen Ethan lately? He looks so emaciated, it doesn’t help him out at all. I have never thought Uma Thurman was beautiful either. Yeah, they’re all the piggies – what I meant to say was my PINKY toe, of course. But you knew which one I meant anyway, didn’t you? I have to agree on the Uma Thurman thing – I never quite understood the attraction. In The Truth About Cats & Dogs, when Uma was supposed to be the gorgeous model and Janeane Garofalo was supposed to be the dumpy, ugly one, I always thought it was a ridiculous concept, because Janeane is clearly WAY better looking than Uma. I guess I don’t get a lot of the women Hollywood holds up as the perfect ideal, lookswise, because when she was younger, I did NOT get the Michelle Pfeiffer love – I thought she was funny looking, and I didn’t understand why people went on and ON about how beautiful she was. Oddly, as she gets older (or maybe it’s as *I* get older), I’m starting to think that she’s very pretty. Ah well – different strokes for different folks, eh? Two words for you……KIEFER SUTHERLAND. I read your post about Taking Lives with baited breath, hoping to get something (a crumb, perhaps?) of information about my beloved Kiefer and how others possibly share my lust for him. It was not to be………… You know, I would have mentioned Kiefer, but I don’t think he had even five minutes of screen time. It was ridiculous! We do love the Kief, that’s for sure. At one point in the movie, we were shown what was supposed to be a sketch of Kiefer, but as Fred pointed out, “That looks more like Donald Sutherland than Kiefer Sutherland!” I’m going to maine Sept. 10th , Portland and boothbay Harbor. Can you recommend any “must see” places ? If you’re going to be in Portland, I highly recommend a cruise on Casco Bay Lines – specifically the Bailey Island cruise. I’ve always wanted to try the Sunset cruise, too. You might want to check out the Portland Head Light while you’re in the area. Also, it’s south of Portland, but you might want to visit Old Orchard Beach. Those are the only Portland suggestions that come to mind, but there’s a whole list of stuff you can check out, here. If you’re headed for Boothbay Harbor, stop at The Seabasket in Wiscasset on your way – BEST SEAFOOD EVER, I promise! I’ve only been to Boothbay Harbor a few times, and when I’ve been, it’s just to shop and have lunch and enjoy the view. Boothbay Harbor is absolutely beautiful, and I have a little fantasy wherein Fred will actually cross the Mason-Dixon line and we can move to Boothbay Harbor (but somehow, I think that’s unlikely). Anyway, there’s a list of stuff to do in Boothbay Harbor, here. I think it’d be cool to do a Windjammer cruise, personally. Robyn… are YOU smitten with a kitten???? I am ALWAYS smitten with kittens. One of these days I’m going to snap, and Fred’s going to come home to find that I’ve adopted every kitten at the pet store. Whoohoo! You and Fred are celebrities once again! I am not familiar with the show but I will be sure to check it out at my rental store. I read the description of the DVD and I am wondering how they fit you and Fred into this show? I KNOW they aren’t making fun of our And3rsons!?!?!?!?!? (where is my can of whoopass?) and Umm you are on Penn & Teller???? Yeah, almost two years ago Fred and I were interviewed to be part of an episode of the first season of Penn & Teller: Bullshit. The show was about fad diets, and Fred and I were the “experts”, in that we had lost weight without using a fad diet. They didn’t make fun of us at all, though I felt like a complete idiot during the entire filming. You can read more about the experience starting here. Fred wrote an entry about us actually watching the show, here.
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I love the look of sheer hatred on Spanky’s face as he glares at Meester Boogers’ stumpy little tail. Is it just me, or does Meester Boogers look like he’s trying to nurse?]]>


by @ Wednesday, August 25th, 2004. Filed under Life

* * * People, please please PLEASE help me. I’ve signed up over at mblog in hopes of getting my Couch Potato blog set up and running, but I CANNOT FOR THE LIFE OF ME figure out how to make it so that my categories show up, not only under each entry, but also in my sidebar. I’ve looked and looked at the help stuff, but IT IS GEEK GREEK TO ME and it makes no sense to me at ALL. Please, for the love of god, won’t someone out there send me a step-by-step list of how in the holy hell I can make the categories show up? PLEASE, I’m begging you, HELP ME. Also, your best bet is to imagine me as a very slow 7 year-old when typing out instructions. PLEASE. Never mind! I did a Google search on “Movable Type for dummies”, and found the BEST SITE EVER. Excellent for people who don’t speak Geek. Woot! (Hopefully the Tater will be up and running by the beginning of next week. It depends on how long it takes me to figure out how I want it to look!)

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I’ll be kind of stuck at home for the forseeable future, it seems. We have a guy here who’ll be painting the outside of our house – not the bricks, but the trim around the house, because we’ve been here for three years and the paint is starting to peel. The guy comes highly recommended by Fred’s father. He was supposed to show up at 8 this morning, and he showed up 10 minutes early, so I guess we’re off to a good start. He works ten hours a day, only takes a couple of 10 minute breaks during the day, and does an excellent job. He estimates that it’ll take about a week and a half to get it all done. Ugh. He seems like a really nice guy, but I haaaaaaaaaate having to deal with strangers. Fred’s father reports that the guy never asked to use the bathroom, though. Which is aces with me. Not that I’m against letting him use our bathroom if he needs to or anything, but I do have a bad experience with a guy leaving a nasty stank in our bathroom, and I think it’s scarred me for life. We had to go around the house yesterday and remove all the screens. My GOD do our windowsills need some serious cleaning – I don’t know the last time I went around and cleaned them (my guess is “never”), but it seriously needs to be done. I went around and dusted them before the guy got here, but they need more than dusting – they need actual cleaning with a wet rag. I don’t even want to talk about the blinds; they’re disgusting and are an inch thick with the kind of dirt that won’t come off with the swipe of a rag. They’re going to need to be soaked. I think once the guy’s done on the outside of the house I’m going to have to take some time to clean the windowsills and blinds. I didn’t even have time to exercise this morning before he showed up, which means I’ll be doing that this afternoon once Fred gets home from work.
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That’s not actually a look o’ love Spanky’s giving Meester Boogers, is it?]]>


by @ Tuesday, August 24th, 2004. Filed under Life

“Hotlinking” (also called “hot linking”, “leeching”, and “bandwidth theft”) is a term referring to when a web page of one website owner is direct linking to the images or other multimedia files on the web host of another website owner (usually without permission, thus stealing bandwidth). This not only causes the other person to pay for the bandwidth of the hotlinked file, but often is intellectual property theft. On my GFY page, on the rules and instructions page, it says very clearly the following: DO NOT link directly to the images on my server; that uses up my bandwidth and really pisses me off. Save the image to your own server or use a text link. If you don’t know how to do either of those, do a Google search and figure it out. I’m not your Momma. Imagine, then, my surprise when I looked at the “latest visitors” stats page provided by my control panel and found that hundreds of people were hotlinking images stored on my server. Imagine how surprised and pissed I was. Now, if you’re one of the people who was hotlinking images on my server, imagine your shock and surprise when you look at your site and instead of seeing, say, this image: you see the image my very creative, awesome, and funny husband made (you know – the husband who’s a geek, so he knows what the hell he’s doing): Anyone hotlinking to any images on my site will be seeing the cat’s ass instead of what they meant to link from now on. Don’t hotlink my images, asshole. As a special bonus, if you’re surfing around using Anonymizer or something similar, all you’re seeing where pictures should be are cat’s assholes. Sorry about that – but if we can’t see that the referring url is a page in bitchypoo.com, we have to assume that it’s someone hotlinking. I don’t know if you can log out of Anonymizer (or whatever) and come back in, but that might be the way for you to go. (Hopefully you can still see the pictures I put up in my entries, though, since they’re hosted elsewhere.)

* * *
After posting my entry and taking my shower yesterday, I got dressed and headed out to the grocery store to pick up the groceries we’d run out of since Fred got groceries Saturday morning. When I got home, I put away what I bought, and went back out to my Jeep to bring in the bird seed and Kitten Chow I’d bought at Target earlier. (The Kitten Chow is what we give Meester Boogers, Miz Poo, and Spanky as a snack each night. They go crazy for it. And a bag of Kitten Chow is way cheaper than the tiny little pouches of cat treats you can buy.) I looked out the back window to see if the bird feeders needed to be filled – of course they did, they ALWAYS need to be filled – and went into the garage to get my shoes. I was walking across the kitchen toward the back door when I heard a distant squealing sound. I stopped and listened, wondering if one of the cats was barfing up a hairball. Spanky stared toward the computer room/ library side of the house, and I heard the tell-tale sign of the cat door opening and slapping shut. The squealing sound got louder. “Oh fuck!” I yelled, kicking off my shoes and running toward the cat door. As I reached the hallway that leads from the kitchen to the front door, Meester Boogers came into view, and in his jaws he held a young cardinal, who was squealing just like a little piggy. SqueeSqueeSQUEESQUEE! the bird squealed. “YOU FUCKER, PUT HIM DOWN! PUT HIM DOWN!” I bellowed at Meester Boogers, who took one look at me and hauled ass up the stairs. “GODDAMNIT, YOU LITTLE SHITHEAD, PUT HIM DOWN!” I raced up the stairs directly behind Meester Boogers and the squealing cardinal. Once at the top of the stairs, Meester Boogers ran into my bedroom and turned to look at me. “YOU LET HIM GO! LET HIM GO, YOU STUMPY LITTLE FUCKER!” I yelled, running at him, waving my arms wildly in the air. Meester Boogers let the squealing cardinal go, whereupon the bird flew up into the air, tried to land on the trey ceiling on one side of the room, bounced off the ceiling, and then flew to the other side of the room to attempt a landing on the trey ceiling there. Meester Boogers jumped up on the bed and tracked the bird, once jumping up a few inches and flailing his front paws in the air. “You BETTER NOT!” I warned him. There was a bookcase near where the bird was, and I hoped like hell he’d land on top of it so I could grab Meester Boogers, toss him out of the room, and try to figure out how to catch the bird. The bird found he couldn’t land on the trey ceiling on that side of the room either, looked down at Meester Boogers, let out a warning squawk, and then flew into the window. Stunned, he landed on the floor, and Meester Boogers jumped off the bed and ran over. “GET YOUR ASS AWAY FROM HIM!” I yelled in my deep, scary Mean Momma voice. He looked up at me, decided I was serious, and jumped from the floor to the top of the chair so he could supervise. “It’s okay,” I said to the bird in the comforting I won’t hurt you voice I use with the cats at the pet store. Squealie the Bird didn’t seem comforted. I reached down and picked him up gently, whereupon he began squealing again. From his position atop the chair, Meester Boogers reached out a paw to smack at the bird, but his arm wasn’t long enough. “It’s okayyyyy,” I crooned to the bird, who repayed my kindness by sinking his beak into the tender area between my thumb and forefinger. THOSE FUCKERS BITE MIGHTY FUCKING HARD, LET ME TELL YOU. “OWWW!” I shrieked. “GODDAMN that hurts!” I pulled my hand away from the bird, and when his neck could stretch no further, he let go of my skin. I repositioned my hand so that it was right under his neck, so he couldn’t bite me again, and I headed for the door. Meester Bastard Boogers followed me as I went down the stairs with the squealing bird and opened the back door. As soon as the back door was open I held open my hand, and the bird flew off across the yard into the tree. “Well, I hope he’s okay, you stumpy little bastard,” I said to Meester Boogers. “That was bad. I know it’s instinct and all that shit, but that was still bad.” “Mrrr!” Meester Boogers grunted. He looked up at me with wide eyes. To his chin was stuck a small feather. He’s a stumpy little bastard, but he sure is cute. Good thing for him, I guess.
* * *
It’s that time again. Yes, yes it is… I’m tired of my ‘do and want to do something different. I’m thinking of growing it out and styling it like Renee‘s (that’s Renee of Renee and Patrick, the first couple on Things I Hate About You!). I can’t decide, though. I’m about three weeks past due to have my hair colored and need to make an appointment, I guess. I promise you, if I could find a clipper set with a 2-inch attachment, I’d just shave it all off. I would! (We actually have a clipper set with a 1-inch attachment, but I don’t want to go quite that short) Hmm. That’s an idea for a fund-raiser – I could try to raise money for the cat shelter I volunteer for, and if I make my goal by a certain date, I’d shave my hair to 2 inches long. I wonder if anyone would go for that?
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by @ Monday, August 23rd, 2004. Filed under Life

* * * We were watching Taking Lives last night, and Ethan Hawke came onto the screen. We always mock Ethan Hawke when we see him, because of the award shows we’ve seen him on wherein they introduce him as “Actor and Novelist Ethan Hawke”, because hello? How pretentious is THAT? You KNOW he’s got it written into his contract (do they have to sign a contract to appear on an awards show?) that they have to introduce him that way. “Oh look,” I said when Ethan Hawke appeared on the screen. “It’s actor and novelist Ethan Hawke!” “Actor, novelist, and philanderer Ethan Hawke,” Fred corrected. A minute later, as Ethan Hawke’s character was sketching a picture, I said “Oh, is he supposed to be an artist too?” When the sketch was finished – and a pretty good one, at that – Fred said “Actor, novelist, philanderer and ARTIST Ethan Hawke!” Ten minutes later, when Ethan Hawke was charming the pants off of Angelina Jolie’s character, Fred ammended the title. “Actor, novelist, philanderer, artist, and LADY’S MAN Ethan Hawke!” Which for some reason struck my funny bone, and I laughed until I cried. That Fred, he’s a funny bastard. Taking Lives is not great cinema, but it wasn’t horrible, either. It had a nice little twist – two of them, actually – at the end, but too bad we figured both of them out before they were revealed. Do Canadian police often ask for help from FBI profilers? That seems odd to me – I would think that Canada would have their own version of the FBI and their own profilers. Anyone know? The oddest thing about this DVD is that it actually has a gag reel on it. It’s very unusual to see a gag reel on a suspense/ thriller type movie – you almost always see them on the comedies. I watched the gag reel this morning and it’s nothing to write home about, nothing terribly funny, but that Angelina Jolie sure is a giggler, isn’t she? Speaking of Angelina Jolie, Fred LURRRRRRRVED her in Hackers, but thinks she’s gotten weird-looking since. I’m kind of the same way with Ethan Hawke – I loved and adored him in Dead Poets Society, but hasn’t really done anything for me in any of his movies since. I’m sure he’d be heartbroken to know that.

* * *
When I was in Maine last December, I did a lot – A LOT – of shopping. One of the things I bought a lot of was bath bombs at Crabtree & Evelyn. Not only is there a Crabtree & Evelyn in Freeport, but there’s also one in the Maine Mall in Portland. I stopped in both those stores to check out the after-Christmas sales, and I ended up buying a TON of bath bombs in the “water” scent. They were marked down from some ridiculous price (maybe $7 each?) to $1.30 each. I love bath fizzies and when I find a bargain like that I’ll stock up. I used up the last bath bomb last night, and I guess I never realized before just how strong the scent is in those bath bombs. I woke up this morning and the scent was really strong on my nightgown, but even when I got dressed, I could still smell it. I haven’t taken a shower yet, and I feel like I have a fragrance force-field that reaches to ten feet in every direction. People probably think I’m one of those obnoxious women who sprays half a bottle of perfume on herself every day. But I’m not! I swear! One little squirt o’ perfume in the area of my cleavage is all I use. No wonder it takes me forever to use up a tiny little bottle of perfume.
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Speaking of scents and all that, you know what the best smell in the world is? Lemon. Fred uses fresh-squeezed lemon in his iced tea, and I always want to stick my nose in his tea and sniff wildly the way the cats do. I was about to say “I wish they made lemon-scented perfume”, but I thought for a moment, and then I went to my email and found the link to Demeter that wonderful reader Wendy sent me, and I looked, and voila! Pink lemonade cologne spray. Woot!
* * *
Pet store kitty pics are hither.
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I don’t believe I’ve mentioned that Spanky loves to sit in the sun, have I? ]]>


by @ Friday, August 20th, 2004. Filed under Life

Happy 13th birthday, Brian!

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The city of Madison is apparently in the midst of a social experiment. “What,” they wondered, “Would happen if we started work on a road, abandoned it for three weeks, and then started working on it again with a vengeance? Working from 6 am to 6 pm every day. Oh! And what if we had big, heavy equipment that did nothing but back up, making that eardrum-shattering “I’m backing up!” sound big equipment makes? What if we did this directly outside the bedroom of Robyn And3rson? How long would it take her to snap? Oh! And what if, once we’ve stopped work at 6 pm, we give her a few hours to be lulled into a false sense of security, and THEN we move about 1/4 mile down the road and start digging up road, so that she can juuuuust hear us digging when she’s trying to go to sleep? Oooh, fun!” And then the people at City Hall all placed their “When will Robyn And3rson snap?” bets, ranging from twenty minutes to three days. They don’t know that years of being on the receiving end of a yammerer, starting at a very early age, has made me into a person who can tune things out at the drop of a hat, and keep them tuned out for hours and hours and hours. But even I have my limits. Here, watch this 12-second video clip I made JUST FOR YOU and feel the magic of being in my home! This is what I’ve been hearing 12 hours a day for the last three days. Make sure you turn your sound WAY up, to get the full effect. I’m about to snap, I can feel it… I’m curious, though. I don’t understand how on earth they’re getting ANY work done if they’re doing nothing but driving in reverse. Fuckers.
* * *
One of the many things I love about my husband is how excited he gets when he’s writing a program. We were laying in the bed the other night and he started telling me about a software program he’s been writing (not for work – for fun! The man writes software just for the fun of it!)(it’s an FTP client, he says. He’s thinking of releasing it as freeware or shareware when he’s done with it) and he gestured so largely and flailed his arms around so vigorously that by the time he was done I was beginning to feel vaguely seasick. He loves to get into the details of the components of the software he’s working on, and he calls each piece “he.” As in, “blah blah blah and then he goes over here, and then blah blah blah.” Hearing him refer to pieces of software as “he” always makes me smile. (He just told me he was talking about recursing a remote directory tree. Well, DUH.) It’s pretty cool to see someone get that excited about the work he’s doing, even if it’s just for fun. When software can get him that hot and bothered (intellectually speaking), I guess he’s in the right line of work.
* * *
Reading about the assmonkey Angel had to deal with recently (grrr!) reminded me of the problem – “problem”, I should say – we had with our DVR a few months ago. All of a sudden, after a certain period of nonusage, around four hours, the DVR/ cable box would turn itself off. This wouldn’t be a problem, except that the VCR was plugged into the DVR (are these initials giving you a headache, too?) and every time the DVR turned itself off, the VCR lost power, and so we’d have to reset the clock on the VCR every time we sat down to watch TV. We decided it was a glitch in the DVR/ Cable box, and a call to the cable company didn’t make us think any differently, since the service rep. didn’t know why it was turning off either, so she made an appointment for the cable guy to come out a few days later. When the cable guy showed up (he was actually the one who’d brought out our DVR in the first place), I took him into the living room, showed him the DVR, and told him the problem. “So it just shuts itself off after a few hours of inactivity?” he repeated once I’d finished talking. “Yeah,” I said. “Well, that’s what it’s supposed to do,” he said, and then gave me a Not too swift, are ya? look. “Oh,” I said. “I didn’t know that.” “Yeah, it shuts off because it’s a computer and it’s better not to have it going 24/7.” “Oh.” “Yeah.” “Well, thanks for coming out!” “No problem.” With “dumbass” implied in the words. “I hope the rest of my calls for the day are this easy!” Heh. (We solved the VCR issue by plugging it into the wall instead of the DVR. Voila!)
* * *
Every time I see the word “smitten” (I just saw it here), I think of Phoebe saying to Monica “you are so much the smitten kitten!” on Friends. I just felt you should be aware of that. Just in case. Make a note, mm’kay?
* * *
Speaking of DVRs and TV and such, I finally got around to setting the DVR to record Airline and Growing up Gotti. Yay! And speaking of the Gottis, maybe someone can help me out here. I bought the most recent copy of Star Magazine (um, shut up. I HAD to see the picture of Demi Moore that had her so horrified about her knees that she wants to have them lifted. And, having seen the picture of said knees, I have this to say “Shut up, you stupid, vapid bitch. If you’re going to throw $15,000 away on plastic surgery for your KNEES, I’m going to have to put out a contract on your empty little head. Good fucking god, what the hell kind of example are you setting for those oddly-named children of yours? Is this why you and Bruce are divorced, because you felt the need to stupid shit like this? God LORD. Also, can you give me the name of your plastic surgeon? Because he’s REALLY FUCKING GOOD. Except for your boobs, I’d never know you’d had plastic surgery, except for the good people at Star, who were kind enough to list everything you’ve had done.) Anyway, the Gottis. One of the (12 year-old) Star reporters went to Victoria Gotti’s house and something in the ensuing article pointed up the fact that her sons all go by the last name of Gotti also. Since Gotti is her maiden name, are the boys just using Gotti for the recognition factor, because it makes them look cool, or what? Never mind, I think I just answered my own question. What a lame thing for me to be curious about.
* * *
Last night I was reading TV Guide (yes, I DO read the MOST fascinating stuff!), and I came across this little blurb: Nely Gal�n is finally practicing what she preaches. The 41 year-old life coach and creator of Fox’s hit makeover show The Swan had her first plastic surgery on July 23 when she turned to one of the show’s surgeons, Dr. Terry Dubrow, for a breast augmentation. Gal�n, who swears she’d never had more than Botox shots in her forehead, tells TV Guide that she has wanted the surgery since giving birth to her son four years ago. Oh my GOD. THIS is why you should never have plastic surgery, people. It APPARENTLY makes you so delusional that you think that people will look at you: and actually believe you when you claim you’ve never had any plastic surgery at all. I call BULLSHIT on this one, folks. Just glancing at her, I’d say she’s not only had Botox in her forehead, she’s had a brow lift, cheek implants, silicone injections in her lips (or something else to make them puffy and frightening), and maybe even a chin implant. I might be wrong about some of those – but the woman HAS HAD PLASTIC SURGERY, there’s no doubt about it. For the love of christ, she looks like MADAME. I don’t CARE that she’s had plastic surgery, it’s HER body – hell, she can become Jocelyn Wildenstein (::shudder::), for all I care – but don’t LIE about it, like we can’t take one look at her face and know the truth. We might be dumb, but we’re not BLIND, for crying out loud. I promise y’all that when I’m on facelift #13, I won’t lie about it. In fact, I’ll probably give you all the gory details, complete with pictures.
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Bahaha! Jocelyn Wildenstein says that if a woman can’t afford plastic surgery, she should develop a personality and learn to bake! Yeah, that’s who we need to be taking plastic surgery tips from… (Er, never mind. I didn’t realize Happy Woman is a satire site. Durrrr. Perhaps I should pay attention next time? Nah.)
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::urrrrrp:: “Oh! ExCUSE me!”]]>


by @ Thursday, August 19th, 2004. Filed under Life

Some Kind of Wonderful while I was on the elliptical machine this morning. I sure do love those 80s movies. I love Eric Stoltz, too. Gotta love the redheads.

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From my comments: Did you know that Penn & Teller’s Bull—- Season 1 is out on DVD now? We can all see Robyn and Fred on DVD. (and VHS) Yep, it’s true. We’re in the one about diet fads. Fred looks wonderful, I look like a gaping idiot. You can own (or rent!) your very own copy and watch it over and over again. Whee! What kinda popcorn do y’all eat? Fred and the spud are the big popcorn eaters – they usually eat it every night for a snack. They were eating Jolly Time Light popcorn (microwavable), and I guess it wasn’t bad. BUT the other day “popcorn” was on my list, and I had no idea what kind to get, so I grabbed a box of the Orville Redenbacher Butter Light and HOLY CRAP is that stuff good! I’ve said before that popcorn is one of those things like coffee that smells better than it tastes (at least, to me), but this stuff is amazing. Buttery, flavorful, just all-around DAMN GOOD. I highly recommend it, but it’s a little pricey, so you might want to wait ’til there’s a sale. Luckily it’s buy one, get one free here at Publix, so I grabbed a couple of boxes, and I may go back and grab a couple more tomorrow. Check this out… I don’t get it, but there it is. the largest damn shuttlecock (tee hee) evah. Y’all love to type the word “shuttlecock”, don’t you? Heh. Love the sunglasses website. I’ll be adding it to my favorite. I unfortunately need prescription – contacts and I don’t get along – but I need to buy some for my nephew who just went to Iraq. I guess they are a hot items since life with broken or missing sunglasses is hell over there. Any ideas what would be cool for a 23 year old Army “boy”? OK MAN but he’s still my boy! I have planned mid-October for my first care package. This is an excellent site if you’re looking to send stuff to soldiers in Iraq. It has a list of stuff they need over there, and how to send it. Badminton can be a killer, actually. Are you sure the shuttlecock wasn’t in slow motion? ‘Cause those babies have been clocked at 90 mph. I still wouldn’t watch it, partly because racket sports just don’t excite me and partly because you just can’t see anything anyway except people swinging rackets and these indistinguishable blurs of air where the shuttlecock used to be. I watched a film of it once and was left going, “Did he hit that? Where is it now? What just happened?” I’m sure it was moving faster than it looked, but I think it was just the WAY it moved that made it so funny. It still cracks me up that badminton is an Olympic event! Robyn, have you watched, or are you even interested in watching, Growing up Gotti (A&E)? I find it intriguing and addictive! They call them the “Hotti Gottis”!!! Poor Victoria has got her hands FULL. I love Growing up Gotti as well as Airline. Airline makes me happy with my job and so glad I don’t work for an airline company. People are RUDE! I’ve been wanting to check out Airline for a while now, and my friend Liz always tells me about Growing up Gotti when she calls, so I want to see that as well – I just have to remember to set the DVR to catch ’em! Hey Robyn, would Fred want to rebuild your new computer? 😉 I LOVE LOVE LOVE that case! Nance and I have both been drooling over it. Fred thinks it’s ugly as hell, but I love it. I’m SO getting that case the next time around! Um, this isn’t probably relevent to me since my chances of getting preggers now that I am FORTY-FIVE are QUITE nil (old eggs), BUT does using Seasonale lessen one’s chances of getting pregnant when she decides to go off of it ?? Seasonale’s just a birth control pill packaged differently, so while I don’t know this for sure, I’m going to guess that the answer is “no”. You’d have to check with a professional to be sure, though. (Heh. See how I cover my ass?) Hey Robyn, have you seen this? Wahhhh! I want a kitten!!! Anyway, regarding the cats, my cat doesn’t go outside, so, luckily, we don’t get any mail on the doorstep, BUT, she does eat toilet paper. What gives? Is this normal? Hell if I know. Maybe she thinks she needs more fiber? I’m just glad as hell that none of our cats have gotten into the habit of playing with (or eating!) the toilet paper. In response to my request for help when singing the “She’s a little average” song, Bozoette rose to the occasion: She’s a little average, She’s really not a looker. Yes, she’s a little average, But at least she’s not a hooker! I married her because I’m Pretty average too, She’s beautiful to me, but I’m probably hideous to you! Heh. I do love my readers!
* * *
We (I say “we”, but mean “Fred”) started putting medicine in the cats’ ears last night. None of them seemed to like it, but Miz Poo had the strongest reaction – she walked around with her ears held out to the side. It was funny as hell. And to add insult to injury, after we put medicine in her ears, we gave her a pill to help her swollen lip, and a shot of oil to help with the dandruff. She spent the rest of the evening hiding out under the bed, poor baby. Fred is just amazed that one portly cat can have so many health issues. Poor Miz Poo.
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Even sound asleep, he looks annoyed. If Fred dares to walk away from his desk, Meester Boogers is in his chair, sound asleep by the time he comes back. ]]>


by @ Wednesday, August 18th, 2004. Filed under Life

* * * Homework: Week 28 Pets: are they worth the added housework? How much extra work around the house (besides the work required for their regular care) do your pets create for you? Do, or did, you factor in housework when deciding to get a pet? Do the benefits outweigh the headches, at least on most days? I’d say that the benefits outweigh the headaches most of the time. The biggest housework they add to my housecleaning schedule (hahahahah! I typed “my housecleaning schedule” with a straight face!) is cleaning out the litter box every morning and vacuuming up the litter more often than I’d like. They also track a lot of litter and cat hair on the stairs, which are carpeted, and I hate vacuuming the stairs, so I only do that about once a week. Other than that, I can’t complain. Except for the cricket legs I’ve been having to pick up lately. And I suspect there’s a big pile of dead crickets somewhere I’ll have to vacuum up or scoop up and toss out. Maybe they’ll decompose before I find them… Oh, and the hairballs. I loathe cleaning up hairballs. Ugh. Little bastards.

* * *
I’ve been an errand-running motherfucker this week, let me tell you. Every day, there have been errands to run, and today’s been the busiest so far. I had to run to the vet’s to get ear mite medication, to the fruit-and-veggie stand about 10 minutes down the road to get a big-ass bag of fresh tomatoes (yummy!), to Sam’s to buy bottled water (yes, I refill the bottles, but only for two days, because after that I understand the plastic starts to break down and leach into the water) and a few other things, and on the way home from Sam’s, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up all the stuff we’ve run out of since I went TWO DAYS AGO. How on earth do people do it, just going to the grocery store every two weeks? We’re always running out of stuff we can’t live without (salad, milk, popcorn, Diet Coke) and running to the store to buy more. We won’t run out of chicken anytime soon, though, that’s for sure. I love Sam’s.
* * *
Hey, did you know that season one of Knight Rider is available on DVD? I saw it at Sam’s and had to really struggle not to buy it. NOT. You’ve got to wonder, though, how much demand there was to see that show on DVD. And when the hell are they going to put Baywatch out?
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Spanky lurrrrves the sun, have I mentioned?]]>

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