7/4/05 – Bitchypoo

* * * Dear neighbors: Yes, yes, it is QUITE an amazing thing that you can buy fireworks every three feet during the summer season here in lovely Madison Alabama, and it is so very fortunate that you live on a street that ends in a circle, so y’all can gather up a large group of friends and set them off directly across from my house. And I didn’t bitch – much – about the fact that you were setting off fireworks last night, or that you were scaring the holy shit out of the half-feral mother cat we’re fostering (though the kittens certainly thought the fireworks were the bee’s knees), because as Fred pointed out, y’all usually stop at a reasonable hour. And you did. You stopped well before 10:00, and even the fuckheads in the other subdivision stopped not long after 10:00, and even though I know y’all will be setting off fireworks again tonight, I’m sure you’ll stop at a reasonable hour again. And yes, the fireworks are pretty and cool and all that. So I even admired them for a moment, despite the loud noises they make. But I predicted to Fred last night, I said “There’s going to be fireworks shit all over our lawn and driveway tomorrow morning, I KNOW IT.” and then I said “Is it wrong to hope that they blow something off?” and then I felt bad and said “Well, not an arm or a leg, or an eyeball. Maybe just a pinky finger. No one ever uses the pinky finger.” As far as I know, no one blew any body parts off with the fireworks last night, but on the lawn and driveway? Fireworks shit. In the street? Fireworks shit. And I know you fucking lame-os won’t go so far as to PICK THE FIREWORKS SHIT up or even send your kids around to do it. No, you’ll just leave it there to be driven over and rained on and kicked at, and eventually it’ll either be ground into nothing or kicked down the gutter, so why should you be bothered to pick that shit up? I thought I was lazy and rude, but I’d never leave shit all over someone’s lawn, because that’s beyond rude. That makes me want to smack you, really hard. I swear to god, I will NEVER live at the end of a circle, ever again. Fuckers.

* * * Currently reading: How I Stole Her Husband, by Liz Ireland. Finished over the weekend: Eleven on Top, by Janet Evanovich. Gotta love that Stephanie Plum. Anyone else envision The Rock as Ranger? I can’t think of who would be perfect to play Stephanie, though. Suggestions? Also finished, late last night: Family History, by Dani Shapiro. I absolutely could not put this book down. I highly recommend it. * * * It has suddenly occurred to me that since they’ve been fixed, the kittens – and Mia! – are available for adoption, even though there’s no room at the pet store. If anyone in the area (or willing to drive to the area) is seriously interested in adopting one of the kittens, let me know. You’ll still have to contact the lady who runs the shelter and fill out an application and everything, but I sure would rather have as many of the babies adopted and going straight to homes where they’ll be loved than sitting in a cage at the pet store, you know? * * * Just for the record, if you send me an email and show an unnatural (read: any) interest in my feet and the sandals that gave me a blister on top of my feet two years ago, and follow said interest up by requesting pictures of my feet, guess what? You’re not so much going to get a reply, as a shudder and a deletion. * * * Speaking of shoes, these are the best investment I’ve ever made. They’re incredibly comfortable, I can do a lot of walking (as in, shopping – I haven’t tried them on exercise-type walking) in them, and they’re holding up well. I probably ought to get myself a pedicure, however, because my heels are cracked and dirty (because I prefer to walk around without shoes on) and hideous. I’ve never had a pedicure, though, and the thought of someone touching my feet fills me with terror. Also, it’s not the sort of thing I’d want to do alone. Is that weird? * * * So, when you’re watching a television show or movie, do you find yourself distracted by small details? For instance, I was watching (“Califorrrrrnia! Califorrrrrrnia! Caaaaaaaaaaliforrrrniaaaaaaaaa!“) The O.C. while I was exercising the other day (IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THE VALENTINE’S EPISODE OF SEASON 1, SKIP THIS. POSSIBLE SPOILERS AHEAD!) I was watching the Valentine’s Day episode of Season 1, and at the end Sandy and Kirsten walked into their bedroom and it was filled with candles and rose petals and a big-ass box of chocolates, and my first thought was* “Who the hell lit the candles and set up the bedroom?” Because it sure wasn’t Sandy, because he was at the dance-shindig-thingy, and it wasn’t Ryan, because he was at the dance-shindig-thingy too, and it sure as hell wasn’t Seth, because he was off talking to Summer about their bad sex, so who? Does one ask one’s housekeeper to do that sort of thing, or what? *Actually, my very first thought was “Hey. I never get lit candles and rose petals and chocolates!”, and then I realized we could never have that many lit candles because we have very nosy cats with tails that would catch on fire (no one on The O.C. has any sort of pet, have you noticed?), and I further realized that I’d eventually get pissy about having to clean up the rose petals (and I don’t like the smell of roses, anyway, because they smell JUST LIKE BEER to me, for some reason), and god KNOWS I don’t need any more chocolate in my life. I’m the ultimate romantic, aren’t I? * * * We watched Troy Saturday night because Fred had seen it and thought I might like it, too. Not a bad movie, but Fred wished there’d been more naked Brad Pitt. On an interesting sidenote, the actress who played Helen of Troy – Diane Kruger – and the actress who played Briseis – Rose Byrne – were in the suckalicious Wicker Park together. It was bugging the hell out of me that Briseis looked so familiar to me, and that was why, because I’d seen her in (the horribly boring) Wicker Park. And on another interesting sidenote, the messenger boy who walked in to the tent at the beginning to wake up Brad Pitt looked familiar to me, and guess what? Jacob Smith! Owen, from Party of Five! Also, Nan from Circle of Friends! Hamish from Braveheart! HOLY SHIT. Brian Cox is playing Dr. Finch in the movie version of Running with Scissors! And Joseph Fiennes as Neil Bookman! Sorry. I get a little caught up in the Internet Movie Database sometimes. * * * The kitten section. So, the kittens are doing well. Mia, on the other hand… See, Saturday night as Fred and I were laying in bed, we started talking about Mia and how we felt so sorry for her, because every time we went into the room she’s in – which is next door to the room the kittens are in – she would run out into the big box we have blocking the way so she can’t escape into the rest of the house, and she’d howl in the direction of the kittens’ room, and one of them would hear her and meow sadly, and she’d start digging at the box and trying frantically to get to them. So every time we went in to see her, we were feeling really bad for her, and we started talking about it in bed Saturday night – as I mentioned – and we decided to put her back with her kittens. So we – Fred – bundled her up and took her into the room with the kittens, and they came over to sniff at her, and she purred and licked them, and we felt glad that we’d reunited the Momma and the babies, and we went to bed. And then Sunday, every time we went into the room Mia would run out into the box and lay down and give me a look like “What the fuck did I want to go back in there for, again?”, and she wasn’t purring, and if the kittens would come over to her she’d push them away. So we boxed her up and took her back into the other room, and she seems okay, though I don’t think she’s feeling good. She threw up a few times last night, which I suspect was brought on by stress – the fireworks were really freaking her out – so we gave her an anti-emetic and loved on her a little, and I guess we’ll just see how it goes. Fred did try to introduce Mister Boogers and Mia, to see how – if – they’d get along, with the idea that we’d just let her out into the house if they were okay with each other. Mia was okay, but Mister Boogers was a great big baby, so it doesn’t seem that that’s a very good idea. Poor Mia.

“So then he said… hehehe!.. he said… bwahaha!… he said…’The Aristocrats!’…”

“Bahahah! Hahahahaha! ‘The Aristocrats!’…”

“Hehe…ha…whew! That joke just never gets old!”

“Hee! I’m sticking my tongue out at her, but she can’t see me! Also, woman who brings me food and tries to give me too much love, that is one HAIRY-ASS leg you’ve got there. Nasty pedicure-needing foot, too.”