Random things that make me twitch: 1. Could of/ should of/ would of. No. NO. There is NO SUCH ANIMAL as “could of.” What you’re trying to say (write) is “could’ve,” which is short for “could have.” Please stop. Every time I read something along the lines of “I could of kicked him!” I have … Continue reading “4/7/09”

Random things that make me twitch:

1. Could of/ should of/ would of. No. NO. There is NO SUCH ANIMAL as “could of.” What you’re trying to say (write) is “could’ve,” which is short for “could have.” Please stop. Every time I read something along the lines of “I could of kicked him!” I have a tiny little aneurysm, and one day I will fall over dead and it will be ALL YOUR FAULT. STOP IT.

2. Robin Tunney. Jesus god in heaven, please stop me from smacking her across the face until my arm aches. While I will admit that she’s a passably good actress, I SUPPOSE, her super-pouty face makes me want to hurt her.

3. Microfiber. My hideous, dry-ass hands always get caught in the fibers of micro, and it is a singularly unpleasant feeling. I don’t wear microfiber underwear, I refuse to clean with microfiber cleaning cloths, I DON’T CARE HOW WELL THEY CLEAN, I can’t stand the feel of the fibers plucking at my super-dry skin, and my home will always be a microfiber-free zone. PROMISE.

4. My super-dry hands. Look. I slather lotion on my body from head to toe as soon as I get out of the shower, and then that’s generally it until after the sixteenth time I wash crap (sometimes literally) off my hands, and I think “Wow, my hands are gross and dry!” and then I lotion them up, but then I ALWAYS have to wash my hands like ten seconds after I’ve put the lotion on them, and I’ve tried that whole thing where you put Vaseline on your hands and then put gloves on over the Vaseline and sleep with the gloves on (or at least a few hours, whereupon I wake up, yank off the gloves, and toss them on the floor), but it doesn’t help. AT ALL. Stupid hands.

5. Cats licking themselves and making that slurpy smacking sound. Every night. EVERY NIGHT. Every night I settle down to read for a while before bed, and Miz Poo settles down next to me, and she starts grooming herself. She grooms her face. She grooms her ears. She grooms her chest. But then as soon as she hits her mid-section, she starts making that SLURPY SMACKING noise, and she might as well be driving an ice pick through my eardrums, because it takes about ten seconds of that sound before I lose my mind. I poke at her and say “Stop it.” She looks at me, appalled at my nerve, pauses, stares off into space, tucks her paws under her and closes her eyes, and then I go back to reading. AND THEN IT BEGINS AGAIN. Like I’m not there and can’t HEAR her. GODDAMN. So we go through the poke-stop it-acting-like-she’s-gonna-stop routine at least twice more before I put my book down, look her in the eye and say “Really? Are you fucking kidding me? Are you going to MAKE me run you off the bed?” She sighs and settles down for real most nights, sighing her put-upon sigh, but some nights she MUST make that slurpy smacking sound, it’s apparently MANDATORY, and so she jumps down off the bed, travels two feet away, and commences slurpy-smacking. Which is when I sit up and shake the can of compressed air at her until she runs out the door, sending a wounded look over her shoulder at me.

6. Is that cat pee? Is that cat pee? Or isn’t it? Do you smell that? You don’t smell that? Put your face right here next to mine, and sniff. No? Maybe? Well, help me find it! ::sniff::sniff::sniff:: It’s not the couch. It’s not the couch pillows. There’s nothing on the ottoman. The table? No, not the table. Sniff that part of the rug, Boogie was sniffing that part of the rug earlier with great interest and vigor. I’ll check the corner by the stairs. No, nothing here. By the door? The fireplace? Let me get the black light. Is that -? No, right, that was there. God, we sure do have a lot of fuzz on our couch. Well, I don’t see anything. Maybe it wasn’t cat pee. You’re sure you don’t smell it? I don’t smell it now, either. Hm.

7. What the fuck is that smell? Jesus CHRIST, what is that smell? Do you smell that? Right? Did something die somewhere? It’s not the litter boxes. It’s not the compost bucket. Is it the pig bucket? No. OH GOD. Did you throw FOOD in the trash can LIKE A WEEK AGO? I ought to TIE THIS AROUND YOUR NECK and make you wear it! Would you take the trash out, please?

What makes YOU twitch?



Oddly enough, cleaning the litter boxes and/ or wiping kittens’ behinds does not make me twitch. Much.

I never did get any cleaning done yesterday (ran to Sam’s and got home just in the nick of time to pack up the kittens and take them to the vet), so off I go to start. I think I’ll start by relaxing with the kittens and then maybe swiping in a desultory manner at some dusty furniture.



The really good news for today is that all the kittens went to the vet and were tested for feline leukemia (FeLV) and feline immunodeficiency virus (FIV), and all came back negative. That’s great news – I’ll admit, I was worried, but all my worry was for naught.

I was actually going to leave Beulah at home because she’s still so tiny I didn’t think they’d be able to get blood from her. But she’s never been alone, and I didn’t want her to get lonely, so I popped her in the carrier, and they decided to go ahead and give it a try, and were able to get enough blood for the test. Yay!

(I will tell you, it was NO FUN sitting in the waiting room of the clinic hearing my babies cry from the back of the clinic. They did NOT enjoy having blood drawn, and they were scared. I gave them lots of love when we got home, and they seem to have forgiven me.)

They’ve also had their initial vaccinations, and now we can relax until they’re all over two pounds and can be spayed and neutered!

(Well, like I said, it’ll probably be quite a while before Miss Beulah’s big enough to be spayed, so probably her brothers and sister will go when they’re all over two pounds.)

Since their tests came back negative, it’s safe for them to mingle with our cats, so in the next few days I’m going to start giving them more room to roam. With the judicious use of baby gates, I’ll let them explore the bathroom (which is the room closest to their room), and then probably will quickly allow them the run of the entire upstairs. I expect it won’t be too long before they’re racing through the entire house, and I can’t even imagine what that’ll be like!

2009-04-06 (6)
It’s like a clown car! You think we could cram another kitten or two in here?

More kitten pics (and a video!) over at L&H.



“You are going to let those noisy, stinky little kittens…. OUT of their room? I don’t believe I care for that thought. At all. Is this up for negotiation, perhaps? Like, you don’t let them out, and I don’t barf on your keyboard?”



2008: She turned and glared her “FUCK YOU” glare at me, and went along her way.
2007: No entry.
2006: You WISH you were me.
2005: Off to Gatlinburg.
2004: Our palates are too immature, I suppose.
2003: Now I know why, when the camera and sound guy were setting up and I chirped “Oh, is this the camera that’s going to make me look like Ashley Judd?”, everyone laughed so hard.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Then he and the spud went swimming yesterday, since the pool’s up to a sultry 66.