4/13/10 – Tuesday

From reader Amy – go read about sweet little Pug Casey, and help out if you can! Seriously – have you ever seen a cuter little face?   * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= *   I recently read a post on someone’s blog somewhere (I can’t … Continue reading “4/13/10 – Tuesday”

From reader Amy – go read about sweet little Pug Casey, and help out if you can!

Seriously – have you ever seen a cuter little face?


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I recently read a post on someone’s blog somewhere (I can’t even begin to remember where it was), and the person was answering a question someone had asked wherein she had read her boyfriend’s text messages accidentally, and stumbled across the fact that he was supposed to have lunch with an ex-girlfriend while she (the question asker and current girlfriend) was supposed to be out of town. Now, the focus of the question was on whether the girlfriend should be concerned/ say something to the man in question. That’s not what caught my interest, though – what caught my interest was in the blogger’s answer to the question.

(Jesus christ, could I make the build-up to my point any more convoluted and boring?)

Okay, I went and looked – it was Slynnro, this post, and in her answer to the question, she says This is the thing about reading texts and emails- you tend to find things you wish you hadn’t.

Which leads me to my point, and that is that I have full access to Fred’s email and texts (Fred generally hands his phone over to me if there are texts, so that I can delete them – he has never sent a text in his life), and holy Virgin Mary in a pink sparkly sidecar does that man send and receive the MOST FUCKING BORING emails that have ever been seen on the face of the earth. I would almost welcome a flirty email with a “fuck me!” subtext from an ex-girlfriend when I’m snoring through his emails just to break up the tedium.

Now, I’m not a complete idiot, it’s entirely possible that he’s got a second email address about which I have no clue, and that there’s a veritable treasure of flirty emails –

(I’m sorry, if you’ll pardon me while I guffaw a little at the idea of any hapless dumbass sending Fred a flirty email, because if I know my husband, I imagine he’d be mostly impatient that she was wasting his time with that happy horseshit when there’s shit to be stirred on the internet.)

but I doubt it.

And just so y’all don’t think that I’m all breathing down his neck when he’s sending or reading his emails, I don’t look at his email all that often, maybe every few months. I either have to be looking for some specific information, or hugely bored with nothing left anywhere on the internet that I haven’t already read, to even think about looking at his email.

Also yes, of course he knows that I read his email, because he’s aware that I’m nosy like that, and I have full access to all his shit all the time. He has full access to all my shit all the time too, of course, but he doesn’t bother reading my email unless he’s looking for an email address or something else that I’ve asked him to look for. As bored as I am by his email, he is six times that bored at the thought of reading my email.

Of course, he’s WRONG, because my email is far more interesting than his. I mean, I have emails about cats and Real Housewives and Dr. Phil; how does it get more interesting than that, I ask you?


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I’ve recently realized that I go through nickname phases when it comes to the cats. Instead of calling each and every one of them by their names (because if I even tried, I’d be a mess of sputtering through the fragments of six different names before I got to the right name. “Spank – Sug – Tom – Mom – ELWOOD! Stop that!”), I go with a general nickname. I think for a little while last year it was “Honey”, then I went through about a six month “Bunny” phase, and now I’m calling them all “Turkey.”

“Whatcha doin’, Turkey?” I say to Elwood, who’s hanging out minding his own business. Then I walk into the next room and it’s “Hello, Turkey-butt.” to Sugarbutt, who’s sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor hoping that it’s almost time for The Snack. And so on.

I always add “butt,” “face,” and “dork” to the end of the nickname for reasons that are unclear to even me.

They don’t care what I call them – if I yell “Turkey-butt! Time for the snackin’!”, they come running just as fast as if I yell “Suggie! Time for the snackin’!”

It’s probably no surprise that most of them don’t know their names, is it?


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“Hello! Tryin’ to sleep, here!” (Bolitar)

Do you SEE the baleful look on Corbett’s face?! He’s got himself some hate going on, right there. I don’t know what Bolitar did, but it was apparently QUITE offensive.

Getting ready to jump on his brother and kick some butt.

“I am but a poor sweet baby who wants nothing but a cuddle.” Don’t be fooled!

“HELLO! That belly’s not going to rub itself!”


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Don’t be fooled by the sassy look. She’s a complete and utter sweetheart.


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Spanky, snoozing on the couch. He’s such a HAPPY boy.


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2009: Rude little brats.
2008: No entry.
2007: Feel free to cut and paste, assholes, though I fully understand if you prefer something with a few more misspellings.
2006: Must… resist… evil… urge…
2005: “Ah JEEZUS, here she goes again with the Gatlinburg! She goes for four days and talks about it for four weeks!”
2004: Oh. My. Eyes.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Entries I liked.
2000: No entry.