3/12/12 – Monday

In case you missed it over the weekend, on Saturday there were cute kitty pics and an answer to a question, and on Sunday I announced that SALLY PEPPERS HAS BEEN ADOPTED (WOOT!) and there were more cute kitty pics along with the kittens’ weights and a picture of each of their little monkey faces. … Continue reading “3/12/12 – Monday”

In case you missed it over the weekend, on Saturday there were cute kitty pics and an answer to a question, and on Sunday I announced that SALLY PEPPERS HAS BEEN ADOPTED (WOOT!) and there were more cute kitty pics along with the kittens’ weights and a picture of each of their little monkey faces.

And over at Dinosaurs Can’t Eat Pizza, Nance and I made Oatmeal Cream Pies this week, and the post will be up later today.

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Stupid things I have recently done:

1. I was in Publix last Wednesday (I have to stop going to Publix on Wednesday – it’s the day the new sales flyer comes out as well as Senior Discount Day, so it is PACKED from the minute the doors open) and I had forgotten to ask Fred if there was anything he needed. So I got out my cell phone and dialed his number (I have not yet educated myself on how to use the “contacts” list or the speed dial function for making calls because I rarely make calls on my cell). The phone rang a few times and I was about to hang up because if he doesn’t answer his phone after two rings, that means he’s not at his desk and thus won’t be answering. But before I could hang up, the phone was picked up.


“Hey,” I said. “I’m at Publix. Do you need anything?”

There was a long, long silence. I was on the verge of impatience when he said “Well, I don’t think so. My wife was going to head to the store later on, I’m sure she can pick something up if I need it.”

I was all “?” for a long few seconds before I realized what was going on, that I had dialed the wrong number, and that the guy sounded just enough like Fred that I hadn’t noticed it wasn’t him.

I mumbled an apology and then hung up.

Now just wait: one day the phone’s going to ring and it’s going to be that guy, asking if I could pick up some milk for them while I’m out.

2. Last week, I bought a chocolate-covered marshmallow at the store – actually, it was probably the same trip mentioned above. I like the chocolate-covered marshmallows available this time of year, and usually have a few while they’re around. When I got home, I put it in my desk drawer with plans to have it at some point during the day. After dinner, when I opened my desk drawer, it was gone. GONE!

Oh, I fumed. Because there are two people in this house, and the cats lack the strength to open that desk drawer and THAT BASTARD HAD STOLEN AND EATEN MY CHOCOLATE COVERED MARSHMALLOW. MINE. I stomped around, I hmphed and sighed. Oh, I was a joy to be around as I fumed silently.

An hour later I opened a different desk drawer (I’m sure you see where this is going) and there it was.

I was an idiot for even suspecting him, because guess what Fred Anderson hates, loathes and despises? That’s right, marshmallows.

(He has no taste.)

3. I was opening the refrigerator to grab my bottle of Diet Coke off the door to pour my morning cup (shut up and drink your coffee, motherfuckers), and as I reached to grab the bottle, my eyes fell upon a bottle of Clavamox which was sitting on the top shelf (Corbie’s got a UTI). In my mind, I thought for some reason of how hard you have to shake the bottle before you can measure it out so that you can be sure it’s well-mixed, and as I thought that thought, I SHOOK THE FRIGGIN BOTTLE OF DIET COKE AS HARD AS I COULD as if I were shaking the bottle of Clavamox. I ask you: what the fuck?

(That bottle of soda went back in the fridge for a couple of days to recover from being shaken so.)

4. It came to my attention, more than two months after my birthday, that I am 44, not 43. This came to my attention when I was looking at the year (which, I’m sorry, 2012 does NOT seem like it could possibly be the current year. Just about every time I write it down, I have to question myself “No, really, it’s 2012? That’s some futuristic shit, right there.”) and I thought “Huh. It seems odd that in an even year, I’m the odd age of 43. Usually when it’s an even year, I’m an even age. Did something weird happen with the years?”

No, seriously. I thought maybe we had a leap year and I forgot about it.

Then I thought and thought and thought some more (okay, really I only thought about it for like 10 seconds, but that seems like a long time, no?) and apparently the simple math part of my brain is still intact, because I was able to subtract 1968 from 2012 (seriously? It’s 2012?) and I felt an honest moment of surprise to discover that I am, in fact, 44.

I know, I know, what a fascinating never-before-done topic, “OMG, am old!”. But seriously – 44! How the hell did that happen?

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Emmy and the squirming mass o’ babies. Look at Razzie’s little stumpy tail and skinny, stripey legs there in the front. SO CUTE.

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“I like to get as close to Mama’s face as possible. It’s more comfy up here.”
“Dude, I know, right?”

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When one needs to get higher and can’t quite pull oneself up, stepping on ones sibling’s face is always acceptable.

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Do you see Logie there on top, crawling across her siblings? Apparently Her Majesty’s toes are too precious to touch fabric.

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“Ah, yes, this bed made of my brother and sisters will do nicely.”

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“HEY! I went to sleep on a pile of kittens and woke up on this stupid pink thing! I WOULD LIKE TO LODGE A COMPLAINT, PLEASE CALL THE MANAGER.”

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More than a year after Fred put up the walkway and the corner platform in the kitchen, Stinkerbelle has finally ventured forth to check it out (until now, she’s always stuck to the other side of the kitchen, getting up there by jumping from the floor to the top of the fridge and then to the top of the cupboards, and reversing the process to get down to the floor). She’s been spending a LOT of time hanging out on the walkway and on the corner platform.

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Pretty girl.

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2011: No entry.
2010: LOOK how hard they work every single day, protecting those chickens!
2009: And then I realize that baby wasps grow up to be adult wasps, and I electrocute the shit out of those fuckers.
2008: “You realize,” I said to Fred as I watched Tommy diligently lick the top of Miss Stank’s head, “Even if we wanted to, we could never get a divorce.”
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I’m a total freak.
2003: She’s home!
2002: Of course, my sympathy for him will only last until he poos in the hallway instead of the litter box again.
2001: I am the dumbest dumbass in the whole wide world, I really am.
2000: Sometimes, they lay on the floor and perform for us.