December 11, 2006
Monday is Listday
1. Poop, a man at your door and cats
One of my favorite online stores is Doctors Foster and Smith, a very reputable and goofy pet emporiun where you can find anything for your animal. I have to buy cat litter online because my local pet shop stopped carrying my brand. I'm not complaining, since that means I now get a visit from the hot UPS man. Hello, Brown! What CAN you do for ME today?
Anyway, once you purchase from the good Doctors, they'll occasionally send you a catalog. I realize I could never get one of my felines to wear this because if I did they would kill me in my sleep, but oh this is FUNNY:
2. Before you even ask...
The brand of cat litter we use here at Chez Brokeback BankAccount is this one, which has such an unpleasant name I am not sure I can type it out. It is also expensive. And has a weird looking cat picture on the bag. Nice!
But Roy The Cat is a very delicate and nasally-challenged animal who has what I like to call "a condition." It sounds much more optimistic than "an inoperable growth inside the head area." Because of his special condition he sneezes, and has asthma, and snorts a lot. I have tried every cat litter on the market -- LITERALLY. This particular litter has less dust than any other brand I have found in five years of experimentation. It's expensive but worth it. The cats find it an acceptable pooping surface.
3. Speaking of poop
Does anyone else watch "Cold Case" on teevee? Last night they had a show about a country singer's death and it seems that whoever writes this show thinks Southerners are from another planet and we are all named things like 'Truck' and 'Honey' and 'Big Daddy.' This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life. I was incredibly offended by the entire show, portraying Nashville like it was a backwoods creek town. The songs were good, and the actor who played the country singer was hot, but the rest of the show was an insult. It was like the writers of this show learned everything about the South by watching old re-runs of The Dukes of Hazzard. Idjits.
4. Even downtown smells clean now
I had to work on Saturday, I was in the office all day until almost 6 p.m. Cry for me, will you? Then I drove home and I was almost to the 405 interchange when it started pouring down. I wasn't excited to be on the freeway in Los Angeles in a downpour, but Lord I was happy about the rain. I got home and sat down on my patio out back and had a glass of wine and just listened to the rain and wind. It hadn't rained here in eleventeen years, everything was so dry and dirty and cracked from the ultra-low humidity, and listening to it rain was the best Saturday night I have had in a long while. Being alone isn't all bad.
5. Knitted champagne
Found this lady's photo website, and you knitters will love the hand-knit bubbly!
6. Trying to think of a number six
I need more coffee. And sleep. I have been working round-the-clock lately on all sorts of craziness, Sunday was a nice break and I was lazy as a Sobakowa and apparently my body wants more! more! more of the lazy! This one funny thing happened, though. Whoops.
My bedroom has a window that faces out directly on the neighbor's yard and driveway. And even though you'd think my ancient rat-trap of a house would have windows well-soundproofed from the five hundred layers of lead paint, you would be surprised how well sound can travel. And I just forget all about it from time to time and go along my merry way and forget that my neighbors are sometimes (read: ALL THE FREAKING TIME) hanging out in their driveway, right outside my window.
I was un-lazy enough yesterday to do a very few basic things like wash the sheets and launder enough clothes to get me through the week. Did I mention the tired, woe-is-me part? I did? Really? I wasn't sure, thought I'd slip it in again real quicklike.
So I was making the bed. Not very exciting stuff. But when bed-making commences in my house I get A LOT of feline help, mainly from Bob who thinks the sheets are hiding mystical bed mice at all times and said bed mice have to be attacked with great vigor and wiggling of his backside, and he pounces each time I move the sheet or try to tuck it in. This is sometimes annoying and sometimes funny, but if I am quick enough I can usually avoid bodily harm. Yesterday I was not quick enough (see: lazy). Bob pounced with big claws open just as I reached down to fold back the flat sheet. He managed to scratch the roadmap of Tulsa on the back of my hand. I yelled. LOUD.
Me: Bob DAMMIT you scratched me!
Me: I know what I will be having for dinner tonight! One lasagna made entirely out of orange tabby cat! You will taste so good covered in spaghetti sauce and parmesean cheese! And you are fat and will make a REALLY BIG LASAGNA do you hear me? Fatso meano!
Bob: (yawn) (flops over to expose belly)
Me: Or! I might get cat scratch fever and DIE and won't you feel SAD because who would open your little fancy feast cans, then, huh? You'll be SO SORRY when you don't have me to kick around anymore! That's right! I am probably dying as we speak!
From outside: (cough) (giggle) (cough) Anyway, so blah blah blah.....
Yes, that's right. My neighbors heard me talking to MY CAT, in which I first threaten to eat him and next decide to switch tactics and GUILT MY CAT into feeling bad for scratching me. I have lost my damn mind. And now am craving lasagna, with our without tabby cat. Probably without.
But, amusing and crazy as my neighbors may think I am now, wait until I go all the way over the edge and start toting my felines around in one of these:
Gives whole new meaning to crazy. And crazy don't come cheap!
Posted by laurie at December 11, 2006 11:43 AM