Threesome

You all thought I was kidding in that Twitter, didn't you? Nosiree, I would not joke about such serious matters.

I think these days are probably behind us. I'm torn between feeling sympathetic relief for the slipper and Linus (and real relief for my ears! Linus was not a fan of the butt sex) and loss for the comedic side of things. Because really - homosexual threesomes with inanimate love objects? Wow. That's gold, baby. Solid.

Clean Slate

He's doing just fine without them so far. Less humping, but it's still early.

I Only Write About Work

As usual, for the first hour or so after getting home, I can't pry the Linus off of me. He's like the Little Engine that Could of jumping into my lap. Well, sort of.

I sent some text messages from work to various people. I thought I'd share them:

"We're singing Rascal Flatts today. Therapy is fun."

"I ask: What happened to your nose? Answer: It got zits on it."

"My job sometimes feels less like a job, more like the most absurd babysitting gig ever."

Stinky/Alarm Clock

Stinky is so far unable to tell when two-minutes-to the alarm clock is, after Daylight Savings Time. I'm keeping track of how long it takes before he starts MEOWing to me at precisely 7:13. But! He does know how long fifteen minutes is, and will MEOW at me when fourteen minutes has passed, shorting me out of a minute of snooze.

Luckily, I've been sleeping pretty well, except for the last few days. Yesterday morning I woke up at 3:30 and had... you know those dreams you have when you're still half-awake and you know you're getting no zzz's, because in the middle of them you're angry with yourself for having stupid dreams about MySpace? But you're not awake, either? I did that for about an hour. Always a good time.

I'm pretty much able to sleep, but I had to train for it. Lots of mind-over-matter stuff with the relaxing and the not-thinking.

Sometimes I'm overwhelmed with the thinking anyway.

Stinky Says, "Good Morning!!!", Too

Snug

He Must be Part Tiger

Linus has always been a water-kitty. He's followed me into the shower from when he was the tiniest kitten. He does it to this day, sometimes I don't even notice until I get out myself and he's "drying himself" right outside the shower.

Last night was different. Last night, I ran my bath and walked into the kitchen for a minute (to get the stock pot full of boiling water, which I add to the bath, because otherwise I'd be sitting in water three inches deep and I prefer more, gah, this water heater sucks, etc) and came back to the bathroom to see Linus jumping out of the bathtub. For serious.

What a nut!

Three Cheers for Linus

As you can see from the lovely orange countertop and the summertime outside, that's Linus in the old house. Back before he was fixed, he was quite the manly cat, very handsome. Sadly, it all congealed when he lost his balls and started caring way more about food than about sex. Usually. He and Stinky both ate free-form style at the old house, whenever and as much as they wanted. It got a little out of hand, as you can see from the picture above.

Linus has been on a diet since we moved back home. Actually, they have both been on a diet, but Stinky looks about as chubby as he did when he moved in. Maybe that's why Linus's diet is going so well, they do eat out of the same dish, after all.

Anyway, I think he's doing great! Check out the slender figure below:

Update on the Cow (and Other Things)

Me: Howdy, neighbor!

Him: Good morning! How are you?

Me: Good. Say, I have a question for you...

Him: Shoot.

Me: What do you make of the cow?

Him: ...[Looks at me like I might be crazy]... Hmmm, what cow?

Me: ...

Cow: mmmMOOOOOOO!

Does that cow have timing, or does that cow have timing?

(We decided that what the neighbor makes of the cow is that I should call the person in charge of neighborhood cows. I called yesterday morning, the fella said he'd send someone down, and as of tonight, there is still a cow. I can tell from the mmmMOOOOOOO!ing.)

In other news, I partially ran over the kitten with my office chair today. He cried, I panicked. I couldn't find anything overtly wrong with him and he didn't flinch when I prodded him all over, so I assumed he was fine. I monkeyed around online, took the dog outside, got a glass of wine, etc. Then realized I hadn't seen the kitten in a while. Called for him all over the house (Stiiiiinky, Stiiiiiiiiiiiiiinky! STINKY!!!) to no avail. Kept calling and searching for 15 minutes or more before losing all of my shit. Kept picturing poor kitten hiding in a closet somewhere dying from internal injuries from desk chair, too weak to meow a response. Wanted to call Bruce, but he's working and can do very very little from 750 miles away. Called best friend instead, and best friend talked me down. Three minutes after hanging up with her, I found him in the bottom drawer of my desk, sleeping. I called her back to tell her he hadn't died of internal smooshing and heard her boyfriend in the background, feigning great distress and generally mocking me. Now I'm not sure what to do. I understand on a fundamental level why it was very funny for me to be freaking out, because it was highly unlikely that the kitten would be dying in a closet, but at the same time? It wasn't very funny to me. Also, I feel like he could have waited until she hung up to make fun of me. Am I wrong?

I've been reading another book by one of my very favorite authors, Anna Maxted. When we were camping, I read Behaving Like Adults, and it was possibly the best novel I've read in a long time. (Except for Goodbye, Lemon, by Adam Davies, another one of my very favorite authors.) After finishing the Anna Maxted, I came home and borrowed another one straight away from the library. Halfway through Being Committed, I found the most amusing passage about an old song, one that echos my own feelings:

Oh, Susanna, don't you cry for me,
I'm off to Alabama with a banjo on my knee!

I heard the tune on one of Jude's plastic toys and recalled the words out of nowhere. And wondered why Susanna would waste her time moping after a man who was so plainly a conceited idiot--moseying off to Alabama with a banjo, daring to imagine her distraught?! She was probably glad to see the back of him--him, his silly banjo, and his unrealistic view of job opportunities in the music business. Susanna--I imagined her demure and blond, in a checked pinafore, baby blue and white--was probably too well brought up to tell him she loathed his banjo playing and him.

Intruducing: Stinky

Welcome home, Stinky! You're going to be a great addition to our little family, I can tell already. Linus is already getting used to you (mostly), and for Huck, well, you were love at first sight. Too bad you weren't quite as fond of him, but nevermind! The affection, it will come after the tolerance, I'm sure of it!

You cried for the first 48 hours, unless you were asleep. If you were playing, eating, drinking, pooping, or wondering where I was, you cried. Three days later, and you're only crying when I leave the house. And sometimes when you clean yourself. You're down to 20 hours a day, and that's a huge improvement! What a brave kitty!

You are the greyest kitty I've ever met, not a shred of pink about you. Not even the pads of your feet are pink. Your tongue is the only bit that isn't grey, and it's very cute because of that.

You're going to love your new home. I guarantee it.

Auntie Sunny

Sometime at the end of the summer, I'll finally become an aunt. To Owen. Yeah, that's right.

When I heard the name for the first time (last week), I breathed a sigh of relief. At least it's not a name I'd choose for my own kid. You don't know how cranky I'd have been if she'd chosen one of my names. (Shayla? No, but my version of it.)

Vacation was effing great. I'm so tanned that I don't really resemble myself anymore. I catch my own eye in the mirror and scare myself. I shouldn't have hair this dark if I'm going to tan this quickly. It ain't right.

I got to spend many hours of fun and frolic with my mom's cousins' kids and Hannah and Phil. They're so awesome at this age. I'll always remember how, when we were out swimming in the lake full of waves, Phil would inadvertantly get a mouthful of waves. I would pick him up, clap his back, and tell him to let me kwow when he'd caught his breath. After the first episode, I'd barely get him out of the water before he'd sputter, "Cot mine breff!" Later, he told me, "That swimming was my best."

Speaking of nieces and nephews, Hannah got her ears pierced today, for her birthday. She was the bravest girl, when they pulled the triggers, I could tell she wanted to cry, but she didn't. She was a brave girl. I've got some pictures, maybe I'll share one tomorrow.

ALONG WITH MY KITTEN PICTURES! Yeah, that's right. I'm gettin' a kitten. Tomorrow.

Steam Engine, 4th

Don't hit play at work, it's loud.  You've been warned.



This has been the soundtrack to my 4th of July parade since I was in the womb.  Recently, I had to miss a couple of years due to being in Missouri, but I was back full-force this year.  It did me good to see all the familiar faces and sights.  My little cousins that I used to sling over my shoulder and carry around are now taller than I am.  Next week we'll be going camping and I'll get to know them a little better.  

It's not fair that they turned into people when I wasn't looking.  

Updates!

I haven't talked about Huckleberry in a while, so here are a few fun facts:

He loves to ride in the car. And he can smile.



If I mention "Daddy", he will sit and watch out the window for him.



He came back from my mom and dad's house after a two-day vacation with his customary "I've been at Grandma and Grandpa's" limp (they have stairs, he's too enthusiastic, and yes, I'm a teensy bit peeved they haven't blocked them off yet) with an eating disorder. He's always been the type to drool over his dish until I tell him "OK" and then he inhales it and looks for more, so when he wouldn't touch it last night, I called Mom to see if they'd, I dunno, given him "lunch" or something. If there was some reason he wasn't hungry at "TIME". ("TIME" as in, "Huckleberry, is it TIME? *cue hysterical dancing and celebration from the dog.) He didn't eat all last night, and this morning, out of sheer desperation, I brought the food dish into the kitchen. When I walked in the door, he got all excited (cue hysterical, if limpy, dancing, etc) and barely bothered to chew as usual. Apparently, Mom and Dad have taught him he can eat inside. Damn them!

As far as the Linus goes, there are a few fun updates:

He loves watching my birdfeeders outside the window.



He suddenly discovered the bathroom sink, but will only lay in there if someone's in the bathroom with him.



He spent all last week and part of this one laying under the coffee table with his belly sticking out, panting.



Oh! And have I mentioned he likes to try to mount the dog?

Update:

- OMG, Elliot is Becky number two! I love revelations like this.

- In a few weeks, we're getting another kitten. Here's a picture.

- I went to Pride in Milwaukee this weekend, and it was filled with awesome things and people and I was so proud. I am so proud. There were these judgemental people at the gates with a megaphone talking about how wrong homosexuality is, and I wanted to give them what-for, but my brother wouldn't let me. And then I saw, across the street from these pricks, a mom with a picket sign, "God blessed me with a gay son." Isn't this a strange world? I have tons of hope, though, and I think there are steps being taken every day, steps leading us to a place that isn't judgemental or cruel. Someplace that is more free.

I got a bunch of pictures with some of the cutest boys you ever did see. I'll show them when I get them developed. Also? I went to a foam party. And? I SAW KATHY GRIFFIN. It was the most amazing thing I barely remember. Stupid $4.00 beers.

- I joined Facebook. How is it possible that it's more addicting than Myspace?

Teamwork

This morning I woke up to a clack. Something had fallen from somewhere, and it sounded like Linus was the culprit. Linus is usually the culprit.

Of course I went running, and guess what I found?

Linus was dropping dog treats to the floor for Huck.

Yeah.

I'll Take That One!

Last night, in one of my many dreams, I went to see the new kittens.

Lisa pointed out the ones she thought were the best, like a black and white kitty. Those are always her favorites.

I immediately gravitated to the orange tabby kittens. There were two of them, and the first one I went to Lisa warned me away from. "He's like a tiger, be careful!" I picked up the second one.

He weighed as much as Linus. Immediately when I touched him, he started purring.

I think I'll be slightly disappointed when I get to see the kittens. I want another one of these:

and I think it's virtually impossible to find.

I Want a New Cat

And yet, everyday at about the same time, you can hear me cursing the cat we have. Most likely, I'm saying, "Damn you cat! Insert those claws into yourself in a most sensitive spot!" or, "Why do you love me when I hate you so much?!" but to be honest, I really do love this cat. The only problem is that we fixed him too late and his hormones make him hate me about 1/2 of the month. If I were fixed, maybe I wouldn't hate 1/2 the people I meet as much. But then again, my species uses tools, so I win. My prize is keeping my sexual organs intact. Woo-hoo.

I want a cat who loves to be petted, and not only when he feels he needs it. I want a cat who will show affection without crazy amounts anger afterwards. I want a nice cat.

I bought the new Sims game, "The Sims Life Stories" and I'm finding it amusing. Let me know if you find any tricks or anything. It's bothering me that I can't find a diagonal flower patch that will match my window box. If you hadn't already discovered that I'm getting old, you can think so now with my permission. I'm old and proud! Not only do I want my Sim to have a window box, I want my Sim to have a window box with flowers that fit into the space around it perfectly!

It's very strange to me that I'm the one wishing for another cat and Bruce is the one wanting another puppy, but that's the way things work, I suppose. Huck is undeniably my dog, and Linus favors Bruce. I want a cat of my own and Bruce wants a little dog he can carry around in his purse. It'll be very manly, wait and see.

Things that Vexed Me Lately:

- When people put up a recipe for homemade bread online, say at cooks.com or at allrecipes.com and the instructions read, "Put ingredients into breadmaker in order suggested by your manufacturer," and continue on to read, "Select the settings for wheat bread, dark crust." I realize that breadmaker bread is homemade, but shouldn't the instructions then be under the heading "breadmaker bread"? I don't have a freaking breadmaker, and my hands didn't come with a manufacturer's suggestion for adding ingredients. Unfortunately.

- I can't finish my knitting projects. I have six million (more like five, actually) dishcloths waiting for the ends to be woven in. I have one broadripple sock that has existed for more than one year. I have one brand spanking new embossed leaves sock that I can't wait to knit the pair to, but I'm having the damnedest time kitchenering the toe. That would have to mean I'd have to look something up. How lazy is that?

- The flatbread I made on Sunday was a little blah.

- Aldi didn't have any sour cream.

- I can't stay out any later than Bruce does, and Bruce lately decides he wants to go home right when I'm at the point where I want to stay out and be drinking forever. (When we do go out, which is twice a month or slightly less.) It's not that I can't stay out if I want to, it's that I end up being sad because Bruce isn't there to talk to and oh my god why can't I be one of those cool womyn who don't give a shit? but Bruce is my favorite person and I miss him when he's gone and then I turn into that girl who's drinking and on the verge of tears. It ain't pretty.

- The Linus knocked over a bottle of water on my desk last week, and it was all my fault for leaving the bottle untopped, and I hate that it's all my fault because the water shorted out my keyboard and now I'm using B's old one, which is nice but just not... you know... matchy.

- I can never keep up with my own mess. I clean the hell out of everything, but then I turn around and am making bread which takes a long time doesn't really leave me in the mood for cleaning, what with all that kneading and stuff.

- My coworker had surgery last week and I've been working a lot. Not as much as last week, when I'd been scheduled for several ten hour days, which let's just say I got up the balls to put the kibosh to, but a lot. For me, anyway. I'm hoping to make tons of money and pay off our taxes right away this year. You know, after paying off the ones from last year. (cough)

- We've got other things to pay for too.

- The fact that I'm a whiney cow for writing down everything that's making me unhappy, when really I'm very damn happy and have no right to be making a pissed list. Ha! That rhymed. See?

That Special Feeling

Really, there's nothing like having your own computer and sitting at it every day. I'm sure that you internet buffs realized this, but it has been a minor revelation to me tonight, as I finally retreated to my hole (the basement) and sat down in "my" chair. It's actually my parents' chair. It feels so nice. This is where I write my ideas down to share with you all. This is where I find the time to be inspired by random things on random websites. This is where the magic happens.

Don't worry, I'll make it happen more often. I didn't realize how much I missed it until now.

I quit smoking two days ago. Since then, I've had four cigarettes. It doesn't sound like a huge accomplishment to a lot of people, but for me it is. It's monumental.

In other news, I believe Linus is starting to become a food snob. He was clawing and chewing at the bag before his bowl was empty. Everyone hates a food snob.

Huck slept in bed with us last night, until about 7:30 AM, when it started getting light outside, and he decided that the time had come to fidget and lick my face and generally be very put out that we weren't waking up yet. Then he got put in his kennel until about 11:00, when I woke up.

The end.

Man, I need to do this more often. I can feel my brain emptying. Thanks for reading.

No Harm, No Foul

Earlier today I noticed that there was a beetle in our bathtub. This doesn't really bother me overmuch, because we haven't used our bathtub since roughly 1988, when my little brother graduated to taking showers. Sure, there were those years we used it as an impromptu laundry hamper (because walking three steps and throwing the clothes down the steps into a random pile is just too much work for teenagers), but really, it's been out of commission for almost twenty years. (Jesus Christ, I'm old.) So I decided to let the beetle have his way with the bathtub. No harm, no foul, right? Right.

[side note: For a few weeks now, I've been yelling at Huck for walking around by my computer and crunching on what I assumed were random pieces of the basement. Yesterday, I was doing some laundry down here and noticed that two of these beetles were in close proximity to my feet. The next thing I knew, there was a crunching noise, and I noticed that Huck had followed me down and was munching away at the bugs. Good boy!]

So naturally, being who I am and remembering the crunching, I began to feel a little sorry for the beetle in the bathtub, because unless it wants to crawl back into the drain (which, face it, probably isn't that appealing), it will have to live out the rest of it's meager life in the bathtub. And it hadn't moved in a while. Then I started thinking, no food, no water... It's like dying in a desert made of porcelain veneer. So I collected a few drops of water in my palm and dropped them near the bug, thinking that if it was dead it couldn't hurt anything, and if it was alive it couldn't scramble up the sides of the tub to kill me or anything.

Unfortunately Linus noticed me screwing around in there and jumped in to investigate.



Don't worry too much. Linus lost all interest when the bug stopped moving, as usual. I figure if the bug wants to die quick, he'll just move in front of the cat, and if he wants to live out his days in the porcelain desert, that's OK too. Or tomorrow I'll rescue it and take it outside. You know, whatever.