A lot, if your team is the awesomest. By this I mean the Tampa Bay Rays. And before ANY of you say something shitty about our team’s attendance, come to Florida. We have an amazing fan base for being such a young team, but guess what? Everyone here is from somewhere else. Our stadium is full when we play the Red Sox, but who didn’t show up for the last few games of the season when the Red Sox were biting it? So much for loyal fans. So you can take your criticism and stick it where the sun don’t shine. And by young team, I mean that when I was born, there was no team. In fact, Tropicana Field wasn’t even built. I was a kid when it was, and it was the Thunderdome then, and I remember this because I danced in the grand opening event. And then it housed the Tampa Bay Lighting. And now the Rays. Who used to be the Devil Rays, but some whacko priest made a stink a few years ago and managed to convince them to change the name. Whatever.
Today is the Rays opening day. I am currently watching it in between jobs instead of going to the gym, which I feel slightly guilty about, but not really that much.
So what does this have to do with cats?
We have two mascots. I’m not totally sure what Raymond is supposed to be, but our most recent addition is DJ KITTY.
Yeah. That’s fabulous. It started as a scoreboard gimmick, with a video of a cat in a Rays jersey DJing, because why not? DJ Kitty is now so popular that last year they made him an official mascot.
EFF YOU, REST OF BASEBALL! Call me when you’re as crazy cat lady-friendly as my hometown team.
Oh yeah, and we have the Cy Young Award winner. Ya got that, Yankees? Oh, and is your pitcher on the cover of MLB2K13? I think not.
GO RAYS! GO CATS!
Another April Fool’s Day is here, and with it brings a trove of companies trying to show the youth how “in touch” they are with them by making up random products and hoping enough people fall for it that they get some good viral marketing in. I suppose I can’t blame them for trying.
Cmon, Google Nose! Who were you trying to fool? The only way this one would have amused me would be if before you allowed people to “smell” things from the internet, you made them consent to putting their web cam on. Now THAT would be a joke I would get into. How many morons lean forward, close their eyes and try REALLY REALLY hard to smell a diaper? Post the stupidity. Then I’ll applaud you.
Among the jokes today was one that didn’t seem to get a lot of media coverage, but was the only one I mildly enjoyed, and only because there was a cat involved. Thank you, Sony, for not trying too hard. Simple really is sometimes the best way to go. This is the photo of a cat rocking out with a pair of M3-OW KittyCans. I even love the name they came up with. Again, simple. And cat-related.
From the fake press release:
“Now that there are more households with pets than with children, we are targeting pet owners who want to provide unique entertainment experiences for their furry, four-legged family members,” said Tom Barret, lead engineer for the Animalia line. “Sony is known for making products that enrich our lives, and the Animalia line was developed for domesticated animals who also naturally seek visual, music and emotional experiences.”
I think I probably post more pictures of Taco. This is not because he’s my favorite, it’s because he’s overly photogenic. Plus, he’s always in my face so he gets more picture opportunities, and he’s better than Moosh at not moving at the exact moment the picture is being taken. Also, Moosh, being all black, tends to end up looking like a black blob depending on what he’s laying on and the lighting.
So, because I had a hellish week that fried both my brain and my body (and because I’m extraordinarily lazy today), I’m not writing more than these introductory paragraphs and some captions. Instead, I bring you a tribute to my Boo Bear, the snuggly, perching elder son.
Fun lil fact about Freddy Mercury: he was a crazy cat lady. He wrote a song for one of his many, and even had a “waistcoat” (it looks like a vest to me, but what do I know?) painted with all of his cats.
What a lovely man. And thoroughly missed. They just don’t make music like that anymore.
I’m sure Mr. Mercury would not be all that pleased (or maybe he would, who knows) to learn that I like to use one of his songs as accompaniment to cat torture.
How did this start?
Try holding your cat.
If yours are anything like mine, they will struggle, as if they are saying “Let me gooooo!”
That’s where it starts. I’ll start singing this to them as I attempt to force their wriggling bodies to sit on my lap.
“Mamma mia, mamma mia, mamma mia let me go”
“NO! I will not let you go! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!”
This goes on until I’m sick of this particular exchange. As my cats are named Taco and Moosh, it’s only right that I use their names here:
Taco Moosh, Taco Moosh, can you do the fandango? THUNDERBOLTS OF LIGHTNING VERY VERY FRIGHTENING EEE!
In addition to my various other obsessions (e.g. Lil Bub, Words With Friends, Grey’s Anatomy, finding my million dollar idea), I love Pinterest. I kind of scoffed at the whole “Pinterest” thing when a few of my crafty friends told me about it early on, but I wish I’d listened to them then. Pinterest is a freaking WEALTH of information and good ideas. Holy crap. I have discovered SO many amazing things, and even tried them. There’s even a blog, Pintesting (tag line: fucking up pinterest pins so you don’t have to) about testing various Pinterest things, which is pretty damn funny. I have a friend who burned her hair trying a curling tutorial but I think so far I’ve had a good run. I have discovered the most AMAZING bath and sink cleaner, and there’s 3 ingredients. No scrubbing. You can check it out here, I would suggest looking at the rest of this blog too, because there are other really good ideas. You spray, let it sit for 15 minutes and then sponge it off. I’ve found it’s easier with a brush in the tub, though. But it works amazingly, which is good because our water is so hard it might as well be diamonds.
I’ve found some kickass recipes, although I can’t personally vouch for them because they’re all meat-filled ones that I made for the boyfriend (and for my friend at work, who I started taking portions to because the boyfriend gets sick of leftovers and also refuses to eat them after 3 days, but my friend will gladly accept and appreciate) but the consensus on everything so far is that the food was MWAH. Disclaimer: while I do follow the recipes, I tend to not measure EXACTLY and I add my own touches, so if your pinterest recipes suck, don’t blame me.
I also learned how to make a pouf with a ponytail, which I’m still trying to perfect, but it’s not half bad.
Also learned how to make smoky eyes, although they look better than this picture does them justice. I’m no amateur with makeup (my best friend is practically an artist and in the 16 years we’ve been friends, I’ve picked up a few things), but I thought I’d try it out and it was awesome! A slight exercise in frustration for me because my eyes are shaped differently so I can’t ever make them look the same no matter what I do. Thanks, genetics.
And then, there’s cats. So many cats.
I did join a group board, “Meow” for a few days but there were so many people posting on it, all I could see in my feed was cat stuff. This might sounds crazy, but I DO try to have other interests. And on top of the kitties I find through pinterest searching or seeing what my other cat-crazy friends pin, I have a place to neatly organize my internet cat craziness. This is fabulous. I’m a 21st century crazy cat lady.
And I really need to buy that “I F*CKING LOVE CATS” shirt. So I can alternate with my new Lil Bub shirt, of course.
I’m no stranger to cats who like bathrooms. Our last kitten Jager used to sit on the toilet seat while I showered (creepy or no?). But recently Moosh has gotten a wild hair and become a creature of the bathroom. I keep my bathroom door closed because my counters are cluttered with makeup that I don’t feel like picking up off the floor every day (but I do anyway because I don’t have enough counter space for all my crap, way to give the boyfriend the bathroom with the giant counter, dumbass) so I suppose it’s kind of foreign land to him. But he’s been here for almost 5 years. The mystery should be over. The boyfriend’s bathroom, in our bedroom, is always open because there’s a shitbox in it. One Moosh never uses. The downstairs half bath, we keep that closed off too, because I would run into the door probably twice a day, and who wants guests to stare at your toilet?
So this new thing with Moosh. I realized it had become a permanent trend last night as I was in the downstairs bathroom doing my business, and I see a paw snake through the crack of the door, a black blur runs in and immediately jumps onto the counter. I sat there taking pictures (after I finished my business, of course, sorry for the mental picture, unless you like that sort of thing, in which case please stop reading my blog, you’re a weirdo) as he explored the countertop chock full of magical wonders. Like a sink. WTF.
Oh, and the flash of the camera REALLY got him interested, because his other weird quirk is loving moving light.
He’s also taken to jumping in my tub, although not while I’m in it. I’ll be doin’ up my face (what, you think I’m this gorgeous without help? I am, really. I just cover the wrinkles.) when I feel a slight rush of air on my calves. I don’t hear him, I don’t see him, but all of a sudden he’s in the tub. Just poking around.
He won’t come out until I come out of the bathroom.
Every once in awhile, when he can’t be found, he’s in the boyfriend’s tub. No apparent reason. Not sleeping. Again, just poking around. Not even licking the water. Just, you know, wanting to see what’s up.
This is all fairly new. Is he having some sort of midlife crisis? I would worry if it seemed sick-like but he just seems to be curious. He’s always been a curious cat, including some seared whiskers when he got too curious with a candle, but I would think his kitten curiosity would have worn off by now.
My only conclusion is that I have a very, very weird cat. Maybe HE needs to be on that strange addiction show.
So far, I’m enjoying my first day of mini vacation, although the boyfriend woke me up at 6:30 to tell me I was supposed to be at work, then remembered that I was off and apologized, but I was only half asleep at that point anyway, since I had to pee and Moosh, the good son, has an incredibly astute sense of when Mommy has to pee so he purposefully (I swear, he only does it when I have to pee) steps on my bladder. I slept in till 7. This is ok, it’s better than 5:30, and to boot, I didn’t have to get dressed. I’ve been lounging around reading all morning (I turned on the TV for a bit but all the morning shows have crap about the Pope and as a recovering Catholic, NOT INTERESTED) except for some playtime with the kitties and coughing fits.
This sickness has a give and take relationship. Sure, the first few days I felt too icky to do anything, but “anything” included eating so it’s not as if I needed to work out. Now I’ve graduated to having my appetite back but I can’t really taste anything so as long as its warm, I’ll eat it, so I’m going with healthy options. Why waste tasty food on the tasteless? I vaguely considered working out this morning but I am afraid that the other gym-goers will rise up and kick my coughing ass out of there, even if I point out to them that I cover my mouth and that I’m not really sick anymore, it’s just the remnants working their mucus-y way out. However, I realized this morning that my abs are REALLY FREAKING SORE. I mean, “I took 5 pilates classes in a row” sore. This leads me to assume that I am burning MASSIVE amounts of calories coughing, and I might even get a 6-pack out of the deal! Now I’m thinking being sick isn’t SO bad. I’m not an eternal optimist, but I am a hopeful realist, so really, looking at the bright sides of crappy situations is just like a contingency plan.
As for the title of this post, I had an epiphany this morning, after a particularly productive coughing session. I felt like I’d accomplished something. I felt a little lighter. A little freer. And then I realized: THAT is how the kitties feel after the litter box. THAT is why they do the poop run. I would have done a lugie (is that how you spell it? Is that even a real word?) run except I thought that would make me cough more and therefore ruin the effects of the mucus expunging.
I can relate anything to anyone with an analogy. I love them.
The cat tree got here safely. It was a 70 pound box, so I’m sure my UPS guy loves me. I DO have to work with the guy, after all, and he knows where I live. Sorry, Aaron. You chose this life.
Enough about Big Brown. I got home from work early last night and starting pulling the straps off (we call them “hub snakes” in the business. Insider knowledge. Easy to trip on.) and pulling all the pieces out. The boyfriend looked at me like I was crazy and said “Really? You’re going to do that now? I’ll do it this weekend.” But I was determined, and he is not to be trusted putting things together because he forgets that things are made too cheaply for his high construction standards and ends up tightening things to the point of breaking. Besides, I like putting things together. And the boyfriend has a sinus infection, which I told him he had before he went to the doctor, but NO ONE listens to me. He never gets sick. I get sick twice a year, every year, and my sinuses ALWAYS hate me. I had a minor nosebleed all day Monday. This bitch knows sinuses.
I digress, as usual. He retired upstairs as I cracked a beer and got to checking out the instructions while the cats inspected the box it came in, plus the styrofoam. I inspected each piece while I pondered starting. Then I decided that I did not, in fact, feel like putting that shit together.
So I piled things (appropriately, so the cats don’t knock piles over and hurt themselves), spilled my beer, then also retired upstairs where the sick boyfriend and I watched Tosh.O and I laughed.
Sorry kitties. I worked all day. Slaving over a hot desk so you could eat. You can wait.
They don’t care. They just want food anyway.
I don’t usually watch those “Strange Addiction” shows because they’re essentially just freak shows on TV. I suppose my logic is flawed since I watch Jersey Shore, but watching people who most likely have mental issues is not my cup of tea. The other night, though, I did watch one episode. One, because there was a couple from Tampa on there and I was curious, and two, because the other featured addiction was this lady who ate cat hair. The couple from Tampa was odd, they’re addicted to coffee enemas. If you don’t know what that is, you’re not missing out. Apparently they’re supposed to have some major health benefits but I’d rather not find out. Anyway, you’re not supposed to spend 5 hours a day doing coffee enemas even if you DO believe in their health benefits. But they did. I don’t know where they find the time.
But this other lady, she was a normal (well, normal for me, she had a bunch of tattoos and looked like she was into punk or some other alternative genre) lady with cats. I didn’t have my entire attention on the show the whole time so forgive me if I don’t get the story just right, but it was something like one of her cats became ill, and while the cat was being nursed back to health, she started licking the cat as a mother cat would do to a kitten. I’m not sure if she read this was supposed to help the cat recover or feel more comfortable, but I assume so. I tried googling but I lost interest after two different search term attempts. Anyway, she decided she really liked the feel of the cat hair in her mouth, so she started eating it. She says now she finds clumps of fur, checks to see if they’re clean (how the HELL do you know if a clump of fur is clean? I’d really like to know the criteria on that) and then chews and eats it. Says she enjoys the texture, it’s like eating cotton. Um, who likes eating cotton?
Personally, I’m very annoyed when I get cat hair in my mouth. Particularly after I’ve just put on a coat of sticky lip gloss. Ugh. I’ll do a lot of weird things for my cats. I love them to death. They’re my children. And I know a lot of people don’t understand what *I* do. But eating cat hair is NOT going to make me feel closer to my cats. Petting them will suffice just fine. I didn’t watch the end so I don’t know if she got professional help for this addiction, but I sincerely hope so, because I imagine it has less to do with loving her cats (which I have no doubt that she does) than it does with some sort of unhealthy compulsion.
So please, if you saw that show and think that all self-proclaimed crazy cat ladies are indeed that crazy, we are not.
I suppose that it’s not so much that I’m lazy, because I work two jobs, and by definition alone I think that makes me un-lazy. But this week has been kind of a rough one (nothing horrible, just busy busy busy) so on my off time, which isn’t much, I’ve been a slug. So no posts, because that involves thinking, and I’ve had to do far too much of that this week.
Even the cats haven’t done anything interesting. They’ve been their annoying selves, no more, no less.
Moosh kind of has a new thing. It’s not really NEW-new, but he’s doing it now more consistently. He’ll wait outside the bathroom or the bedroom in a spot you wouldn’t really notice him, e.g. on towels on the floor waiting to be washed (they were used earlier in the week to sop up an out of control foaming dishwasher. We thought it was broken until the boyfriend discovered that he’d used dishwashing soap instead of dishwasher detergent. Same brand, and the soap is in a different container than it used to be, he just grabbed and used. Had to shop vac out the suds and rinse with olive oil. Yup, that’s what works. So proud of him. He googled all this himself!) and on top of the scanner on the bookcase attached to the desk (think I’ve talked about this spot before). But anyway, when you walk out and don’t notice him, which you won’t, because he’s black and blends in with every piece of clothing that I have, he meows with the head nod like “Hey. What up?” I think he’s kinda gangsta.
That’s a lovely segue into the only other interesting thing from this week. My newest million dollar idea. This is a good one. I’m going to be a rapper. The fact that I’m not really sure if I can rap is besides the point, I have an awesome rap name. Double C L. Crazy Cat Lady. It doesn’t even matter if you have talent these days, it’s all about the gimmick, and BAM! That’s a good one. So far, only a few of my girl friends think this is a great idea, I asked some of the black guys I work with and they think I’m crazy. I assume ADORABLY crazy. Apparently I’m going to have to market to white chicks. So what if I don’t have a booty? Part of the gimmick. If I can get washboard abs ever, I’ll get MEOW tattooed on my stomach in old english. WHAT WHAT! Weezy ain’t got nothin’ on me. Except, um, money, producers, a codeine habit. Beyotch, I got a kitty habit. Ooh! First rap, right there.
This idea will probably go down with all the others, but at the very least, it’s amused me while being lazy.
I will end this post with lyrics from 2 Chainz. Because he’s awesome.
“Me and my ^#%# pass your ho like a hot potato
I be like you could get her, he be like you could get her
I be like you could have her, he be like you could have her
He be like, it don’t matter, I be like, me neither”