Still a bad blogger.
Eek. Sorry. I’ve been spending a lot of time expanding my design abilities. So without further adieu, I present:
“Kitty With Mommy”
No, this isn’t ALL I’ve done. But I like it. And it’s cat-related, so I’m sharing.
Whoa. Been too long, eh?
I have a lot of excuses as to why I haven’t written a post in awhile. Work’s been super busy. It’s football season. Most importantly, the cats have been oddly…uninteresting.
I dislike excuses, although I am the biggest justifier you’ll ever meet. So I will not blame my non-writing on any of those things. Basically, I’ve been lazy.
So what’s new with me? The cats are still cats. The boyfriend is still the boyfriend. My fantasy football team is taking a dump as usual. Oh, the Bucs won 3 in a row. That was quite the pleasant surprise. Thanksgiving went well. I’m already procrastinating buying x-mas presents.
The weather is the biggest variable at the moment. I finally got out my “winter” clothes a few weeks ago and I have yet to wear any. It’s been cold (by Florida standards) I think a total of 2 days. I wore shorts today.
It IS having an effect on the cats. They’ve been very loud. One of them (read: Taco) knocked a cupcake off the cooling rack while we were at a football game. Cats have no business with cupcakes. WTF, cat?
So that’s the short and long of it. Maybe I should stop being so lazy and get back to my regular posts. We’ll see…
Lazy and long.
Furry luff on a ruff week.
Some days, the cats make me want to leave home.
And some days, I luff them more than I can bear.
My kitty snuggle tonight is better than a beer. Cheers, Moosh Moosh.
My boo.
Smelly cat, smelly cat, what are they feeding youuuuuu
We have 3 litterboxes. Both cats prefer just one. That one happens to be the one in the living area, conveniently located next to the open-concept kitchen.
I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that this can make for some uncomfortable living circumstances. Even if I IMMEDIATELY place the poop in the Litter Genie (which is AHH-MAY-ZING), the potent smell of poo lingers. And lingers. And for some reason, my cats’ shit seems to be of the extra smelly variety. Adding to that is the airflow in the house, which somehow manages to disperse the disgusting aroma to all areas, even upstairs.
I’ve tried baking soda in the box. I’ve tried kitty probiotics. And my most recent foray into eliminating the foul odors emanating from my boys’ “outbox,” I bought a package of “Stool Deodorizer” treats. All-natural, of course.
Well, that was a disappointment. They might work. I wouldn’t really know because I can’t get my little brats to eat them. Moosh refuses them outright, while Taco can be tricked into kind of eating one by stacking another regular treat on top of it. I even tried burying them in the food. Moosh ate all around it and Taco left most. I hate them sometimes.
Anyone know how air purifiers work? Do they take out smells? If they don’t, the name is misleading, as a smell is really just TINY LITTLE MOLECULES of an aromatic object drifting into your nostril where it is received as a smell so in theory if the air is truly being purified, it would remove the tiny physical molecules of poo from the air. Are you disgusted yet? I’m gonna go vomit now.
So cute for being such a foul beast.
Cats and cars. A comparison.
You may not think that cats and cars have ANYTHING to do with each other whatsoever, save for being one letter different. You’d be wrong. See, they’re both money pits.
You know the old adage, “when it rains, it pours” – I’ve found this to be true about both.
Let’s start with cats.
Why are you in the shower? What’s wrong with you?
Most of the time, my boys are healthy and thriving. However, I know that we’re always one sneeze/puke/bloody poop away from a vet visit. Something that is absolutely essential is to have a vet you can trust and ask a bazillion questions to and get informative answers without even a hint of an eyeroll. Someone you truly believe has your babies’ best interests at heart. I have one. This being said, while I do believe veterinarians should be paid handsomely for the work they do, my wallet says otherwise. The bills add up and up, even if you have an excellent vet who is honest about whether certain procedures are necessary. If you’re a worrier like me, you tend to fall on the cautious side and get the tests that are maybe 55% necessary, “just in case.” Then you walk out with a giant bill, and presumably, a healthy cat. Or, like me, you could go in for a simple checkup and walk out with the knowledge that one cat’s pupil is markedly larger than the other, possibly indicating a problem (this requires more tests, of course, and if I really wanted to get serious, a visit to the CAT EYE DOCTOR). It’s never just one thing. And lets not forget the constant maintenance of cat food, which seems to be getting more and more expensive.
Now onto cars.
That’s my hunk o’ metal golddigger right there as seen through jungle foliage. If you’d like to know what my bumper magnets are, one is a sad kitty face that says “Republicans Hate Kittens” (and they never seem to get the joke) and “There’s no excuse for animal abuse” – because there isn’t. I don’t know why I blurred out the license plate. It’s what they do on TV. But now that I think about it, thousands of people a day see my license plate when I’m driving, so it’s not exactly a secret.
Unless you have a brand spankin’ new car with a fancy warranty (in which case you’d also have a large car payment and the headache of the immediate depreciation driving off the lot), you have car problems. Having a trusted mechanic in your arsenal is equally as essential as having a trusted vet (I have one of these, too, and I went through a LOT of mechanics before finding Sam, who’s my godsend). Especially if you have a Volvo, which is like having a cat with special needs (okay, that’s a BIT of a stretch, but work with me here). Yesterday I went in for a new headlamp assembly (used, actually – new was a bazillion dollars) because a rock or a BB gun put a nice lil hole in the one I had. And a new hood latch, because the boyfriend broke it opening the hood to look at the headlight assembly when the hole was noticed. While I was there, I discussed having him fix a very slow oil leak that I’d been able to put off because of the very slowness of it. I’d recently noticed more oil where I park my car so I figured it was time. As he pulled my car out, there was a puddle of oil. NOT SO SLOW ANYMORE. So we bumped up that appointment. When I left, I noticed my dashboard light indicating a light out was still on. Brake light, this time. Oh, and my tires are bare. AND it’s almost time for timing belt replacement. And like the constant supply of cat food that’s needed, the car requires a constant influx of gas.
So I’ve come to the conclusion that I basically work to support my cats and my car. Neither of them appreciate it.
The graveyard of uninteresting cat toys.
Ya’ll know what I’m talking about. The toys we so excitedly buy on a whim, imagination filled with visions of kitty splendor…only to be ignored entirely, not even worthy of being batted under a couch. In a twist of irony, in fact, the BEST toys get batted under the couch. I feel like these toys can never be found when you’re looking for them, but turn up in a giant stash under sometime that you only clean under once a year and then think “Oh, so THIS is where they all went!” BUT. When you look in this place at a later date to find what you now think is the honey hole of missing favorite toys, you find nary a one.
The basket of unwanted toys. Toy Story 9 Lives? I gotta call Pixar.
This rant is brought to you courtesy of an impulse clearance rack buy at PetSmart today. I only stopped in there to see if I could find a replacement wavy chaise longue (1. it’s really nothing like a chaise longue, it’s just a carpeted wave shape thing but the cats lie on it like I imagine I would on a chaise longue and 2. yes, I am spelling “chaise longue” correctly, it’s not “chaise lounge” as most people pronounce it – fact of the day) but alas, it was $30. Since I’ve never spent more than $20 on one, I refused to buy one for ten dollars more today, even if Moosh is out of a seat since Taco always shoves him out of the way to take the one remaining one. See, we HAD two, only someone’s fat ass broke one.
The two waves in happier times…
Now there’s one, and Taco keeps puking on the sisal part (ever tried to clean puke out of woven sisal?).
There I go again, wandering away from the point. The POINT is that I ended up buying some sort of natural treats that are supposed to “deodorize” your cats’ shit. Considering that the boyfriend and I actually send each other texts to warn of impending poop smells, I would have paid a small fortune for them, but to my delight they were only SIX DOLLARS! This, to me, was worth standing in line for. It was in this line that I discovered the clearance rack. For a mere 2 something I could have a TREAT DISPENSER.
It’s even creepy looking. What was I thinking?
I don’t know what I thought this was, but it seemed cheap, and the cats like treats, so why not?
Yeah. No. This is what it does: you put treats in it. You wind it up. Put it on the ground. It spins a few times. Scares the cats. Spits out a few treats. Stops. Cats stare. Notice treats. Hesitantly walk toward them. Eat them. Ignore the spinny thing.
I hate the brilliance of whomever discovered these impulse lanes. I know that the grocery stores have employed such tactics for years, but only recently stores have discovered that putting in a veritable MAZE of goodies and calling it a “checkout line” is highly profitable. Forever 21, Marshalls, PetSmart…I hate you.
What I learned at the flea market.
My mom has a bookstore at a flea market. She’s been building her business there from a few tables in a stall to a full-out, serious booklover paradise. I spent a lot of time there, as I was not to be trusted on my own (at least until teenage years, which, ironically, should have been the least trusted) and I was free labor.
I don’t go out there anymore as much as I should, but I did meet up with some friends out there today.
Flea markets are magical.
I didn’t buy anything except for a few beers and a pair of men’s underwear that are far better utilized as around-the-house booty shorts (they have MEN written on the waistband in case there’s any confusion). We had a lovely time in the most random “dollar store” ever, featuring a vast array of items including stress reliever balls shaped like boobs. I suppose there’s a market for that if you don’t have your own. Personally, I’ve never used my own that way, but maybe I’m missing out.
I’m not sure who needs to store their beer bottles individually and out of the fridge, but whomever does, this is an AWFULLY stylish way to do it.
Aside from the girl time and fulfilling the real reasons we were there (to get plants for my friend, visiting my dear mother and checking out/giving the DIRTIEST LOOKS EVER to her competition), I made some observations based on the merchandise offered as well.
- People who go to the flea market like cats. The majority of cat items were knick-knacky figurines, but there were also offerings of t-shirts and car magnets with horribly distorted illustrations.
- Cat people only like knick-knacky figurines, cat t-shirts and car magnets with horribly distorted illustrations but don’t need any actual products for their cat. Although there were a bazillion places with dog and bird (really? birds?) supplies, there was only one place with dubious-looking Temptations cat treats.
- People who go to the flea market like beer. This includes me. Beer made the heat bearable. The majority of the 21+ population walking around had a beer in hand. Sorry to my friends who do not normally imbibe such a pedestrian beer as Bud Light, but that’s like my heaven. Good sports, you girls are!
- Flea market vendors are too pushy. This does not include my mother, oddly enough. No sir, I do not want to buy your fake Versace necklace that’s “discounted” 85% down to $25. I only pointed it out to my friends to laugh about. And that thing I said about it being too big for my tastes? That was supposed to be a nice way of me saying “I’d never buy that” – not an opening for you to offer up a smaller version.
- You will find things you didn’t know you needed, both at prices that are laughably large (the WORST drawing of a Bucs’ helmet I’ve ever seen, signed by every member of one of the worst Bucs teams ever to play…not sure of the year but I know it was bad because I spotted Vinny Testeverde’s autograph on it…for $500) and so cheap you’d be a FOOL not to buy them.
I made some other observations, but they’re probably pretty rude. Anyway, I had a good time plus I remembered how much I love the flea market and although I didn’t bring my mom any business, I felt supportive and good-daughtery, and what’s better than that?
Voice recognition software.
I could google this, but for the sake of this post, I’ll allow my curiosity to fester.
“This” is the phenomenon of my cats seemingly recognizing my (and maybe the boyfriend’s) voice. I know that I’ve read that cats respond better to women’s voices, something about the tone. Moosh and Taco seem like they respond to our voices, particularly by their names. Taco is less of a sure thing, he just talks all the time, and to whatever variation of his name we use. But he at least looks like he knows that he’s being talked to. Moosh, on the other hand, knows his name like the back of his paw. Maybe it’s just the tone that we say it in, or the way that “Moosh Moosh” sounds. Saying it sometimes gets him all worked up, like I’m petting him without actually petting him. He’ll close his eyes, purr, and look like he’s in ecstacy.
He’s a happy boy.
It’s funny what you discover from years of co-existing with your animals. How you can figure out what their triggers are. Why do they have the triggers they do?
The best response I can get from Moosh is by shaking my head back and forth while saying his name in a deep, cooing voice. He’ll come running almost every time. Unless he gets distracted.
Taco’s ultimate call-over involves more energy. He responds best to an excited voice. Less coo-ey, more OMG, but still in a deeper voice. He gets all jacked up and runs over. If I’m laying down, combining that with patting my chest plate loudly will get him up and on my stomach purring.
This is what happens when you’re bored and have too many apps.
So…am I crazy? Does anyone else know quirks this intimate about their furry children or do I just look waaaaaay too far into things?
Eating habits.
Funny how we all have our own thing when it comes to food. I personally have a love/hate relationship with it, as it makes me fat. The funny thing is, I’m a SUPER picky eater and vegan, so in theory, it shouldn’t. But it does. For 9 weeks straight I’ve been hitting the gym regularly and not drinking beer during the week and watched the scale crawl up 1 pound at a time, and it’s maddening. I wish that I could just view food as fuel and not, you know, want it. The boyfriend has the metabolism of a…um…something that has a fast metabolism. He eats whatever he wants and remains super skinny. I hate that. I was almost thankful for a stomach bug earlier this week that made me very unhungry for a few days.
But enough about me, this is about the cats. Moosh is looking pretty hefty these days. I know he’s not as active as Taco, which is fine, but he’s also the one who gets pushed out of his own food because Captain Stuffmyface already finished his and wants to hijack his brother’s. Which, in turn, leaves me with a very whiny kitty half an hour later when Moosh discovers that he has not, in fact, had enough to eat. So then I have to feed him again, and try to keep Taco away. Taco, despite eating two helpings, gained exactly one ounce in the year between vet visits. Go figure.
It’s empty because you let your brother eat all the food, dodo.
I wonder where picky eating comes from. I know I drove my parents crazy as a kid, because I was the only person on the face of the planet who didn’t like pizza, I refused to eat onions, and although I eventually came around to both of those, I still dislike mushrooms. It’s a texture thing. Moosh has been picky from the start. He doesn’t particularly care for wet food, and I went through a ton of brands of dry until he finally decided he liked one. Then Taco had to go on the crap prescription food, and fortunately, Moosh was ok with that, because it seemed like the organic food I was feeding both of them made Taco puke. Seriously, he is a beast of a puker. I have to give him Pepcid. So Moosh likes the crap food most. And he won’t even eat real turkey. Taco, on the other hand, will even eat TOFUrkey. So where does this all start? Is it in our genes or is it learned?
It’s National Dance Day!
Despite taking my fair share of dance classes as a child, I don’t claim to be an amazing dancer (but this girl’s got RHYTHM. Srsly.)
I like to pretend I can dance, anyway. I even have real ballet slippers for when I feel like REALLY faking it. Around the house. I’ve always wanted to take pole dancing classes. Despite the stigma attached to stripping, I actually find it to be an entrancing form of dance.
And then there’s the fun dancing. I adore plopping one of the kitties in my lap, taking his arms and sing the “Bird bird bird, bird is the word” song and making them dance. Torture? Maybe. Although the look on their faces is usually one of “I’m going to puke on your shoes later,” I know they secretly enjoy it. Look at this cat dance. Cat. I’m a kitty cat. And I dance dance dance and I dance dance dance. See? Love it.
He dances!
I DO have a favorite playlist of dance songs, of which I will share some in hopes it will entice someone to shake their booty.
- The Romantics – What I Like About You
- Justin Timberlake – Suit and Tie
- Robin Thicke – Blurred Lines
- Tyga – Do My Dance (this one is way dirty, so obviously that makes me like it more)
- Ice Cube – You Can Do It
- The Ting Tings – Shut Up and Let Me Go
- Orishas – Orishas Llego (Cuban rap, but it’s so smooth! I like to pretend I know how to samba. Rumba?)
In conclusion, I urge everyone to turn up the volume on whatever it is you listen to and get down like you’re Jennifer Beals. Who cares who’s watching?
MEOW hear this! 