May 18, 2013

Unlazy, uncat day.

My caturday was spent, for the most part, without cats.

I know. This is shocking. Usually I spend my Caturdays lazing around the house, lamenting about how I’m too lazy to do anything. Recovering from my week. But this Caturday is special. For you see, I’m on vacation. Kind of. I am officially out of service where Big Brown in concerned all the way until after Memorial Day! WHEEEE! And to boot, I have an official WORK-FREE 5-day vacation starting at 3pm Wednesday!

It’s a lot easier to be unlazy when you know that you have more available lazy time in your future.

So today, I exerted myself. EXERTED! My friend and I rented bikes and rode around St. Pete. We oogled over old houses we can’t afford and took some beachy scenic routes. My friend loves history, so she didn’t seem to mind my stories (St. Pete is my hometown, so I spent a great deal of time saying “Well, THAT wasn’t there before”). Or the heat. I even sunscreened myself effectively, although possibly TOO effectively, because I don’t appear to have a tan. Which is probably good, because I don’t ride in my bathing suit (shocking, right?) and would have had some wretched tan lines, but I did want a LITTLE glow.

Despite the fact that neither of us had been on bikes in a rather long time, there were no injuries. Apparently “just like riding a bike” is quite the accurate metaphor. However, hills are another story, and so are bike seats. Now, I am not a skinny girl. I wouldn’t be skinny even if I starved myself. But I have a white girl butt. It’s fat and flat. Despite the flatness, there’s plenty of padding. It was useless.

And about the hills…there’s really no “hills” to speak of. Most of Pinellas county is under sea level. Perhaps “slight inclines” would be a better description. And these weren’t even too bad…until we stopped for lunch. With beer. It was noticeably more difficult to pedal after lunch. This could be attributed to the fact that we’d already been riding a few hours, or because we took a break from it. I liken it to getting a tattoo…you never want to take a break. Get it all done at once. If you stop, it hurts like a bitch upon restarting. But beer can’t possibly be detrimental, right?

Anyway, it was a lovely day. We were both so amazed that we made plans, kept them, AND the weather held out that we talked mostly about how amazed we were.

I didn’t see any cats. But I saw a lot of boats. Including catamarans. And after the 2nd catamaran we saw with a cat paw print in the name, it occurred to me that it was because they were CATamarans. So you see, I had a Caturday after all! IT ALL COMES AROUND TO CATS.

So here’s my day, in picture form.

It all started with this amazing bike. I immediately commented on this bike when we walked in, so I knew it would be a good day when it ended up being one of the two that were left to rent. HELLO AWESOME!

This is a lovely beach. But you don’t wanna swim in it. This is Tampa Bay water. Not as, um, clean. You wanna go to the gulf side. But it’s still pretty!

It’s named MEOW. Teehee!

This is the view from the restaurant where we stopped for lunch/beer. It’s my favoritest airport in the entire world, because it’s where my dad used to fly me around from when I was a kid. Ah, nostalgia.

May 12, 2013

Happy Mother’s Day to ME.

Yep. It’s that day again. The day we all celebrate our moms. And deservedly so. The mothers of the world do so much for us (and put up with a lot of brats like me). I appreciate my mommy every day of the year, except, of course, when I’m trying to get off the phone with her. This is a common mom thing, I hear. I think there’s a secret school for it somewhere. You have to start at least 15 minutes before you absolutely HAVE to get off the phone.

But enough about that. I know I posted something like this last year on Mother’s Day, but it’s worth saying again.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY TO THE KITTY MOMMIES!

My oldest.

You’re underappreciated. Especially those of you with special needs kitties. It’s not often understood why someone would take on caring for a pet who needs so much help. I really want to punch people who think that animals with problems should just be “put down” because after all, “they’re just animals.” One of these days, I probably WILL punch someone for saying that. And I’ll be ok with it.

One of my fellow bloggers has a paraplegic cat. I admire the hell out of her for it. It warms my heart that there ARE people out there who don’t need to be punched. On the newest episode of My Cat From Hell, the trouble cat had a neurological disorder that made it positively heartbreaking to watch him attempt to walk. And only one eye. But he had someone that took him in and gave him the life he couldn’t have gotten on his own, or maybe even with another caretaker who wouldn’t have had the patience to love and care for him. And despite the fact that he was hell-bent on tormenting the other cat, she never in a million years would give up her baby.

He thinks he’s king.

Taco is vaguely special needs. He also has a neurological disorder (that makes him pee where he’s not supposed to when he has a flare-up), but it’s not life-threatening and while it wears my patience extremely thin sometimes, I wouldn’t trade him for the world. He’s my baby. So is Moosh Moosh, despite being what I’m pretty sure can only be described as “a little slow.” I love them just as hard as I would love my own flesh and blood.

So. To the responsible, loving, amazing cat moms — *I* appreciate you. And I’m giving myself a little pat on the back today, too. Because we deserve it.

My babies. They sometimes fill my heart with joy.

May 11, 2013

I’ve been neglecting you.

I’ve been really sucking on the “writing new posts” thing lately. I don’t think this is because my cats have magically become well-behaved and wonderful. They have not. But I’ve been busy working and when I’m not, I’ve been too tired to use my brain.

My brain’s not working that well today, either, so I’ll just take you through pictorials of my Caturday.

I tried to sleep in, but my kitty alarm clock (that’s Taco) had other ideas. Moosh, bless his little heart, just stood on my laptop that was on the dresser and creepily watched us sleep.

Oh hai. Don’t mind me.

Then I ran errands. I put back a crapload at Ulta, as it was, I spent a fortune on just the things I went there to buy. WHY ARE GOOD PRODUCTS SO EXPENSIVE?

Made a stop at the dollar store. Saw some really interesting things.

This is just weird. It looks like the cat is trying to escape the bag.

Why anyone would feed their cats food from the dollar store is beyond me. For that matter, the human food didn’t look much more appetizing.

Clam strips. Heh. I could make a juvenile joke here.

Then I spent the rest of my day sitting on my ass with the boyfriend, who also sat on his ass. Bitching about the things we SHOULD have been doing. To my credit, I DID at least start the laundry, mainly because I have a lovely white sweatshirt with cat puke on it. Taco is such a joy.

What were the cats doing through all of this?

He’s so effin’ cute.

Sleeping, of course. God forbid they miss THEIR beauty rest.

We’d lock Taco out of the bedroom at night but he’d just claw at it, which is really more disturbing than the “wake-up-feed-me” meow. I wish someone made a white noise machine that counteracted bratty felines.

May 5, 2013

Not all the brats have fur…

Newsflash: This morning, the cats DID NOT WAKE ME UP.

The boyfriend did. At 6:30. To tell me he fed the cats. THANKS HONEY.

And people wonder why I don’t want kids. I have 3.

Speaking off, the furry ones are certainly full of vim and vigor today. They’re chasing each other around the house and chirping at things I can’t see at the sliding glass door.

And playing with the Sunday paper.

Everything’s a toy.

Sigh.

So I’m getting out of the house. It’s a little windy for a beach day, but it’s cloudless and lovely and I’m going to have some bestie time with my favorite gal while getting brown (or sunburned, which is more likely, despite careful application of sunscreen).

Happy Sunday, ya’ll!

Update:

In true Polish fashion, I celebrated by first sun of the year with a sunburn, despite careful application of 15spf OceanPotion Gel (this is sincerely the best sunscreen I have ever used, yet it’s impossible to find. You have to scrape it off in the shower later but it STICKS. I just miss spots. It’s just one of those stupid things I do, I miss streaks of skin somehow. And yes, I know that 15 is shitty, but I like being tan, and I started getting my skin cancer checks last year, since I live in Florida and all. And I wear 30 on my face.)

It doesn’t look that bad, but it is for a stark white Pollack.

May 3, 2013

This is why we can’t have anything nice.

As I’ve mentioned before, I love Pinterest. I also love HGTV. I don’t own my own house and I have very little to no sense when it comes to decorating, but I like to pretend I do by looking at pretty pictures and imagining I could do that.

Then I had an epiphany.

I can’t.

Because I have cats.

Pure effin’ evil.

As I sat there looking at the 834579348st picture of a well-decorated room with vases holding large feather-like things perched precariously atop a tall, thin “table,” I realized that THESE PEOPLE DON’T HAVE FUCKING CATS.

I can’t even buy a LAMP without thinking “Ok. Will the cats knock this over?” I mean, I found this fabulous one where the lampshade was hanging sequins but after I got over my initial “OOOOHHHHHHH WANT THAT” I immediately thought “Nope. Cat toys.”

THEY RUIN EVERYTHING.

So much to knock over here! AND IT’S ON WHEELS! Movable destruction.

All of my design choices are based on THEM. I have no plants in my house. I have herbs on my front porch so they don’t eat them, but some other animal does and then I forget to water them because they’re outside and I’m not constantly reminded.

If the boyfriend thoughtfully buys me flowers for any sort of occasion, I have to either take them to work with me or proudly display them in my bathroom.

Yup. These are in my bathroom. Right next to my toothbrush.

NOTHING is off limits to them. NOTHING.

April 28, 2013

I hate crying.

I watched My Cat From Hell last night.

Spoiler alert: The cat had cancer. Why don’t ya throw me for a loop there, Jackson? CRY CITY.

In honor of the lovely lady who had such a big heart that she took in this stray feral cat that for two years did nothing but eat and hide and strike at her, I am going to ignore the fact that Taco woke me up yesterday with a well-placed paw on a sore ab muscle and focus on how lucky I am to be in a position to have rescued the kitties that I have and that my boys give me love and affection (for the most part) in return.

I also don’t have much else to write about today, so this is a picture tribute.

Oh, and the kitty got surgery that removed all the cancer and with Jackson’s help, he even got domesticized enough to let the lady pet him. Hopefully that road continues to be a rewarding one for her. You go, girl. And props to the husband, who didn’t really understand her need to help this cat but went along with it all anyway. Ugh. I’m tearing up again just thinking about it all.

Taco in a box.

Tuckered out from giving SO MUCH LOVE!

My two adorable baby boys.

April 21, 2013

I’m annoyed.

My cats are being assholes today.

Sure, he LOOKS cute.

Taco slept on my stomach like an angel, up until about 5am when he puked on the bed. Then I woke up again at 7am because I heard him eating plastic. I don’t even know where he gets this crap. Discovered the puke on the bed also contained plastic. Thanks.

Moosh Moosh has been meowing all morning. Except since he doesn’t really meow, it’s more like whiny chirping. I’m trying to work at my desk for once (instead of on the bed with the laptop) because I really don’t feel like working and I have to work because I need to finish this work before tomorrow and finish it early today because I’m going to see Jim Jeffries tonight. (I am SO SO SUPER EXCITED about this! And even more excited because it’s a 6pm show, perfect for an ol’ lady who has to work in the morning. He’s really funny, and also really offensive, so if you don’t like offensive Aussies, don’t bother looking him up. I happen to love everything as offensive as it can possibly be.) But Moosh is jumping up on my desk in my face and getting cat hair in my eyes and dander in my nose and I’m already allergy-crazy today. Dick.

Have also caught Taco on the counter today, trying to get into the box of Cheerios. I can’t possibly imagine that he thought this was a good idea.

Shortly after, he was caught on the wire shelving we have in the kitchen. This is quite tricky, as he doesn’t have good footing there. Again, not sure what he thought he was going to get out of this.

He’s no angel either.

And I still don’t feel like working. BAH.

April 20, 2013

We interrupt Caturday for an important anti-CISPA announcement.

This blog is supposed to be about fun. Fun and cats. But this is important.

The interwebz are fun. It’s been quite the journey for me to come from playing Oregon Trail on an Apple II to being able to carry around a 5lb. machine with the ability to share my words with the world, connect with people, learn about new things, have a virtually endless supply of information, etc. I remember when we first got AOL and suffered through the dial-up modem sounds. I had a pager when I was a teenager, as by that time they were “cool” and not just for drug dealers. I got a cell phone when I was 18. I remember when texting started. Now I can do anything on my cell phone that I can do on my computer. I watched this all transform and evolve. And this is all in the matter of my relatively short lifetime.

I mean, I have millions of cat lolz at my fingertips! But hilarious cats aren’t all the internet is about.

Despite the fact that we all (well, not all of us) willingly put out TONS of personal information for all to see, through blogs, Facebook, Twitter, etc., things that are private deserve to be kept private.

I introduce you to CISPA:

H.R. 3523, the Cyber Intelligence sharing and Protection Act of 2011, along with a handful of other bills currently circulating congress, all seek to give the government the power to force ISPs and other information aggregator companies to share ALL of your personal information, internet usage, and other data with ANY government agency or PRIVATE ENTITY [read: corporation] who requests it. The only requirement is that it be done in the name of “Cybersecurity,” which is never well-defined.

The important part of this bill is that it’s entirely vague. It gives the government power to pretty much to whatever they want. Keep in mind, too, that this bill is written by a group of (mostly) older people with less understanding of technology. I’m not saying that everyone over the age of 50 is a moron when it comes to keeping up. But how many IT guys are senators? These are career politicians.

Fear shouldn’t paralyze us so much that we allow our freedoms to be raped. I read 1984 when I was younger. I think I was probably too young to really understand the implications of it, but I do now. I am, for the most part, a law abiding citizen (I say most part because I think I break a few driving). I don’t have anything to hide. But that doesn’t mean that my email and my search history should be readily tapped into with a vague semblance of cause. That sounds DANGEROUSLY close to “thoughtcrime” to me.

Hold onto your freedoms. We’ve earned them.

April 14, 2013

My biological clock knows my furry kids are enough.

We’re gettin’ serious today.

The older I get, the more I get confused as to why my biological clock isn’t yearning to procreate. After all, the boyfriend and I are in a stable relationship (stability is relative after 10 years). We’re far from rich but people raise children on far less; my mother did without taking any help (except child support, that’s a given). We’re not married, not because either of us are afraid of commitment (I think 10 years kinda proves that) but a) because neither of us are religious, therefore there’s no “living in sin” or any of that business, b) it’s cheaper to break up than get divorced and besides, it’s pretty clear that neither of us are going anywhere (right, honey?) and c) I adore being the center of attention so in light of A and B, the most fun part of getting married would be to have a wedding for ME, with a fancy dress and all sorts of selfish things, all of which are expensive, and I refuse to go into debt in order to do something that’s completely unnecessary.

But I don’t seem to want children. My best friend has a beautiful (not so little anymore, she’s almost taller than her mom now) girl, she was young and it was unexpected but from the moment she gave birth, she became this amazing mom whose world revolved around her baby. I’ve known her forever, so when I went to visit her and her newborn in the hospital for the first time, I saw the transformation. While I was awed that she made that little baby, I felt nothing more than aunty pride and love for my friend and her new addition. I don’t see babies and start cooing. In fact, I don’t even know how to treat babies, and for that matter, children. Do you talk to them like adults? Do you baby talk? Do you ignore them when they’re running underfoot? Do you pay attention to every single word they say? (If you’ve been around kids, you’ll know about that age when they never stop talking and asking questions regardless of anyone paying attention to them).

But cats. I see cats and I want to take them home with me. Cats I connect with.

A face only a kitty mommy could love.

I constantly wonder if I’m making a mistake. If one day I’m going to regret not having children. I’m 31 now. I expected that when I got older, more WANT would kick in. It’s not. Frankly, the idea of pregnancy alone scares the shit out of me. Nine months without a beer, even on a really bad day. Morning sickness. People touching my belly without asking. Swollen feet. And BIRTH. Gah.

And when THAT unpleasantness is over, you’re suddenly responsible for a LIFE. And it’s not just the responsibility of keeping them alive, although that’s rather important. You have to decide how to raise them. Worry about how the decisions you make will form them. I’m incredibly happy with the way I turned out, and I thank my parents for that, but I also know there’s a large genetic component there, one that I can’t control. What if my kids are nerdy and unpopular? I wasn’t the most popular kid in school, and I had my fair share of bullying, which I think most people do, but it made me stronger and I learned how to stand up for myself. I learned how to find friends that were like me and not worry about being popular. What if my kid doesn’t flourish?

I read an article this week written by a woman who regretted having children. She was incredibly open about it and although at some points I felt she was a little too callous and seemed to have a bit of a superiority complex, it made me feel better. Having a child doesn’t come with a 30-day trial. If after 9 months, I find that my “mommy instinct” doesn’t kick in, what then? It seems to me like an awfully big gamble.

Cats I can do. Cats fit with my own selfishness. They’re there when I need them (and often when I don’t) but can take care of themselves, and can do so as soon as they’re weaned. They don’t have to wait for me to take them outside to poop. They’ll go when they please.

People don’t understand this. They tell me I should want kids. That cats aren’t a substitute. Well you know what? Fuck you. Humans aren’t all they’ve cracked up to be. And there’s plenty of us out there. Too many, in fact. Kids are cute. I like them. But I also like giving them back. I love my “me” time. Cats don’t take much effort. Some food, some love, some play, and I can go about my day. I feel rewarded.

Sometimes I wish I wanted kids so I wouldn’t have to wonder about my future regret. But I can’t justify “giving it a go” only to find our that I was right in my own self-realization all along. It’s a life we’re talking about. Who wants to grow up feeling unwanted?

April 13, 2013

I’ve invested more in my cats than in my 401K.

Part 2 of vet visit. The bill. The one that made me faint.

My vet is not a bargain vet. I could find a cheaper one. But I’ve been to a few, and I’ve learned that the peace of mind that comes with having a vet you have complete confidence in and really like is worth its weight in gold. And I don’t just like my regular vet, either. I like the other vet in the office, and the staff as well. No one talks down to me, everyone patiently listens to my bazillion questions and my overanalyzing. I find that I like women docs more, too. I can probably chalk this up to the fact that I’ve only had interactions with 2 male vets and I didn’t feel like either of them were particularly affable. I’m sure there’s plenty of really awesome male docs. I just haven’t met them. In conclusion, when your cats are your children, nothing is more important. So I’ll happily pay a lil more for their care.

I’d expected a decent-sized bill. I just didn’t expect HOW much.

1. Exam. Expected.

2. Bloodwork. Expected. Not expected? Adding the charge to recheck Taco for FeLV and FIV. Suggested because one of his pupils was noticeably bigger than the other. Apparently, even kitties have been screened for this as babies, it’s recommended that they’re screened again 2 months after moving into forever home. Taco wasn’t, and either of these could be a cause for different sized pupils. This is where paying extra for a good vet comes in…Upon your kitty’s first visit, they take his or her picture for their records, as well as make a little laminated tag to put on the carrier. My vet compared the picture to the live Taco and noted that his pupils were fine in the pic. DETAILS. I LOVE THEM. I haven’t gotten the results back yet. Also another reason I love my vet? They’re super up on technology. They email.

3. Rabies vaccine. Expected. Don’t necessarily agree with this one, but it’s required for his kitty license and if we need to board them on vacay.

4. License. Forgotten about, but expected. Stupid, because they’ll never get out. Of course it’s possible, but my cats are terrified of the outside world. Twice the door has opened accidentally and not noticed for a few hours and no one went near it.

5. Kitty probiotics.

Ask your vet about this if your cat’s poop makes you gag.

Don’t laugh. Taco has the MOST rank-smelling poo in the world. It’s impossible for me to understand how he and Moosh eat the same thing but comes out SO much more foul from his ass. Adding the probiotics helps a bit. Worth the money. I promise.

6. Revolution.

Die, fleas, die.

Not expected. Was reminded it’s coming up on flea season again. Wish to avoid an invasion. And yes, I know there’s natural options for fleas but I’ve tried all of them, and trust me, they don’t work in Florida. It’s all dirt here, which is flea heaven.

7. Kitty food.

Urinary health cat food. Yay.

Taco’s stupid prescription food. I suppose it’s not horribly expensive but in my eyes, it is for crap food that’s not natural or organic or byproduct-free. But it helps him, so who am I to complain?

And that, my dears, is why Mommy is eating PB&Js for awhile. I never thought I’d spend so much on a vaguely healthy cat. Sigh.

Still waiting for my brats to start working. The slugs are sleeping at the moment.