Tagged: black cat

Alas, my blog will never make me rich.

I like to read. I LOVE to read, in fact. I read a bunch of crap, like chick lit and sometimes accidentally romance novels when the cover of the book fools me into thinking it’s chick lit. I’ll read it anyway. It’s like candy. No nutritional value but it’s fun while you’re eating it. I try to balance out my crap reading with what I call “smart books,” a.k.a. non-fiction or classic novels. I don’t always make it through the non-fictions…they’re always really interesting to me at first, and then I get bored. But sometimes I don’t, which brings me to my point. Malcolm Gladwell totally keeps my interest on non-fiction subjects, so as a result I’ve read several of his books, the first being The Outliers. It’s about incredibly successful people and WHY they are successful. The basic consensus is this: successful people don’t have to have giant IQs, in fact, sometimes intelligence that high is detrimental. No social skills. IQ doesn’t measure street smarts. High-ish IQs seem to be best. But what really makes a successful person successful is luck. I prefer to call it “random advantageous circumstances” since I don’t believe in “luck” as it’s defined. And it’s not just luck, it’s being able to recognize these random advantageous circumstances and furthermore, taking advantage of them. Bill Gates is one of those people. He was in the right place at the right time with the right interests and knew to milk that shit.

Let me switch subjects for a sec. You’ll see where I’m going with this. Now, I by no means consider myself a writer. I probably should, I make my living proofreading and dabbling in copywriting. And it’s not as if I think I’m a BAD writer, really, I just realize that I’m not the best. I ramble, I can’t keep track of my tenses, I DESPISE re-reading my work to check for errors (stream of conscious writing, you know) and I don’t always have a solid point. BUT…I do adore the subjects I write about (kitties) and I have good stories.

My baby boy is so good. And cute. And lovey.

My baby boy is so good. And cute. And lovey.

(Here’s where I put the two together.) As a smart girl, I feel like I should have done something considerable with my life. But I’m grown up and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up (cat whisperer is at the top of my list currently, but as you can read here, it seems kind of hard to break into). Since reading the Outliers, I keep that recipe for success in the back of my mind at all times. I’m always on the lookout for my million dollar idea. For the wave to ride to success. When I started this blog, it was because my cats are psycho and frankly, I don’t always believe the things they do. Writing about my crazy cat experiences is cathartic and highly rewarding (who doesn’t like favorable comments?) But I always hoped that I’d find a way to make it my million dollar idea. Well, no one’s offered me a sponsorship yet, but I decided to take it upon myself and look into getting paid via ads. Which is when I discovered that WordPress ain’t havin’ none of that. Unless you go through them and you buy your domain name. It seems rather sad to pick up my toys and leave for greener and more profitable pastures. And as of now I’m not planning to. I just needed to vent about my defunct dream. ONE MORE MILLION DOLLAR DREAM DOWN THE DRAIN!

It would help if the boys helped with the hunt for the million dollar idea, but they only search for bugs.

It would help if the boys helped with the hunt for the million dollar idea, but they only search for bugs.

I also failed on the “marrying for money” idea. What can I say? I’m a sucker for love.

So if anyone knows how I can make my crazy cat stories into stacks of benjamins, hit me up, yo. I’ll be on that like a cheap suit. Until then, I’m going to see if I can get the cats jobs.

Taco is a petulant child. If you won't make room for him on your lap, he'll FIND room. Forcefully. Ah, the lie of a cat mom.

Taco is a petulant child. If you won’t make room for him on your lap, he’ll FIND room. Forcefully. Ah, the life of a cat mom.

Here are some pictures of cats. Because I’m lazy.

Cute picture dump day. Brain doesn’t feel like writing. Must concentrate on football.


You remember how I like #catwang? Well, now there’s #imaunicorn. Yeah. It’s awesome.

Moosh sleeping on furniture meant for him!

Even devils look like angels when they’re sleeping.



Too tired to even lift his head.



Avoiding the mews.

Today is election day. I’m nervous. So I’m trying to avoid watching the news. I dropped off my ballot yesterday (drive-thru!) so my vote is in…I’m worried about the rest of the country. It’s also the boyfriend’s birthday, but we’re not doing anything because Tuesday birthdays are really no fun.


So in the interest of distraction, I’m posting cute kittehs.

Moosh where he’s not supposed to be…

Taco after snatching a skeeter right out of the air. And promptly losing it in his paw because it was so tiny.

Taco stoned on calming treats.


Moosh furrin’ up my pillow


And that’s all until tomorrow, folks, when I wake up and feel as depressed as I do on Tuesday mornings when I see that I lost fantasy football AGAIN (only this is a 4-year sadness, there’s no “coming back” next year) or hopeful and appreciative of my fellow Americans. Fingers crossed!


So here’s what I learned about cats and candles.

Not much.


Thanks to those of you that responded to my candle/plug-in harmful to cats question, I feel a little less clueless in my lack of knowledge. No one has really heard of anything.

There’s a new “halloween” catwang. Couldn’t help myself.

I had to take Taco for his laser pew pew pew vet visit today, so I figured I’d ask while I was there (after gushing over the 3 black kittens waiting for homes in the waiting area! Holy crap, they were SO cute. GAWD I love black cats).

HOW CUTE is this lil guy? Jason said no. I’m not sure why, because he saw them when he took Taco for his pew pew pew last week. You can’t say no to that face!

The receptionist had NEVER heard of it before, so she went back and asked the vet and vet techs…also nothing. And this is an all-cat vet, so I would assume that the field of knowledge relating directly to cats would be more vast than that of an all-around vet. There is apparently something about cats not agreeing with pine and cedar oil, but nothing about the livers and their lack of metabolizing aromas.


So I’m going to keep my Bath and Body Works plug-ins. Even though I’m not overly fond of the one in the living room currently, and my kitchen smells like a pancake. And  I only burn candles every once in awhile anyway.


Oh, she did tell me to check the website for Cornell University. I didn’t see anything about this topic, but there is a TON of kitty info there. Who can’t use that?

One last kitten pic! Sorry for the blurry, the silly kid wouldn’t stop moving. Funny how all that exuberance is so cute in a baby and not so much in the Taco. I mean, Taco really is just an adult-sized kitten.

The cats are a bunch of babies.

Whenever a stranger comes over to the house, or for that matter, even my mother, who comes over at least once a week, the cats freak. Especially men. You’d think that all humans were killing machines ready to crush them into cat food. Moosh Moosh, I kinda understand, someone threw him out of a car when he was a kitten. Taco, he’s been around good people since he was born. This leads me to the conclusion that they are both just big babies.


So when the boyfriend’s 6-foot bazillion cousin came to visit the other night, I expected a scene of panic. I was somewhat proud of them, though, they didn’t hide in the closet.


We will wait here until further notice.

Watching and waiting.


Frankly, I’m amazed that they behaved as well as they did. They did, however, scramble for cover when I got a ladder out last night to silence a dying smoke alarm. The boyfriend was out of town last night and this is the second one that has died while he was out of town, leaving me to deal with the overly stupid process of turning off the circuit, replacing the battery, turning the circuit back on and then testing. I had to call my mommy over because I had visions of me falling off the ladder, not to be discovered for days. I have a good mommy. You’re never to old to need yours!


I wonder if the cats would have gotten hungry enough to eat me? Ew, why did I think that?