Tagged: cat
It’s Caturday, and I’m lazy.
Yeah. So I’m lazy. Again. I DID manage to take my lazy ass to the mall today (I hate the mall) to spend christmas gift cards. I even bought a sensible dress for work. It’s leopard print, so I suppose it’s not TOO sensible, but nevertheless, sensible for me. The rest of my day has consisted of taking pictures of cats. I thought I’d share.
Do enjoy.
Taco loves his Neko toy.
Moosh also loves the Neko toy. For such a sweetie, he has serious fangs.
Naptime. Play hard, sleep hard.
Ditto.
And for the pièce de résistance…a demonstration of how to TRULY enjoy a lazy Caturday. Hope you’re making the most of yours.
What will YOU do with your tax refund?
For many, tax time means paying money. For me, it means a fat refund. See, I know that it’s just giving the tax man interest-free monies, but I suck at saving, so really, that money is in far better hands, interest or not. A few years ago I got screwed (they changed the tax laws, as usual, and those of us with two jobs who were unprepared for it got surprised) so now I take out extra every week to avoid such unpleasantries in the future. So I’m getting a refund. Most of this refund will go in the bank, but this year, I think I’m going to splurge on the kitties.
I’m finally buying a cat tree.
It’s a little expensive, but I never did get around to building the one I threatened to (see my post about it here) and I found one I like that’s not in the thousands of dollars.
Does that cat have 6 toes??? I love Hemingway cats!
It’s got sisal in the bottom nook and a pad on one part.
This is the Sebastian something-or-other. It’s not that much more expensive than the traditional trees of this size (I use the term “tree” loosely here) and it fits with my modern Ikea look. I’m excited. I already filed my taxes even though the IRS doesn’t start processing them until the 30th.
I showed the boyfriend last night. His response was the “dismissive head nod/half eyeroll/smirk.” This pissed me off. For someone who is always complaining that the cats take over the house, I thought that he would LOVE that I’m taking his feelings into consideration and buying something that looks more like furniture than a tacky carpet tower. I had already had a few adult beverages at this point (it was Friday. I had a long week.) and so of course, I felt compelled to respond with something like “way to be passive aggressive,” he said “don’t the cats already have enough shit” and then I stomped outside. By the time I finished my smoke, I’d already decided to leave it be and continue on with my plans. My best friend once told me the best way to get things done around the house is to just do them and then act as if whatever you did has always been like that. It works. To my surprise, the boyfriend APOLOGIZED for not being more excited about it, and told me that he just didn’t want to see me waste more money on crap the cats will ignore. I was very touched by this. A significant other recognizing FEELINGS! Even after almost ten years. I almost cried (seriously, but I’m also PMSing, so I think hormones had a little to do with the threat of tears).
Even if the cats ignore it (which I doubt, Moosh’s new spot is on top of the bookcase attached to my desk, on top of a scanner he probably shouldn’t be sitting on – Moosh is a serious tree dweller), it’s still useful as furniture, and for about the same price as a bookcase from Ikea. So really, what do I have to lose? My Mooshie gets to climb something he’s actually allowed to, and Taco, well, Taco’s favorite sleeping spot is anywhere that I wanted to sit. His other favorite spot is in my face, and I don’t think there’s a cat toy in the world that can replace that. He’s just annoying.
Am I crazy?
Moosh on my desk. In my face. As I’m writing this.
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.
(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.
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 life of a cat mom.
Taco is rather unhelpful.
I brought work home tonight. This isn’t my favorite after-work activity, but I was determined to push through and get ‘er done, if you will.
It should come as no surprise that this was not to Taco’s liking, because, after all, WORK means NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO MEEEEEEEEE!
Here’s Taco LITERALLY sitting on my work.
I don’t know what kind of work you, dear reader, do, but mine involves being creative and thinking and concentrating. Not always the fun kind of creative, like blogging or photoshopping pictures of kitties, the kind that you’re glad that you get paid for. The kind of work that is really quite impossible when you have a cat sitting next to you HOWLING AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS. God forbid I make the mistake of looking over and making EYE CONTACT with him, as that is a direct invitation to jump on my lap (while continuing to howl at the top of his lungs) and step all over it, which sucks doubly because I maaaay have overdone it just a touch at the gym yesterday and my legs are currently unusable and untouchable (but I so oddly want a massage, go figure).
Here’s another angle after an aborted lap attack. Back on the work.
I managed to work through during the howl breaks and somehow get it done. Poor Taco couldn’t even get TOO excited, because immediately after finishing my dearly beloved mother called, hindering the speed in which his little mouth was fed. Fortunately for him, my dearly beloved mother is also becoming quite the technologically advanced lady and suggested I put her on speaker phone. So proud of your iPhone using, Mamacita! Props on the texting, particularly Emoji.
My workplace is very dog-friendly and I realize that is much more sensible than cat-friendly…after all, I’ve never actually met anyone allergic to dogs (although I’m sure they’re out there) but many allergic to cats and dogs are really much better with the vast population than cats…but I do wish sometimes I could work AT work with a kitty on my lap. Just one that’s not meowing. While I am the resident crazy cat lady there, I’m most definitely not the only one. Many would appreciate kitteh luv. Oh, but the chaos that would ensue if I tried to haul these freaks in my office. Sigh.
Speaking of cat-friendly workplaces, if you like lolcats and you haven’t seen LOLWORK on Bravo yet, you totally should. It’s highly amusing. I love the crazy cat lady gay guy whose sample of quotes includes “People tell me my cat is like a dog and I tell them to shut up.” It’s not the most amazing show ever but it’ll give you a giggle. They don’t get to bring their cats into work but there IS a homemade cheezburger cat mascot costume! I’ll leave you with THAT thought. Good night.
Moosh being the good son, as usual. Silent.
“Getting Back at the Cats” Day
Sometimes I like to switch things up a bit. Instead of annoying the boyfriend all day by singing rap songs (I’m super obsessed with 2 Chainz right now, because in a bad bitch contest, I’m in first place – if you listen to 2 Chainz you’ll get that, otherwise you’ll probably think I’m a misogynist or something), I get in the mood to annoy the cats. After all, they annoy the hell out of us all the time. I feel that they need to be put in their places on occasion. As luck would have it, I felt particularly annoying yesterday. So I spent the day throwing toys at them (this annoyed the boyfriend as well, he hates when I take out all 387458349 of their toys and throw them around the house), hiding them under blankets and saying “Oh dear, Taco disappeared! Wherever could he have gone?” and forcing them to sit on my lap.
HAI I’M IN UR FACE
Please leave us alone.
The best part is when you leave them alone for a bit and they settle in for what they think is peace and quiet…and then you poke them. And poke. And poke. It’s very satisfying to get them back, and the boyfriend is relieved that he’s not the target of my annoyance.
HAI I’M IN UR FACE
This morning I went back to annoying him. But there’s also beef stroganoff in the crock pot (this gives me extra points because I’m vegan) so he’ll put up with me for another day. Moosh is hiding in the closet anyway, just in case I feel like poking at him again. Taco is on the couch downstairs, but he never learns his lesson. The big dummy.
More cat hair?
Thanks to global warming, it’s balls hot this week here. You’d think that I would LIKE the heat, which I do, but I also dislike global warming (I also hate the people who refuse to believe that that’s not a “thing” – it is. Please check out maps of glaciers a year ago and the same maps now. Even the scientists are all WTF).
This is just adorable. I accept his fur.
I would also like the weather more if I didn’t so inconveniently have to go to WORK on nice days. I think it’s horribly unfair that my boss doesn’t accept “beach day” as a reason to not show up (I’m kidding, I’m TERRIFIED of breaking rules, I quite seriously have panic attacks when I attempt to, I blame catholicism in my youth).
I would ALSO like the weather more if it wasn’t a meat locker in my office constantly regardless of the temperature outside. It makes getting dressed in the morning rather difficult. I’m considering flip flops tomorrow, I guess I’ll just defrost my tootsies outside if they start looking black and dead.
I’m assuming the outside heat is going to send the cats into shed mode. I’m REALLY starting to think about shaving them now. Maybe I’ll take them to a groomer. I wish my cats weren’t so neurotic. Then I could take them places without worrying about scarring them horribly. So fragile. They certainly don’t take after their mother.
Evil plotting. Shoulda called em Pinky and the Brain.
Cat hair in my eye. WOO!
I don’t know if anyone else have cats that seem to ADORE smashing their faces into yours, but I have one and a half. Moosh shows his love through borderline violent face smushing, hence his name, Moosh Moosh (he was Oz when we got him, renamed him Porkchop and again renamed when it became apparent he was indeed a Moosh Moosh). Taco does it when he’s REALLY REALLY craving attention, not just his usual meowing and stepping over to get attention. The face isn’t so much his target, though. Any part will do.
Anyway, I bring this up because I have had a piece of cat hair stuck in my eye ALL DAY. I can feel it with and without my contact in. It’s not super painful, but it’s annoying. I only know it’s a cat hair because I saw it and tried to get it out and it disappeared to wreak havoc on my poor eyeball all freaking day long.
Moosh spreadin’ his shiz.
This is not the first time. I’m always pulling effing cat hairs out of my eyes. I’m lucky that most of my wardrobe is black or I’d be furry all day long, thanks to my laziness regarding lint brushes. If it’s not in my eyeball, it’s right after I’ve applied the stickiest lip gloss ever. Try fixing THAT without getting hairy, sticky lip gloss all over your face.
More fur on my bed.
So can I shave them? I think i could handle the claws but they’re both so jittery (I don’t know why they like us and hate new people so much, WE’RE the ones that torture them) I think I would scar them horribly with a loud razor. At the very least, Taco’s stress levels are of utmost concern, as we currently (get this) have couches FREE OF PEE PADS! CRAY, as the kids say these days. Taco sleeps on the couches a lot lately, which the boyfriend sees as a concern but is exciting to me because the vet said they won’t piss where they rub their face. “Sleep on” is close enough to “rub face on” for me. So exciting.
This is what my life has been reduced to. Complaining about cat hair in my eye and being enthralled about cats not peeing on my couch. And writing a blog about it while my boyfriend watches Shahs of Sunset, which despite my love for horrorshow reality shows, does nothing for me. Oddly, I’m ok with all of this.
Nothing better to do than capture the brotherly love on camera.
New year. Woo.
It’s really just another day, right? The cats REALLY did not seem very excited last night when we poured champagne.
So this technically is sparkling wine, because it’s from Spain, but it was cheap. And yes, that’s not a champagne glass, but seriously, who has those?
Not that they got any. In fact, they were asleep.
Oh, really, it’s midnight? Eff off, humans.
Probably the right idea. I’ve always thought starting the new year with a hangover wasn’t really in the spirit of new year’s resolutions. Unless, of course, your resolution is to drink more. Frankly, with the way the world is these days, I wouldn’t blame anyone for doing just that. We stayed in and played 80’s Trivial Pursuit (this part of the evening was a HUGE concession on the boyfriend’s part, and I am very appreciative of his willingness to make me happy).
Taco was kind enough to referee for us.
Neither of us wanted to stay sober enough to drive and there was nothing worth getting a taxi for.
I don’t really make resolutions. My interests are fleeting and cycle too quickly for that. I always try to go to the gym, I already half quit smoking, and I’m vegan. Pretty damn healthy if you ask me.
Besides, I have already resolved to do a bunch of stuff. Like be neater. Neatness is really not a Sarah trait. I try to be. I really do. But I can’t. Even when I do organize things, the “Organizing Sarah” has COMPLETELY different ideas from “Trying To Find Things Sarah.” Wherever I think is a good place to put something when I’m putting it there, I cannot for the life of me figure out where that is when I’m trying to find it. It’s some weird split personality thing. The boyfriend loves neatness, and I drive him crazy. You can imagine how much he loves the cats, because, you know, they don’t deposit hair and cat litter EVERYWHERE.
Basically I have these ongoing resolutions that, when I get a wild hair, get all charged up about making them happen again. The start of 2013 doesn’t make me feel any more resolute than any other day. I think all I really want is what we all want, and that’s to be happier. The older I get, the harder that is. Ignorance is bliss. On the plus side, even though I’m older and wiser, I’m also more forgetful. Maybe it all evens out.
Anyway. Happy new year! If you’re into that sort of thing.
Every day is kitty christmas.
The boys didn’t get a ton of presents this year…in fact, they only got 3. Well, 4 if you consider our generous gift to house and feed them for another year. They really never seem to appreciate that one…
Anyway, our very nice and VERY religious next door neighbor left us a note saying something to the effect of WWJD (he would be neighborly, it seems), a bag of chocolates (a lovely gesture, but alas, not vegan – I’ll regift, though…the boyfriend isn’t really a “sweets” person) and a cat toy stocking.
So spoiled.
Despite my atheism, I was able to look past the Jesus part of the note and focus on the intention and found it to be surprisingly heartwarming overall. The kitties loved the toys, although a few of them were the ones that Moosh absolutely LOVES (the ONLY kind of toy that he really likes) but that we cannot keep because Taco eats the sparkles, which in turn makes his poop sparkly AND bloody. I can’t just have normal cats?
The boyfriend bought them two bags of treats. He didn’t wrap them. In fact, he left them on the counter when we went out to a christmas eve party (I remembered this shortly after arriving to said party) and in the biggest christmas miracle EVER, they went untouched.
I bought them a new Neko toy. Moosh doesn’t seem to care for it (shocker!) but Taco goes apeshit for it. The first night we played with it he growled the whole time. Maybe not really a growl, that gutteral “rrrrrrrggg” that they do. The boyfriend, of course, missed this amusement and I have yet to accomplish replicating it. It’s just like when you take your car to the mechanic because it’s making a funny noise and the funny noise totally stops when you get there. Taco still loves it. I actually have to hide it in the pantry because otherwise he will find wherever it is, pull it out and drag it around.
So far, Taco hasn’t figured out how to turn door handles. Yet.
I personally had a good christmas, even though I was very PMSy and cranky on the actual day of. But I did get to spend it with my dad, mom, stepmom and boyfriend. I’ve never been jealous of people with big families. My little one is just fine. And I got stuff I asked for, like expensive anti-aging night moisturizer (I’m turning 31 in 2 months, it’s time to worry about this shit) and a tablet holder that confused my mom when I asked for it because I don’t have a tablet (I switched gyms because LA Fitness took over mine and I hate them, and my new gym’s cardio machines have no magazine holders – so baffling, but I HAVE to read magazines to get through cardio, I don’t like watching TV, and the tablet holder was my brilliant idea to remedy this). I also got kickass stuff from my friends, and in addition to the actual gifts, we we able to over our amazing wrapping talents (we have no shame in patting ourselves on the back and feeling superior to the lesser talented wrappers).
We have such good taste.
And I wish all of you a happy holiday season, whatever you celebrate and whatever you believe. And all of your kitties, too!
Cold weather kitty snuggles.
Let me preface this by saying that I despise cold weather. I am NOT built for cold. My Florida native blood is thin and wussy. I’ll sweat my ass off any day of the week over being even mildly chilly. However, because I am on my new “Positive Sarah” kick, I’m going to examine the good things about cold weather, rather than the ones that make me miserable, like goosebumps and the fact that if it drops below 65 degrees farenheit my nose runs like a faucet and turns red and glowy.
One. Cute boots. Although my closet is jam-packed full of sandals and flip flops because honestly, I don’t really like wearing shoes if I don’t have to, I love boots. I’ve loved boots in all sorts of different incarnations, from my younger teenage years wearing Doc Martens and my more favored steel toe Grinders to my newest acquisition, fashion-y, knee-high riding boots. Man, I love them. Almost as much as I love my fake Uggs from Target.
Two. Extra kitty snuggles. You’d think with the fur coats, they’d be pretty well prepared for the weather. The temperature in the house doesn’t really drop a ton, but it’s like they KNOW the outdoors are chilly and they’re into snuggling just because. It’s a lot harder to wake up for your alarm when you have a Taco draped across you purring. So cozy.
Who wants to disturb this?
I know this is blurry, but it’s hard to act like a professional photographer with a kitty scarf.
That’s it. Two good things.
Now, I understand that many of you reading this live in much colder climates. The high here today is 60. I know that’s a drop in the bucket. A few days ago I was wearing shorts and sandals. But this is why I live in Florida. I dare any of you currently scoffing my lack of toleration to spend a few days driving in an un-airconditioned car in the middle of Florida’s August.
MEOW hear this! 