Tagged: crazy cat lady
“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.
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.
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.
Cats. Shut up. Please.
So I started this new kick. Being positive. Because I realized that I have become a rather temperamental be-yotch lately. Which I don’t mind so much, but I’m even starting to piss off myself with my grouchiness. Therefore, I’m attempting.
Unfortunately, it seemed like everyone else around me was having bad days and being cranky, which is hard to overcome. And then there’s my stupid wrist, which is more crampy than it was before I went to the doctor and started wearing the damn brace, and then the rest of my arm started hurting too from overcompensating. And thanks doc, I know you said I was cleared to work with a brace, but have you ever tried to grab boxes coming down a moving conveyor belt, jiggle them around under a half-broken scanner and then place them perfectly tetris-style in a plastic igloo without the use of the thumb on your dominant hand? I was hoping my left arm would become magically useful and I would move into ambidextrism, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. It’s either very stubborn or it takes a lot longer than a week to teach one’s moronic digital half to pick up the slack.
Just call me gimp.
This is where I expect my cats to “poor you” me. But no! They still want to be fed. In fact, they seems to want to be fed more than usual. The non-winter Florida winter is making them ravenous. And I refuse to feed them more than they’re suppose to be fed. So guess what happens? MEOWING. SO MUCH MEOWING.
Usually it’s just Taco being a loud a-hole, but now Moosh is getting into the act with his high pitched MEEEEs. I came home from work tonight craving quiet, and Taco meowed for (and I’m NOT exaggerating here) a half an hour straight. At some point he was so worn out from meowing at me he actually stopped following me around and laid down to meow at me. They certainly weren’t starving. There was food in the food island. They know how to get it. Both of them. I guess it’s not as good as when you’re SERVED food.
Taco’s finally shut up, although he has a new, weird obsession with eating my clutch purse. The boyfriend is home and we’re sitting in football-induced silence, and it’s lovely. Yay.
Meowwy christmas!
Missing an opposable thumb. Feel like a cat.
I haven’t posted in awhile, one, because I haven’t had much to say. Since I work at Big Brown, my work days are getting a bit longer with all the shipping going on (I HATE peak season). Two, as of Friday, I am wearing a brace on my right hand (and I’m right-handed, so convenient) to disallow use of my thumb. I’m super injury-prone anyway, but I’ve been tearing my my body at Big Brown for almost 13 years now and I ain’t as young as I used to be. Things ache more and don’t heal as fast. I’ve been ignoring a pain in my wrist for a few months now, but it got to the point I finally went to have it checked out. It’s not horrible, but it’s getting worse, and Big Brown take your word for it. It’s a good thing I’m not a doctor, because I thought it was tendonitis in my wrist. Turns out I have a sprained thumb. Apparently if sprains don’t get to heal, they stick around. So typing isn’t fun. And you should see my handwriting.
So now I know how my cats feel. I can’t even put a bra on without a production. I’m supposed to try not to use it at all and then tomorrow I get to go see how well I can hurl around boxes.
Anyway, that’s that. I was nominated for an awesome blog award, and I promise I will get around to appreciating that in here. But for today, I’m going to rest, and let the boyfriend do the heavy lifting while I watch football.
Which one is real?
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.
SO CUTE SLEEPING!
Never a dull day…
Cats really make life interesting.
I mean, who knows how bored I would be without them? For example: Tuesday, I had a few minutes to sit on my ass in between work and the gym and more work. Taco was such a dear that he vomited food all over our comforter again! Stripping the bed and tossing it all in the wash (after removing the food particles, of course) was such a PERFECT alternative! Because I have a lot of time to do laundry several times over.
You’re welcome for the clean bed to sleep on.
I suppose it was better that I saw it rather than the boyfriend NOT see it and lay in it (it was all on his side of the bed), but cleaning up kitty puke is never my favorite chore. My mom’s cats (also my cats) puke on her bed all the time. Now I understand how she feels.
I’m starting to think that perhaps I should just cover every surface in plastic like an old lady. I mean, the couches are already covered in puppy pads and our mattress has a waterproof case on it (we bought a new, very uncheap new mattress not that long ago and decided for that sort of investment we should guard against possible Taco pee, even though he’s never done it there. So far, though, it’s only been tested by me falling asleep holding a beer. It worked. Phew.) so we might as well just take the extra step to encase it all. Shrink wrap?
Can you spot what’s wrong with this picture?
I love my boys and all, but don’t they know that I don’t get paid for cleaning up after them?
The question of the day: Did the cats miss us?
Unequivocally, yes.
Too much, in fact. I was pleased to be greeted by both boys. I dropped the boyfriend off at a friend’s house (prior plans, but I just wanted to go home) so I am currently the only target of affection.
LOOOOOOOOOOVEEEEEE
So much affection. Taco has followed me meowing for 3 fulls hours now. Everywhere I go, there he is. It’s ridiculous. I mean, I’m glad they weren’t mad at us for having left them for 3 days but I didn’t expect that Taco would be so concerned upon my return that I would leave again. Moosh has been lovey but modestly so, especially in comparison to Mr. Attached To Mommy’s Hip.
This was my greeting. Plenty of meowing as well.
I missed my babies too. My mom totally spoiled them. There’s so much food in their bowls they could eat for a week. This is why her cats are overweight. She’s always very concerned about kitties going hungry. She worries about this with humans, too, which is why she brings me vegan cake all the time, usually right when I have sworn to eat healthily (even though being vegan, my food intake is generally on the healthy side, except for my weakness for french fries).
But I do really appreciate her feeding them and checking on them each day. Who knows what kind of trouble they would have gotten into otherwise? My puke-soiled duvet cover is in the dryer as we speak, and if that’s the worst that happened, I’m vaguely ok with that.
We both work two jobs…you’d think they’d be more used to us NOT being home.
Beach view
Either way, I’m glad to be back, even though it feels like I never left. In case you’re wondering, Ft. Myers Beach is a very lovely destination. I don’t know what it’s like for spring break or during the summer but it was mostly older people and Germans. I don’t know why that area attracts a plethora of Germans, but MAN, is it ever full of them. I wish the weather had cooperated a bit more, but it was pretty and it’s always nice to get away with the boyfriend.
While the cat’s away…the…um…cats will play.
We’ve been gone one day. One.
That is exactly how long it took Taco to get to what I THOUGHT was an unreachable place (about head-high on a wire baker’s rack), grab a bag of treats (that I JUST bought yesterday), drag them upstairs ONTO our bed, shred the package, eat all the treats, and puke twice. On the bed.
Thank you to my mother for appreciating my worry that the cats would make trouble while we were gone and investigating even though there was no immediate sign of trouble. Mommy instinct is apparently live and well in our genes. And thank you for cleaning the puke off the comforter, even though I know you’re used to it with your own boys at home.
I mean, really? Taco, C’MON, MAN!
Lady, you ain’t leavin’.
Off to the beach…without the kitties *gasp*
The boyfriend and I are taking a minitrip. We’re not going far (we live in Florida, after all) but it will be away from the boys. Although they will be cat sat by a most dependable kitty mommy (my own) I worry about the trouble these boys will get into. It was suggested to me that perhaps my cats aren’t really as weird as I think they are, that I’m such a crazy cat lady that I watch them more closely than normal people watch their cats.
This may be true. But part of the reason I watch them so closely is because I’ve had so many crazy incidents when I don’t. Normal people’s cats don’t eat the handles off garbage bags. Taco is seriously a bad toddler who does things merely to get attention. Actually, now that I think about it, he’s at his worst when he’s right in front of my face. THAT’S when he uses his reserve of “bad cat.” Just a second ago he started batting at the laptop cord that’s sitting next to me. It’s normally well within his reach and he doesn’t bother with it. Now it’s something that he can demonstrate his brattiness on with an audience.
So maybe they’ll be fine. They tend to half-hide from my mom anyway. For two cats who have never known anything but love and affection from everyone that’s ever come in contact with (and considering that the two people that come in contact with them most often sometimes use them for their own amusement), their aversion from people other than me and the boyfriend is baffling. Moosh will be good. At 4, he only feels kittenish half the time. He will, of course, miss “Mommy Moosh Time” but he’ll forget by the time we get back. I thought he would hate me the time we went to Hawaii and boarded him for a week, but he acted like no time had passed and he’d been at home all along.
I’m sure they’ll be upset that we’re not taking them along to what would be nature’s litter box (by that I mean the beach in general, it’s not like we’re going to some el grosso beach) but they’ll live, so long as my mom can figure out the litter genie (they didn’t have diaper genies 30 years ago, it seems).
Taco is currently putting his paw in my glass of water and drinking it from his paw. He has a giant water bowl about 10 feet away. I’m going to have to start buying sippy cups. Those paws have been in poop. Gah.
MEOW hear this! 