• I watched the Superbowl last night, probably for the first time (intentionally) ever. It was boring as shit until the last quarter, when I actually found myself emoting over football, and getting happy when Eli Manning did his little anti-sack dance and threw that awesome pass that turned the game around. Could have been the bottle of bubbly, could have been all the food, could have been the company I kept, but whatever it…
The worst part about being a grownup has got to be the paperwork. A constant stream of it, coming from store clerks and bank tellers and the mailman, pouring in, day after day, filling every pocket, every purse, every drawer, every shelf — paper everywhere. And I’ve even opted in to paperless billing and opted out of credit-card offers and whatnot. Still, the stuff overwhelms me. I had a frantic ten minutes today when I…
The cats, in an attempt to prove once and for all that the sun orbits the Earth and Galileo was a punk-a$$ chump, just broke the Galileo thermometer my sister gave to me for Christmas a few years ago. They were playing and one of them — probably Sally — was getting all monkey with it and climbing on the bookshelf and probably jumped off, making the shelf rock and sending the thermometer to the…
Actual conversation that just occurred between me and my cats as I arrived home from work: Cats: Meow! Me: Oh my god, kitties, it is cold as balls outside! Do you know how cold that is? Cats: Meow! Me: Actually, balls aren’t cold at all. Cats: Meow! Me: It’s a figure of speech.
Jack has a new nickname: Gingerballs. *And if you don’t get the reference, you can just look at the tags.
Your cat might bound up out of nowhere and box the shit out of your left boob because that’s where the drawstring happens to be sitting, motionless, yet somehow taunting him.
blog (n.) an online repository for endless bitching, bad poetry, and pictures of cats that are, on average, never as cute as your own.
Me, to Jack, who was eyeing the new phone cord I just installed: “If you so much as put that cord in your mouth, I will pull out your teeth and make a necklace of them and wear it in front of you so you’ll be sad.”
I was invited to a party tonight, but I’ve ended up frittering away my evening at home, sort of half paying attention to VH1’s “I Love The ’90s” marathon, sipping Korbel, and wrapping the rest of my presents. Man, Patrice Oneal cracks me up. I think I could just sit and listen to him laugh for hours. My cats have probably eaten five feet of sparkly ribbon by now. Note to self: In the future,…
[for Thursday, Dec. 13] Jack has an eating disorder. It’s called “Feed Me All The Time or I Will Chew On Your Phone Line Until Your Internet Disconnects.” Luckily for his fat ass, I happened to have another long phone cord (pictured above) stowed in the closet for just such a stupid emergency (and saraclark has suggested I coat it with the spicy juices of a hot pepper). Really, though, he has some food issues.…
You must be logged in to post a comment.