Fastidious Prime

Guess who's lying next to me right now. I'll give you some hints. He's not so tall, but he is dark and handsome. He also happens to be incredibly brave and strong, pretty close to that ever alluring Byronic hero. And he purrs.

That's right! Kimchi Kitty!!!

He's a little drugged up still, so he's kind of wobbly. His surgery went well, and the vet found some weird unidentifiable plug-like object wedged in his little kitty intestines. I'm not so sure what the thing is yet, but I'm bringing it home after Kimchi's follow-up on Monday. I'm pretty sure I know someone who might recognize this wee culprit.

It sounds like the work of my husband, the mechanic. 

 Looking particularly menacing on Cinco de Mayo. :P

He's a computer technician actually, but he can do everything. The only downside to my multitasking man? He leaves little bits of his multi-purposed life all over the place-for my kitty to munch!

Have I mentioned my obsessive compulsive tendencies lately? Even if we didn't have a feline that eats anything that might possibly resemble a bug, clutter drives me insane. I don't have much to complain about, I know. I mean, being cluttery isn't the worst character flaw. Being murdery is the worst, but being cluttery is easily second.

I come home and seriously ponder gathering all the little washers, screws, zip ties, rubber gaskets, L.E.D. bulbs, fuses and pocket lint, and using them to concoct a weapon of mass organization. This is an every day thing, people. I mean, I've had time to plot. I'd call my creation Fastidious Prime (What? I love Transformers.). His first mission? To force untidy husbands into submission. *evil laughs persist*

Anyhow, I'm pretty sure that Mr. T will be a little less likely to leave things lying around now. Kimchi is pitiful. He's got a shaved belly, and two large incisions. He's all sleepy/stumbly, and has a bandage around his right arm. It's not a leg. Two arms. Two legs. Don't argue with me. It's not worth it.

My two main concerns at this point, besides keeping things tidy, are making sure my bleary kitty eats and doesn't contract an infection. It's another bout at the vet, if either of those two things are problems. I've got stinky soft cat mush, and antibiotics. Wish me luck Pray.

P to the S
If we go to the vet Monday and find out the wee object is something of mine, I'll die. I'm not missing anything, but who knows what the cat ate, really? It sounds like something ugly, and I don't own ugly things. It must be Todd's fault, right?

Twitter Does Not Like YOU

I try to be a nice person. Really, I do. Verbally bashing people on the old blog just isn't my thing. Normally. But there are always exceptions. I'm just going to get right down to it, okay?

I don't like John Mayer.

There! I said it. I don't like him, you hear me?! Jesus loves him, but I think he's creepy. Now, I know a lot of you ladies are going right now to delete my blog from your Readers, but I can't live the lie. I've been keeping it quiet for far too long, and I just can't stand it any longer. Hear me out.

I really tried to like him. When I first heard him, I thought he was a nice boy from Connecticut. He played the guitar, wrote semi-intelligent lyrics and had a decent voice, but something was amiss. I just couldn't put my finger on it.

Time passed, and I sort of forgot about him. Then he did it. He guided my finger right to what was bugging me about him.

In 2001 John Mayer came out with "Your Body Is A Wonderland," and I gagged a little. Well, a lot actually. Yeah. Yeah. It's smooth, catchy, going for sexy. I get it, and it might have been alright...IF it weren't for that dreaded line: One pair of candy lips, and your bubblegum tongue.

Now, who here thinks the idea of chewing on someone's tongue is attractive? Wait. Don't tell me. Please.

My point is, I decided the guy was gross. His pouty lips got on my nerves. His "I'm so cool" shaggy rocker hair got on my nerves. The way he whisper-crooned GOT ON MY NERVES. The guy just bugged me. All I could do was picture him gnawing on some poor girl's tongue, which lead to my justified dislike of all things Mayer.

Well, imagine my surprise the other day when I see a picture of this guy.
Where the heck does he get off being attractive?! Tattoos? Some sexy-man facial hair? I mean, did he model himself after a picture of Johnny Depp/Jack Johnson? A good plan for almost any man, but not someone I've resigned myself to thinking is a schmuck. No sir.

And who looks better with a buzz cut?! I'm telling you, bloggers, the man is not normal.

Dear John Mayer,

If you're going to start out completely annoying, you need to just stay that way. Don't change somewhere in the middle, so I look like a moron for griping about your stupid lips and hair. All I'm asking for is some consistency here.

P.S. Twitter does not like you.

Paranoia Paranoia

Let's see a show of hands on this. Who's afraid electronic devices may be slowly poisoning them with low grade radiation? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

I realize I can be a bit paranoid at times. I mean, I always worry. Like, a lot. As a child I was afraid Big Bird was secretly evil, and going to hurt the other muppets. He's a six foot canary, people. Don't you find that just a little bit creepy? Anyhow, I worry about these things.

What about our extended exposure to cell phones? Hm? I've only had one...since I was 17! That's ten years! And my best friend's littlest sister keeps her cell phone in the back pocket of her jeans/under her pillow/glued to her face 24/7. She's fourteen. This is to be expected, but how about what we don't expect? I'm thinking she's going to suffer severe butt rot some day, or something equally as unexpected/tragic. She'll be walking down the hall at school, and *plop* her left butt cheek will hit the floor. What then, I ask you?

And what about wireless? This is a new development in my home. Convenient? Yes. Neat blinky lights on top of my book case? Neato! The paranoia of impending brain tumors? Not so great. My cat will be the first to go, I just know it. He's home all day with that thing! It has to have some sort of long term effect. He already pukes all the time. What if it's not just a sensitive tummy?

Mark my words, bloggers. Butts are going to be falling off left and right. And what's worse? Our house pets, and stay at home Mom's/Dad's, are going to be the ones to pay most dearly.

I don't even want to think about it. Dudes, get that cell phone off your hips. Girls, don't keep it between your legs while driving. Kayla, I'm telling you...BUTT ROT. Get it out of your back pocket NOW. And, Kimchi, stay out of the living room.

Butt Rot Survivor Sporting New Innovative
Cell Phone Radiation Protective Carrying Case
(No, I'm not serious.)

Story Time!

I'm in the mood to tell a story to all my faithful followers. All *counts on fingers* two of you (Seriously, since I quit blogging/commenting regularly my vast array of readers have given up on me.). :(

So, as I was saying...a story.

Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, there lived a beautiful curly haired queen. Let's call her Heather, shall we? Okay! So, Queen Heather lived in her humbler-than-most-castles castle, with her handsome king. His name was Todd. King Todd.

Well, one day Queen Heather was running late for a very important meeting with her dear friend Princess Ari! Queen Heather should have hopped on her trusty steed, and been on her way to The Land of Hunts like a fortnight ago, but the evil King made her late! He forced her to sleep in, to finish the second to last Harry Potter book, and refused to help her be on time! Forced and refused, I say!

Despite her extremely agreeable nature, the queen decided to challenge the king. Outraged at this, the king threw a sock at her head! Yes, a sock! It hit her hard, but she managed to drag her half-conscious self to the bathroom, and dispose of the sock in the water closet forthright.

This angered the king even more, and he threatened to dispose of one of the queen's most prized possessions-her flesh colored brazier! :O This frightened the fair queen something awful, so she begged the king to have mercy, and he did.

Then the king locked himself away in his study, refusing to see the queen off for her outing. He knew everything was really all his fault, but he was a stubborn king, and slow to accept due blame.

The poor mistreated queen had no choice but to leave without a proper farewell. She bid no one adieu, and parted to The Land of Hunts.

Upon arriving at her destination, the queen sent the king a telegraph. He responded promptly with an apology, and all was well again.

Queen Heather and the fair Princess Ari were then free to be jovial and celebratory, and they all lived happily ever after.

The End

Here's The Deal

I was totally going to show my blog some love today, but due to circumstances beyond my control, I have no love to give. It seems as though I am in a bit of a melancholy rut, and have nothing nice to say.

So, in short, I am forcing myself to be a wee bit positive. Of all the things that suck right now, I can say that I'm thankful for a whole heck of a lot. Nothing is really all that bad. God is good. He takes care of me. Seriously.

On that note, I am going to bed.

Haints

My first impression of this city was of a couple really kind people.

The dude sitting next to me on the plane. He and his husband live here in SF. He was friendly and full of information. Just an all around wonderful guy.

So, I was ready to love it here. To the point of preparing myself to fall head over heals, and beg my husband to move to this glorious city by the Pacific.

Yet, it seems heartless to me now. Dead. It's the first place to ever make me feel truly disconnected.

I've crossed paths with a few people who search for a pair of eyes to connect with. A passing nod. A quick smile, easily wiped away. Harmless.

So, I know there's a pulse. I felt it. It just flat lined.

Is everyone just sporting their I'm a robot mask, or what?

Don't they die a little each time they pass someone without even so much as a glance? No acknowledgment at all. That uncomfortable "don't look at/talk to me" facade. Ick.

I understand why we do it, but doesn't it hurt? Just a little?

Everywhere I look I see shadows of people walking the streets. Streets lined with the disregarded insane, and the people who went hallow in order to keep their hearts from breaking.

What can you do?

Are other big cities like this? Am I just a country bumpkin, or does it seem like this to everyone?

On the brighter side. Nature always saves me. We went to Golden Gate Park yesterday and it was gourgeous. We took the scenic drive. The bridge was beautiful in the fog.

I am so going to Pier 39 to see some sea lions.

Unusual As Usual

Before I get started yammering, here's my newest creation. She's a variation of my owlie. I love her!

From now until Christmas I'm going to be sewing and knitting my fingers off. At some point this whole making people stuff for Christmas thing started getting out of hand, but it's worth it!

Okay. So, I like to celebrate unusual things. Random holidays for example. One of my favorites is this New Zealand holiday. Not that New Zealand holidays are unusual. They just qualify as unusual to me, seeing as I'm not a New Zealander.

In January I look forward to Dress Up Your Pet Day. It's January fourteenth and none of you should pass up this opportunity to pamper/humiliate the critters you love. The day after Christmas I'm going to start knitting this kitty hoodie. I know Kimchi will never forgive me, but I can't help myself. He'll just be so darn cute and cozy.

Today I want to celebrate my 105th post. Why I didn't feel as if I should celebrate the 100th, I'm not so sure.

Anyhow, I've been blathering for quite some time now and I just love it. Letting some of the nonsense in this head of mine out to play is a good thing. I thank anyone who has the attention span to muddle through it, and I love to read your comments. By "your" I mean my faithful few. You now who you are. THE ONLY ONES READING THIS.

I try not to compare Matt, Ben and Chris' gazillion comments to my two-maybe three? I'm going for quality not quantity here, people.

Oh, who am I kidding? I covet commentage! There! I've said it and I'm glad! Glad!

I will press forward undaunted.

*Sniff*

As if I too am a successful male blogger with an entourage of female followers.

*Sniff*

I will triumph!

Chunks of love to my loyal subjects. All three or four of you. One loves you. Kiss. Kiss.

It's Not Pleasant

Alright. I guess we know where we all stand. I'm getting ready for work as we speak/type/read/whatever. So, I'm going to let it slide that y'all didn't have my back on this whole positive thinking ice thing. I can be benevolent and just let it go. I can.

Today has been a rough morning, already. Last night was a rough night. It seems, and I think a few of you can back me up on this, that today just sucks. It sucks. It sucks. It sucks.

Last night I had an unpleasant "discussion" with my husband person. Although resolved at this point, it still ruined my night.

Then I dropped my blueberry bagel, slathered with cream cheese, face down in the sink before beginning this post on this non-icy, once potentially awesome day.

Next, on my way in to work I'm supposed to pick up a donation. One that had been confirmed for our shelter this Christmas. I call ahead and do my spiel to this guy. No donation. No concern. No brain.

And I have now come to the realization that I am wearing mismatched socks, and I'm not changing it (No those are not my mismatched socks pictured above. I'm pretty sure those are hobbit feet.).

The only perks to this day thus far have been:
a) It's gorgeous outside
b) Your posts make me smile*

Maybe things are looking up? Have a good day and weekend.

*Thus, my mercy upon you for the non-icy day I'm having. ^__^