I need to make a playlist of punk music to cry to. It will consist of Against Me!, The Menzingers, The Ataris, Hot Water Music, and Jawbreaker.
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Monday, September 29, 2014
Cat TV
My cats are so lazy. Other people's cats go crazy when you bust out the laser pointer. It's actually entertaining. Mine get smart to it and just lay down, while lazily putting out a paw like Daria.
But don't even think about stopping. If my arm gets tired and I decide to put the toy away before they're ready, the cats will immediately start meowing and pawing at my chair. Spoiled brats.
Emmy is still meowing at me as I type this, and jumping on and off my chair. Ugh...
Today was National Coffee Day so I actually got dressed and went through the drive-thru. Not that there's anything wrong with the coffee I make... but I've gotten quite bored with it since I've basically been a shut-in for the past two weeks (due to the bronchitis). Plus, I was originally attempting to go to the grocery store, but I just didn't have the energy for that much. I hate going even when I'm well.
I almost called the doctor last week, but then I got into a fight with mom and said to hell with it. Not that I needed an excuse... I've been trying to avoid all things medical until I get my insurance sorted out. This whole healthcare.gov thing is the biggest bunch of bullshit I've ever dealt with. I've been dealing with this shit for 2 months now, getting the runaround, just to have my state finally make a determination and volley me back at the federal government. Seriously? WTF. I've dealt with gallstones, an infected toe, bronchitis, a major allergic reaction all over my body, and another unrelated rash all while waiting for my goddamn insurance. If I had anything serious, I would be dead by now.
But don't even think about stopping. If my arm gets tired and I decide to put the toy away before they're ready, the cats will immediately start meowing and pawing at my chair. Spoiled brats.
Emmy is still meowing at me as I type this, and jumping on and off my chair. Ugh...
Today was National Coffee Day so I actually got dressed and went through the drive-thru. Not that there's anything wrong with the coffee I make... but I've gotten quite bored with it since I've basically been a shut-in for the past two weeks (due to the bronchitis). Plus, I was originally attempting to go to the grocery store, but I just didn't have the energy for that much. I hate going even when I'm well.
I almost called the doctor last week, but then I got into a fight with mom and said to hell with it. Not that I needed an excuse... I've been trying to avoid all things medical until I get my insurance sorted out. This whole healthcare.gov thing is the biggest bunch of bullshit I've ever dealt with. I've been dealing with this shit for 2 months now, getting the runaround, just to have my state finally make a determination and volley me back at the federal government. Seriously? WTF. I've dealt with gallstones, an infected toe, bronchitis, a major allergic reaction all over my body, and another unrelated rash all while waiting for my goddamn insurance. If I had anything serious, I would be dead by now.
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Sick and tired... and cats
Emmy has learned that she can get my attention by jumping on and off my chair. I am doomed.
Seriously, I've been fighting the worst case of bronchitis for like 2 weeks now, but the cats do not care. They want soft food and playtime. Lots and lots of fucking playtime. Emmy will wear out Estel pretty quickly, then turn to me when he takes a nap. (Lazy ass cat.) I don't know what she expects me to do when I'm this sick, but she will bug me for hours at a time. Maybe I should just pretend to sleep like Estel?
Seriously though, she's starting to get destructive. She'll put her claws all over my chair. Anything she can do to get my attention. But she's not like this when I'm not around. She literally only does this to get my attention. The same way Estel paws at Tyler's dresser when he wants my attention, or taps me on the arm. I'm going to end up with a destroyed computer chair unless I can figure out a way to wear her out without wearing myself out. Why isn't Estel shouldering more of the burden, damn it? Also, when am I finally going to feel well again? :(
Seriously, I've been fighting the worst case of bronchitis for like 2 weeks now, but the cats do not care. They want soft food and playtime. Lots and lots of fucking playtime. Emmy will wear out Estel pretty quickly, then turn to me when he takes a nap. (Lazy ass cat.) I don't know what she expects me to do when I'm this sick, but she will bug me for hours at a time. Maybe I should just pretend to sleep like Estel?
Seriously though, she's starting to get destructive. She'll put her claws all over my chair. Anything she can do to get my attention. But she's not like this when I'm not around. She literally only does this to get my attention. The same way Estel paws at Tyler's dresser when he wants my attention, or taps me on the arm. I'm going to end up with a destroyed computer chair unless I can figure out a way to wear her out without wearing myself out. Why isn't Estel shouldering more of the burden, damn it? Also, when am I finally going to feel well again? :(
Friday, September 26, 2014
Halloween Cat: our newest fluffy edition to the family
 |
| Ember |
A little over a month ago (Thursday August 7th, to be precise), we found a fluffy ball of fur hiding under my car along with her twin sister and Yellow Cat. We had just got home from target with random groceries, including Snickerdoodle mix, and were stepping outside for more bags when we noticed the cats. Yellow cat and the twin immediately ran out from under the car, but Emmy stayed behind. The other cats peeked their heads around the fence one last time as if to encourage her to follow them, but she seemed glued to the tired she was hiding behind. We went back into the house for a ribbon and some kitten food, which allowed us to coax her from her hiding spot. She loooooooves ribbons. I nicknamed her Snickerdoodle for the time being.
After playing with her for most of the evening, we left some food and water for her and then went back inside. But my heart was tugging. I hated leaving the poor baby out there. I posted on facebook to see if any of my friends would like to adopt her and I got a bite. That was all the excuse I needed to bring her in the house. I woke up the boyfriend and told him to fill up the extra litter box while I lured her with some food and ribbons. She was inside in two seconds, and that was pretty much it. My friend called me the next day and said her husband wouldn't let her have the kitten (allergies), so I pretty much considered Ember to be ours. We kept her in the mudroom until she got a clean bill of health from the vet, but we did open the door for hours at a time to let the cats get used to each other. They took to each other quickly. It was less than a week and our new concern was keeping them away from each other until Emmy was tested.
Now we have two happy cats. Estel loves having a friend to play with, and they're teaching each other things. Emmy taught Estel how to make toys slide across the kitchen floor. And Estel taught Emmy to fear plastic bags... OK, so you can't win 'em all.
Emmy loves to play so much that she exhausts both me and Estel. She won't sit on my lap yet, but she'll happily lay on the floor and let me pet her until my hand is about to fall off. Near as we can figure, she's about a year old now. She grew a little after we first found her so I'd place her as a Virgo or Libra. My mom thinks she looks like a little owl. :3
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Descent into Madness - or the story of becoming a "cat person"
It's hard to believe I used to be a dog person.
When I was little I desperately wanted a dog, but my mother was against having pets. She had always gotten stuck taking care of her sister's pets as a child... a bird and a bunny - both of which bit and pooped a lot. So you can imagine her experience was hardly a pleasant one.
We managed to compromise on a turtle. I was still very young at the time, and given that my mom is a neurotic, she pretty much insisted on taking care of the poor thing because she was afraid I'd get salmonella or something. It didn't help that my turtle's food was a dry powder that had to be boiled with water to form a gelatin-like substance. I think it was mostly made of shrimp, which is kind of odd for a box turtle. But she'd turn her nose up at fruits and veggies. My baby was a carnivore.
So yeah... as you can imagine, my neurotic mother wouldn't let me near the stove. And well, she has a history of just taking things out of my hands and doing it herself because I'm not meeting some obscure measure of perfection. But that didn't stop her from bitching about the fact that she had to take care of my turtle. Whose fault was that, mom? Really?
Anyway, as much as I loved my turtle, I really craved a pet that could run around outside and play with me. Being an only child sucked at times. Don't get me wrong - I loved the peace and quiet, I loved not having my toys and clothes destroyed by some careless sibling, I loved that it meant my parents had more money to spend on me... but there were times when I was lonely and wanted a playmate. I'm pretty sure if I had had a dog I would have never wished for a sibling ever again.
As I got older... and grouchier, and more cynical, and introverted... I became less of a dog person. Suddenly their boundless energy and neediness began to wear me down rather than excite me for an adventure. Their constant need to lick my face became nerve-wracking as I reached the age when my face was covered in make-up to hide the zits I had popped. Their intrusiveness and constant need for attention made me shrink away to some dark corner with a book. And of course, my mom's paranoia that every dog was a vicious killer just waiting to attack began to play havoc with my anxiety.
Which is actually ironic since I have not been bitten by a dog, but I was bitten by a cat as a child. That's probably one of the big reasons I wasn't too keen on cats when I was little. I did love my grandma's neighbor's cat, but she very rarely came inside and would only let you get a few pets in before she'd return to whatever important cat things she had on her agenda that afternoon. It was actually the cat of another of my grandma's neighbors that attacked me. We had stepped inside this woman's kitchen because my mother was speaking to her about 'adult things' or whatever. I didn't even know the lady had a cat until that bastard sunk his teeth and claws into the back of my ankle. The damn thing was deranged (if only Jackson Galaxy had been around back then!). I was literally standing in the middle of the kitchen, not touching anything, and it came racing up the steps and latched onto me. That experience soured me against cats for over a decade.
So it's kind of odd, even to me, that by the time I hit college I was desperate for a cat. I can't even pinpoint when the change happened... it just sort of did. Next thing ya know, I'm obsessed with getting a cat... but I still couldn't have one yet. I had to go home on breaks, and my mom absolutely refused to let a cat in her home even temporarily. It wasn't until my boyfriend and I moved in together that I finally got my wish. He just happened to have acquired a cat right before he met me. Now that's what I call icing on the coincidence cake! And as you all know, I have since become obsessed with my little furball (though trust me, I was just as bad about my turtle and goldfish too. Instagram just hadn't been invented yet). Consider me a cat person for life!
When I was little I desperately wanted a dog, but my mother was against having pets. She had always gotten stuck taking care of her sister's pets as a child... a bird and a bunny - both of which bit and pooped a lot. So you can imagine her experience was hardly a pleasant one.
We managed to compromise on a turtle. I was still very young at the time, and given that my mom is a neurotic, she pretty much insisted on taking care of the poor thing because she was afraid I'd get salmonella or something. It didn't help that my turtle's food was a dry powder that had to be boiled with water to form a gelatin-like substance. I think it was mostly made of shrimp, which is kind of odd for a box turtle. But she'd turn her nose up at fruits and veggies. My baby was a carnivore.
So yeah... as you can imagine, my neurotic mother wouldn't let me near the stove. And well, she has a history of just taking things out of my hands and doing it herself because I'm not meeting some obscure measure of perfection. But that didn't stop her from bitching about the fact that she had to take care of my turtle. Whose fault was that, mom? Really?
Anyway, as much as I loved my turtle, I really craved a pet that could run around outside and play with me. Being an only child sucked at times. Don't get me wrong - I loved the peace and quiet, I loved not having my toys and clothes destroyed by some careless sibling, I loved that it meant my parents had more money to spend on me... but there were times when I was lonely and wanted a playmate. I'm pretty sure if I had had a dog I would have never wished for a sibling ever again.
As I got older... and grouchier, and more cynical, and introverted... I became less of a dog person. Suddenly their boundless energy and neediness began to wear me down rather than excite me for an adventure. Their constant need to lick my face became nerve-wracking as I reached the age when my face was covered in make-up to hide the zits I had popped. Their intrusiveness and constant need for attention made me shrink away to some dark corner with a book. And of course, my mom's paranoia that every dog was a vicious killer just waiting to attack began to play havoc with my anxiety.
Which is actually ironic since I have not been bitten by a dog, but I was bitten by a cat as a child. That's probably one of the big reasons I wasn't too keen on cats when I was little. I did love my grandma's neighbor's cat, but she very rarely came inside and would only let you get a few pets in before she'd return to whatever important cat things she had on her agenda that afternoon. It was actually the cat of another of my grandma's neighbors that attacked me. We had stepped inside this woman's kitchen because my mother was speaking to her about 'adult things' or whatever. I didn't even know the lady had a cat until that bastard sunk his teeth and claws into the back of my ankle. The damn thing was deranged (if only Jackson Galaxy had been around back then!). I was literally standing in the middle of the kitchen, not touching anything, and it came racing up the steps and latched onto me. That experience soured me against cats for over a decade.
So it's kind of odd, even to me, that by the time I hit college I was desperate for a cat. I can't even pinpoint when the change happened... it just sort of did. Next thing ya know, I'm obsessed with getting a cat... but I still couldn't have one yet. I had to go home on breaks, and my mom absolutely refused to let a cat in her home even temporarily. It wasn't until my boyfriend and I moved in together that I finally got my wish. He just happened to have acquired a cat right before he met me. Now that's what I call icing on the coincidence cake! And as you all know, I have since become obsessed with my little furball (though trust me, I was just as bad about my turtle and goldfish too. Instagram just hadn't been invented yet). Consider me a cat person for life!
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
macaron
I'd really like to try a macaron. They look so delicious... and pretty. But I admit trepidation. I fear I won't like them. And it's a strange fear... because why am I so emotionally invested in the taste of this item matching the prettiness? So often I find that the prettiest, most perfect looking confections taste too sugary or gross. So I often avoid the all too perfect fondant confections and artisinal baked goods. But sometimes the 'ugly' ones taste worst.
I've had whoopie pies before - the American version of the macaron. They were huge, bloated monstrosities larger than my hand, stuffed with cream that was more sugary than creamy. I felt like I was eating a lead weight. The denseness that lay heavy in my stomach was not worth the mediocre taste. By comparison, macarons look so delicate and airy. I just want it to be true.
We used to have a French bakery in town but they never had macarons. I imagine if they were still in business, they would have capitalized on the trend by now... and consequently, I would have had a true macaron in my stomach already. But as it stands, I really don't know of any place nearby that would make them, and make them properly. Just another one of the joys of living in Mid-Western suburbia.
This post has been brought to you by too much coffee and a lack of macarons.
I've had whoopie pies before - the American version of the macaron. They were huge, bloated monstrosities larger than my hand, stuffed with cream that was more sugary than creamy. I felt like I was eating a lead weight. The denseness that lay heavy in my stomach was not worth the mediocre taste. By comparison, macarons look so delicate and airy. I just want it to be true.
We used to have a French bakery in town but they never had macarons. I imagine if they were still in business, they would have capitalized on the trend by now... and consequently, I would have had a true macaron in my stomach already. But as it stands, I really don't know of any place nearby that would make them, and make them properly. Just another one of the joys of living in Mid-Western suburbia.
This post has been brought to you by too much coffee and a lack of macarons.
Friday, April 25, 2014
OotD: Bleach
Just a pic spam post today. Not much really happened. Ran a few errands, went to dinner with the parents, and got coffee with friends. Le boyfriend did buy two pairs of replacement sunglasses today. Hopefully these last longer than his last pair!
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