June 19, 2007
I Am a Lap, I Am an Island
One of the things I love most about kids and animals is they are oblivious to the notion that your body might not be designed purely for their comfort and pleasure. So they feel free to roam, perch, push and pull to their heart's content without the least bit of guilt.
Being a lap/trampoline makes me very happy.
Of course, when your lap is entirely occupied with 25 lbs of fur, sometimes studying is difficult.
Luckily, you can always exact your revenge via sudden, startling movements.
That is #1 of the three most exciting things to happen to me in the last week.
#2.
I was walking on the apartment complex's treadmill, learning about damages in quasi-contract cases (fascinating, truly), when this man, who may or may not be a one-time reality TV star, I shall not say, came into the gym, telling his blonde ladyfriend he'd see her up in the apartment in five minutes. I was perplexed -- what did he plan on doing in five minutes in the gym? Some quick bicep pulls before dinner? "People in LA are weird," is probably what I thought to myself because this is a thought I have almost daily.
Oh no. What he was planning on doing was taking a giant (I assume), STINKY POO in the gym bathroom and then leaving me behind to try to remember to breathe through my mouth for the next 42 minutes.
I have forgiven him, however, because hey, wise choice, dude. You were right to think that stench could have scared off your lady. And also, his little daschund is really cute and he seems like a loving pet dad, walking it eleventy times a day. Even steven.
#3.
The Boy expressed a sudden desire for fish this weekend, and I complied.
I did not know his desire was inspired by the new Filet-o-Fish commercials for McDonald's. Perhaps if I had I would have made something a little different, not involving capers and bacon for goodness' sake. But I'm happy I made what I did. I've never really made fish before, and it turned out great. Plus, I learned a bit. For instance, did you know that "boned" actually means "deboned?" Yes? Good for you. You are not an idiot. I am. Also, I mean seriously, what side would you think FLESH side would be? The non-skin side? Well, lucky you, again: not an idiot. I spent about 15 minutes in existential debate about this issue before giving in and looking it up online.
We also made the EASIEST DESSERT EVER. Oh, Barefoot Contessa, you rocked my fruit-avoiding mouth with this one AND gave me an excuse to buy some really good balsamic vinegar, which I have been wanting to do for FOREVER. Yay, Ina!
In margarita glasses, with a sprig of mint for garnish. And really, there's only one thing you can do with leftover mint, no? MOJITOS.
The chance that I might give up early one night this weekend and make myself one (or two)? The only thing getting me through my arch nemesis, effectiveness of assignments against the obligor. That and some more lap time. Gah.
Posted by jen at 10:39 PM | Comments (7)
March 14, 2007
Papa's Got a Brand New Bag
Today The Boy and I had to spend all day at his apartment waiting for UPS to get off its collective brown ass and deliver him a laptop bag. This was extra vexing because today was the day we had planned to go get a bamboo steamer so we could try to recreate The Best Dumplings Ever. NOTHING comes between me and my pork burps, man, NOTHING!
This also meant I missed flamenco with Gloria this evening. Which is risky, very risky, my friends. I cannot flamenco. It took everything in me to return for week #2. Actually, I never would have gone back at all if I hadn't opened my big mouth. Right afterwards, on some kind of golpe-fueled, post-CRYING BECAUSE OF FLAMENCO CLASS high, I made the mistake of saying (out loud): "You know what. That sucked. But I usually quit at anything I suck at. I'm going to stick this out!" You try turning yellow without looking like a big ole douche after that. I'm just hoping my sense of moral obligation hasn't worn off next week.
In any case, 7 hours after scheduled delivery, his laptop case arrived and we high-tailed it back to my place to see whether Fred & Ethel had survived a full 14 hours without food (they had, but they have not left our sides since we got back). We're driving along and The Boy says, "You know what I love? I love that we haven't even gotten to your place yet and already my bag has some cat hair on it."
You know what I love? That his bag has cat hair on it already and he just thinks it's funny.
Posted by jen at 09:37 PM | Comments (6)
March 07, 2006
The Great Cat Scratch Incident of 2006 by Gimpy McBloodyLeg
Last night I had Ethel, the skittish one, on my lap, and Fred, the feisty one, attacked my toes in jealousy.
I made the mistake of flinching. The fallout?
Just as you should never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line, so should you never NEVER make any sudden moves when Ethel is on your lap.
I don't know what you call your pets -- or, as my Animal Shelter Law class is teaching me to call them, your companion animals -- but in my house, they are always BlanketyMcBlankyblank. For example:
- Fatty McBiggums
- Stinky McFartums
- Assbutt McCharlatan (when Fred wakes me up early in the morning, but spoken in such a loving voice it only prods him on with his toe-pouncing, damn him)
- Lovey McNoodlepuss
- Psycho McSchadenfreude
- Boompy McDoodums
- Goofy McGiggles
And so on.
You wouldn't think that SleepyMcTwinkletoes and HunkyMcRunningback could do that much damage, would you?
Well.
You were not present for the The Great Cat Scratch Incident of 2006, were you?
Hrmph.
Signing off,
Martyr McPityPuss
Posted by jen at 09:59 PM | Comments (14)
November 15, 2005
Sleeps with the Fishes
I have never mentioned my other pet, Punxsutawney Phil. My betta fish. I got him to be a pet for Fred & Ethel. CatTV.
Unfortunately, F&E like a little more interactive entertainment than I had anticipated, so I had to move him onto my armoire, where F&E are too fat to jump.
But even though he wasn't serving his original purpose, I grew to love little Phil. Even liked dropping his bloodworms (ew!) into his tank every morning.
But this morning, I went to drop them in and little Phil wasn't swimming any more. No, he was stuck at the bottom of the tank, pale and lifeless with his little fishy mouth open.
This is a little maudlin, I suppose, and I'm sorry, but I'm sad to lose my little Phil.
At least he got to see a little bit of California before he passed. Twice I drove him and F&E up to Redding to see the 'rents. Losing half his tank of water each time. I guess I could have been a little lighter on the accelerator, but don't you think he enjoyed a little fishy thrill?
I like to think that Phil was cursing the bastard CHP who gave me that ticket (even though I CRIED) in Colusa county. And that he had a little giggle outside of Harris Ranch when, after stopping for gas and spying a bunch of kittens near the dumpster, I left them a pile of food and somehow accidentally left the bowl on my hood, making a terrific crash as I headed onto the onramp and it flew off into I-5 oblivion.
So RIP, Phil. I'm glad I knew you.
Posted by jen at 11:32 PM | Comments (13)
November 02, 2005
Close Encounters of the Cat Kind
Last night I thought maybe if I put out some extra food Fred wouldn't wake me up so early.
This morning I realized I could build an entire Devil's Tower out of tuna in my living room and that cat would still be biting my toes at 5:30 a.m.
If the aliens do come, they can have 'em.
Posted by jen at 10:57 PM | Comments (12)
September 07, 2005
The Big Goose Egg
It's 10:15 on Wednesday night. Tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. I have my interview with one of the only big, sweatshop firms I have a chance with.
Five minutes ago I went to go empty the litter box and, because I am exhausted, totally banged my head on a shelf giving myself a nice big bump on one of my already prominent frontal protuberances.
My question.
Do I:
a) Stay up a couple extra hours icing my forehead in the hopes that the consequences of neither of the following two occasions reoccur:
- That time in third grade when I played center field (before I moved up to third base) on my softball team and I took one between the eyes that quickly drained to my face until I had two black eyes for weeks.
- That time in ninth grade when my normally gentle brother Jeff whacked me so hard I had a goose egg in the middle of my forehead so big it parted the waters of my hair-sprayed bangs.
b) Go to bed and hope for the best.
What makes this even THAT MUCH BETTER is Ethel. Ethel, who loves to bat things off their perches -- earrings, water glasses, wine glasses FULL OF RED wine, my reading assignments. Bat them off and then either sleep on them or steal them away somewhere. Because Ethel has batted my concealer off into the dark underbelly of my apartment, never to be seen again.
I foresee an angry, black-eyed trip to Rite-Aid in the morning.
Kisses, Fred & Ethel!
Posted by jen at 10:18 PM | Comments (10)