Her Ladyship

Notes from the gutter.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Wrong on so many levels

Today, I drove past a McDonald's that was offering 50 McNuggets for $8.99. I think your heart would explode if you ate 50 of those in one sitting, and it's not like they refrigerate well. I realize that it's often cheaper to buy in bulk, but there has got to be a limit.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Oh, I'm ready

I would like to start this off with a PSA: I AM NOT PREGNANT, NOR DO I PLAN TO BE. However, I do have three friends who are in the family way right now so it does make you think. And not to downplay the trials of parenthood, but I honestly think owning Shrapnel for eleven years now* has prepared me quite well.

1. You know how they say once you have kids, you never go to the bathroom alone? Thanks to Shrapnel, that has been my life for the past 11 years. Adding to the fun since I moved to Texas is that I often have a snarling cat and barking dog fighting around me. Let me tell you, you don't know vulnerability until you are trapped in a very delicate position in the midst of a pet rumble.

2. This cat pukes all the time. I've had him checked up by several vets and they all say the same thing: cats throw up. (In fact, there was even a "King of the Hill" episode about it. And Hollywood wouldn't lie to us.) So I've just become accustomed to keeping my eyes on the ground when walking around the house. It only takes one barefoot "discovery" of a pile of cat puke to change your habits really quickly.

3. Cats are nocturnal, despite my every effort to train Shrapnel otherwise. After years of being awoken numerous times in the middle of the night, we have arrived at a detente: he comes to get me around 4AM, I get up, go to the bathroom, pet him and maybe give him a little water out of the faucet. Then we can all go back to bed for several hours. If he ever feels like he needs more attention than that, I have my trusty pressurized air can to squirt at him** and convince him otherwise.

4. Litterbox: enough said. Okay, well maybe this: it's under my desk, and at times I swear he's launching a chemical attack at me.

Ugh, a new pile of puke has been found. Duty calls. Tomorrow: another story about my kitty-cat! (Just kidding. If I didn't put a moratorium on this sort of thing, this blog would quickly devolve into "My Angelic Kitty-cat and How Awesome He Is.")

* Shrapnel was originally supposed to stay with me for six months while a friend worked overseas. What can I say, I'm a sucker. Although I must stay that for the first few months that I had him, I was tempted to put him in a box and ship him to his former owner.

** The air doesn't hurt him, I don't spray it in his eyes or anything like that. He just doesn't like the sound of it. It's gotten to the point where we just have to point at the can and look at him, and he takes off running.