Saturday, January 31, 2009

Kittens! Are Full of Vinegar

Specifically Snugglebug. She's completely unhinged. Here's her video:

A longer version can be seen here.

I've never seen a cat get so worked up. She was actually panting. Panting! I suppose the new scratching post was a great investment, but honestly she loses her damn mind. This is without the help of a catnip rubdown, which was recommended in order to get her "interested" in the new scratching post. Still, watching a little maniac work herself into a bug-eyed frenzy is something to behold. Of course, this was her for 5 hours afterward:

Jack was having none of it. I'd never seen evidence of his nails until today when a good brushing had him rolling around on the ground, purring and stretching in kitten ecstasy. For all the fear he harbours, he never bites and never uses his nails. If I just keep showing him there is nothing to fear I am sure he will come completely out of his shell. Also, I know the singing helps. Yasmin wanted to know what I sing to them. Sometimes it is made up songs ("Piggy one and piggy two, I surely do love yoooou" and so on), but most of the time it is whatever comes to mind. A sampling:

As a PS of sorts: I watched Mission to Mars for the first time today (as a sci fi whore, I guess I'll put any desperate ass thing on my Netflix list). Luckily it was one I could watch instantly because I would have been PISSED if I'd wasted a delivered DVD on this sorry piece of garbage. Have you ever watched a movie where the soundtrack (by which I mean the mood music) was so completely and utterly horrible that it was simply not to be believed? First, the music in the first half of the movie was completely unlike the music in the last part of the movie. Second, both halves sucked BALLS. It was kind of like the cheesy boopity boop boop music you might remember from the old maybe Starsky and Hutch...or Fantasy Island. On top of that, complete silliness prevailed throughout. I know I'm like 10 years behind the critics, but it was kind of unbelievable still. The actors were far too good to be in such a stinking poop heap (Tim Robbins, Gary Sinise, Don Cheadle) and it was incredible to think that this movie was released in this decade (2000). It is the WORST. Red Planet--not known as the paramount of sci fi cinema--was released in the same year, after all, and far surpasses the technical sophistication of Mission to Mars...not to mention the basic believability. UG. Even a sci fi whore has to have standards.

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Camera Hog

More great videos to come, because Snugglebug loooooves her new scratch post. As I write she's going absolutely batshit nuts. And I haven't even rubbed it down with catnip yet.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Kittens! She's Twice His Size Now

My Grill. Ur in it.

Am cuter than yoooouu.

He is patriotic.

She is drunk.

Look at that jealous face.

Total Wal Mart Family Photo. See how he turns his head to catch the light??
And finally, a series in cuuuuute...


Tuesday, January 27, 2009

More for Mom

Monday, January 26, 2009

For Mom

Saturday, January 24, 2009

New Sidebar Video

I've spent hours (HOURS) looking for this piece of music to share on this blog. It is NOWHERE. When I happened upon Sleeping with the Enemy playing on the WE channel today I thought YES, videotaped the end part, and proceeded to film the spookity Berlioz music parts over and over until I got something at least usable. I hate my camera (it is official now, for those taking score) because it makes an annoying ticky-ticky-ticky noise throughout. But whatever. FINALLY, the scary Sleeping with the Enemy music is in my hands!

Yazzle and I have had great fun associating this music with (I think) my OCD issues (hand washing, do not touch or lick my arm, etc.). Sometimes, when I am feeling particularly tight-faced and frenzied, I like to hum it in my office while wildly bathing in hand sanitizer. It just makes the dirt seem less dirty.

Of course, the association is to Martin Burney's need for organizing everything: his wife, his towels, his cans. Of course, he controls things with his fist, whereas I control things with my stern eyebrows...and my mind.

Not to over explain, but don't get your panties in a bunch about the domestic violence angle. I've run through the snow with my heart in my throat and I don't have to justify myself to anyone. In the end, when she calls the cops and tells them she's shot an intruder, don't think I'm not laughing and hollering every time. Because I am. No one should ever be that scared.

That being said, that music rocks my dirt free world. Here's the great part on the stairs (before the part shown in the sidebar) -- the music is featured better here, but without the cans, well, it's just not as...crazy.


Kittens! Chowing Down

This is not representative of the complete mania that usually greets me in the morning. Also, the radiator was hissing the whole time, so there's a lot of interference. However, you can hear Bug crying and, cuter still, you can see Jack's crazy jack o'latern eyes.

I was going to wait to post a video of the full-fledged lunacy (Snugglebug has no shame and has embraced the concept of Total, Nuclear Meltdown) but I had to post to announce that Jack really is coming out of his shell. For real!! Last night was the first time he sought me out for the sole purpose of being petted. At first I couldn't figure it out. I let him sniff my hand, thinking he'd bolt at any second, but he just waited patiently until I finally got the clue. *Total Joy!*

I was so afraid we were going to have a complete setback after taking them to the vet tonight. But he just came over for more pets and scratches!! And his face is different, too...I thought I was imagining things, but as I was petting him, I realized he was purring. I haven't heard him do that since the first day. He still startles and runs, but he really is coming around! Really Really Really! YAAAAY!!


Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Suck It, Australia

This commercial won’t stop playing. Every day, if the TV is on, then so is this crap, and I was sick of it the first time I saw it. Suck it, suckers!

Let’s start by stating the obvious: It is a lovely commercial. You could not ask for anything better cinematography-wise. I suppose the director being Baz Luhrmann has something to do with it. So, bravo.

I am pissed off by many commercials. I despise the ham-handed sex politics that pollute all ads, from floor wax to BMW’s. Men are stupid. Women are harpies. Wives live to humiliate husbands. Husbands are cartoonishly hopeless. Kids sure are rascals. Little fuckers.

The Australia commercial just plays to the newest tripe: Working women are no fun. And shouldn’t be working. And should be in Australia, swimming in a hole. She’s lost in a sea of responsibility, answering work calls in the pouring rain, answering lover calls in the dead of night, still at the office, buried in work. And the lovah? Oh, he needs a “break”—of course he does. This bitch works too hard. Yet he’s still calling her later in the commercial, just to ask in a peppy tone “How was your day?” When she tells the truth (it sucked, sucker!) he lays on the guilt again (O, I guess it’s never gonna change, is it?).

The remedy, it seems, is a walkabout. In expensive-ass Australia. A place most people can’t even afford to fly to. So, in order to go there, she’s kind of has to have a job that could pay for it, right? Possibly a high stress, demanding job? Perhaps. But it gets better. They swim in the clearwater, Australian swimming hole amidst a flurry of shiny bubbles. They smile as they frolic. So happy! And he says “I’m glad you’re back.” Aren’t we all.

Because vacations last forever. She’ll never have to go back to that high anxiety job to earn that money to pay for that trip…or at least a return ticket. Right? So, I guess he’s happy with her “in the moment” but when they pack up, leave all the half-used suntan lotion in the hotel room, and drag their sorry asses back to the airport, won’t they just morph into the same busy, gainfully employed, enviably well-off assholes they were before? Or does Australia claim to change entire lives? Come on a walkabout…and come back an unemployed, homeless happy person? Or, heyyy, maybe a happy, childful homemaker who is available for her man at all times?

Ultimately, the commercial makes me hate Australia. Thanks for making me feel:

1. Like a half person.
2. Poor.


Monday, January 19, 2009

Things That are Gross and Bad

I haven't seen Top Gun since it was originally in theaters. I remember two things from my original viewing:

1. It was boring.
2. I did not get the whole Tom Cruise thing.

It was on HBO today, so I watched it. I don't think I've rolled my eyes that many times during any movie, ever, let alone yelling "Oh for God's sake" and even gagging once. I made the mistake of eating lunch around the same time that the love scene played. Here, you should watch it, too. Make sure to look for Tom Cruise's fat, lazy tongue lolling about Kelly McGillis's mouth.

Other than the ridiculous love coupling, the movie is really nothing more than a lot of hand slapping and macho, sweaty posturing. Though I usually find old school Val Kilmer quite the honey, they all seemed like gross parodies of the worst kind of male: Egotistical, stupid, testosterone saturated fat heads. All with big, horny, white teeth. Ugh. I am usually a sucker for that male strutting, but this crap was artless, clumsy, and just very, very silly. If you want to see a nice piece of "historical" drama steeped in genuine macho hotness, give The Right Stuff a spin. Leave Top Gun where it belongs, in 1985.


Sunday, January 18, 2009

For Yasmin - Don't Lie Girl, You Know You Performed These In Your Living Room When You Got Home Last Night

Kittens! More Pix

Together at last!

Have you any Grey Poupon?



You no see me.


Friday, January 16, 2009

Battlestar Galactica

The beginning of the end starts tonight. I am already freaking out. Who would have ever believed that such a cheese-tastic 70s show would translate into one of the best shows ever. Ever.

Let's hope they finish it up with grand style. Gods know the season 3 finale had me jumping on the couch.

And how about a shout out to Jimi while we're at it.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Ba Bump Bump

I’ve never seen anyone fall all the way down on the subway before. I’ve seen people fall one quarter, one half, even three quarters of the way down, clutching and dragging on fellow passengers to avoid the horror of the dirt greased subway floor. I’ve heard excuse me’s, pardon me’s, and so sorry’s all in the space of the long seconds it takes to plunge from standing to almost (not quite!) “down for the count.”

Today was the very first day I saw someone go down. Downtown, Charlie Brown.

She was awful the second she entered the car. She had a catcher’s mitt face, black eyeliner, bad dye job, and a full length coat destined to jack her ass. She sashayed in, took inventory, and decided to stand on my shadow with her ass firmly planted 5 inches from my face. I’m in the hot crescendo of The Tommyknockers, lucky for her, or she might’ve gotten a surprise.

Before the train moved, she decided she didn’t want to stand here, she wanted to stand over there. Not sit, but stand. Same amount of people, all breathing their annoying breaths, but I guess it just looked nicer somewhere else. Maybe she felt my half-hearted ill will.

She didn’t hustle, scamper, or sprint. She moseyed. What an asshole. Did she forget that the train, in its deepest, most intimate motivations, lives only to move? Who can say. Or care. Except for that poor, poor woman who broke her fall, of course. She probably would have liked for Mz. Slowpants Longcoat to get a move on and grab the damn pole.

The train moved. She went down. She went down slllowwwww. She clutched here, snatched there, clung to the poor, poor woman who never asked to be involved in this mess. All the while (and the best goddamned part), the man opposite the poor, poor woman provided sportscaster commentary:

"OH what is this? Hey! Hey! What is the- Hey! Can I help you? Hey! Ma’am? Ma’am?
Hey! What is going on? Hello? Ma’am? Are you- Hey! Alright? "

And so on. And it didn’t end there. As she lounged on the floor, she proceeded to answer the man’s queries. (“No, no, no. Quite fine. No, I don’t need a seat. Everything is quite alright.” Etc.) It seemed like she was down there forever. Maybe she considered riding it out all the way.

Eventually she was torn off the floor by the fellow passengers (except for the poor, poor woman, who actually almost seemed to box at Longcoat as she slo-mo’d to the floor) and insisted on standing for at least into Brooklyn. She eventually sat down and proceeded to glare at everyone else on the train like a kicked cat.

As a side note, but important: She did NOT seem drunk. Or even high or on ludes. As we are all aware, people on ludes should not drive…or ride the damn train. But she seemed just too lazy to care for herself…until she was halfway down, of course. You should have boxed her damn ass, poor, poor woman!


Monday, January 12, 2009

Jack O' Latern Face

This is a hard face to catch, obviously. You can kind of see the crazy eye here, though.

And for Mz. Yasmin, BUMM BUMM BUMM BUMM BUMMM! Bong! Bong! (Actually, these could be much straighter.)


Sunday, January 11, 2009

On the Menu? Biscuits!

Friday, January 09, 2009

Hey Woman

Because I love it. And Toby knows how madly I do.

Thursday, January 08, 2009

Kittens! Have a Weakness...and I Have Found It

I still no like you.

It is called Fancy Feast Chicken in Gravy and it buys love...or at least momentary tolerance and abandonment of fear. Yes! I hadn't seen the little boy eat since he'd been with me, so last night, on the way home, I decided to score some high grade chum and to see if that would do the trick. I have learned three fantastic facts:

1. Jack (he's Jack to me now -- sorry to those who were enamoured with "dude" -- but this morning it occurred to me exactly what he reminds me of when he's giving me the crazy eye: Jack O'Lantern. That's right. And he is.) is an unrepentant PIG. He tucks into his food with fervor and rude smacking noises.
2. He still doesn't trust me one bit (and shouldn't since I am taking him to the vet tomorrow, poor thing) but is getting much bolder because he now understands that I am the Magical Bringer of Fancy Feast Chicken in Gravy. He tolerates my presence even as I am cleaning and sweeping when he used to cry at the first sight of me and actually peed when I picked him up. Progress! We'll see how this develops.
3. Cats and human children (especially siblings) have many things in common, including an in-born greed for whatever the other has. I gave them both the same thing but little SnuggleBug would not stop trying to sneak in on Jack's dish. He had it, therefore it must have been better.

(McBucketpants, that's a great idea, but I do not have a vacuum cleaner. Maybe I could get one of those hand held dealies? Or how about a hair dryer? I seem to recall seeing a cat walk the wall in response to the horror of a running hair dryer.)

Does it mean love when you have your twee kitten by the scruff for the sole purpose of picking her little nose? Bug has a snotty, crusty nose, but I cleaned it for her tonight. She was so appreciative that she sneezed right in my ear. Love Bug.

I kill it with my fang!

Oh, and just to prove that I haven't fallen completely off the edge of the planet, though clouds of candy-colored rainbows, then mists of urines and poos, and hailstorms of cat litter, into Kitten Planet, where the mews are plenty and the biscuits are never done kneading...something totally unrelated delighted me to NO END today as I was trying to find a good word to describe elbowing someone in the neck. (It was for an email where I was describing how I feel about SoHo.) I looked up "professional wrestling attacks" and Wikipedia gave me this most wonderful page. Just read the contents. It's all you really need to feel better again. Stinkface!


Tuesday, January 06, 2009

KIttens!...are Harrrrrrd

I'd rather be under the bed.

We are getting to know each other. It's been pretty trying because the antibiotics are making the little girl (most likely my "Bug," short for Snugglebug) a virtual fountain of poo. Rivers and rivers...of pooooo. And while the little boy (still unnamed, but most commonly referred to as "The Dude") is more alert, he is still very scared. He's great with the litter (except for some episodes under the bed that very well could have been her) and I would LOVE to just leave him be so that he doesn't have to feel afraid. Unfortunately I have to give them both a dose of antibiotics every day so I have to choice but to get him.

Last night was a pretty bad night, with loads of laundry and me on my knees cleaning up poop in every direction. It also took me almost an hour to chase him down for his medicine, which sucked for him because he was scared and sucked for me because I felt horrible doing it. Good exercise, though. I've been tired and nauseated for two days now, and what I wish for the most is the end of this horrid medicine. They said it would cause diarrhea and boy does it ever.

They are both quietly co-existing in the bathroom together this evening. I'd hoped to get her out for some play time in the living room, but the poo is still flowing freely so I am keeping them both in the sick room. Even though they seem not to like each other much, he seems comforted by her presence, so I'm leaving him there, too. The first night I had them, when he finally ventured out from under the bed, he found a safe spot in the kitchen (I'd put some towels down for him in a dark corner) and proceeded to cry and cry. He started out with these little chirps and worked up to full blown cries. He's not that loud, but the loneliness in it is so unbearable that I was up and down all night. I tried cooing at him, offering him food, talking to him...let's face it, I am not his mommy. Heartbreaking! Finally I thought maybe I should put him in with her. Even if they are not friends, she is, at least, a familiar. That did the trick. So that's where they stay at night.

I figure since they've lived in cages most of their little lives, the sick room (my once sparkling bathroom! weep!) is just a bigger version of that. I am going to go in there to play with her for awhile before I go to bed tonight. She'll probably be game, though she'll be pooing the whole time. Poor thing. We have instant love, by the way. She follows me everywhere and, at a less poopified time, she made biscuits on the back of my head and rolled around in my hair. Oh who am I kidding. I totally had poop particles in my hair. I know, I know.

PS. I'll take more pics when we are more normalfied. For now, enjoy these pics taken by Adair on adoption day. Thanks, Adair!


Sunday, January 04, 2009


Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! I know, right! It is true that they are not chickens (well, one of them isn't, anyway) but they sure are cuuuuuuuuute! I just got them today. It took forever for me to feel confident about adopting a new pet or pets, but I finally did it. I only filled out the application at 2 am on Saturday morning...she called last night to say there were kittens now available. So Adair helped me get them home and this is their first day with me. No names yet, but the tabby is leaning toward "Bug" because she is a snuggle bug.

The tuxedo hung out in sink for awhile. When I tried to bring him out with us, he checked out the scene and decided to take up residence under the bed. He still won't come out, so I am trying to not worry too much. Should I be worried? Should I leave him alone?


Anyway new kittens!

Also, they smell to high heaven. Apparently that is was the institutional smell is...guh.


Saturday, January 03, 2009

When Doves Cry

Those lucky friends who’ve had the pleasure of viewing some vintage 80’s photos of me have always been promised a viewing of “The Most Hilarious Photo Ever”…and here we finally are. Yes! In the process of searching for that elusive photo, I ran across a rich gully of hilarity, which I share with you now.

Note the Lisa-and-Wendy of Prince and the Revolution phase. O my Jesus, was this ever a hot look, especially back in the olden days of ’85 at my thugtastic middle school. It was all about Prince and the goddamn New Edition, which, at the time, I just did not get. Obviously I got the Prince love, though, as evidenced here. Let’s enjoy it together:

Also did you notice the Hot Slut shot? I was thirteen. My grampa FREAKED and it was a total “Scene from My Adolescence” when the photos came back from the photomat. Whatever. Notice how it looks just like this:

That’s right. Also note the heavy mascara problem at mid-center. Interesting note: This was a free pic taken at my church. Jesus made me do it. And I am not the only one (RIP, sweet Jesus lady):

Now, the Grande Finale. Sadly, as I scanned though so many photos, I realized that the image I’d always pictured was not, in fact, the worst. WOW. I mean, WOW. Let’s first picture the underlying symbolic image that formed our cultural stupidity:

It is true. Now, here is the photo I always referred to:

I know, right!? Wow. But man oh man does it get better…

Shame is radiating.

And yet I rock the minibang. She bang.

And this is senior year, as evidenced by the cheap-ass cloak and heavy application of lipstick. Total big-hair-and-heavy-makeup extravaganza. Jealous bitches!