Deviant Dispatches

(At least, to one who understands language.) I don't think I need to emphasize too heavily that there's swearing ahead ... . If you weren't lying on the floor like an asshole,  then maybe I wouldn't have stepped on you. You JUST ate. You're not good enough to deserve more food yet. If you keep whining, I will never feed you again. No, I'm not letting you outside today. Or tomorrow. Or ever. If you wake me again tonight, I'm going to lock you in the basement for the next six hours. Stop licking  my hand,  you horse's ass. Maybe if you behave, I won't get rid of you. Get off my pillow or I will throw you across the room. Look! It's the neighbor's angry dog. You should go outside and play with it! Stop peeing in your cage. We're only going to the doctor. (For some reason, I imagine this being said by Brock Samson of Venture Brothers.)

It's been a while. The short explanation is stress and lots to do, but here's a long answer for those who enjoy hearing such things. Source 1. House hunting. Spousal Unit and I have pulled out the big guns and are cautiously stalking our prey, waiting for the right one to line up in our sights. Actually, I take that back. I'm the one using a gun, so that when the right house jumps in front of me, I can scream in terror and shoot a wonderful idea full of Holes of Terror and Second-Guessing. Spousal Unit is using a net, because he's more sensible about this stuff. As much as I'm great at being frugal, I find it impossible to recognize frugality in large purchases. No matter what I'm getting for the money, I can't help but feel shocked at the numbers. This includes computers, cars, and anything else you can't find in working order at Savers or Goodwill. Spousal Unit can recognize good deals in big numbers; I'm good at curling into a ball and a...

The cats haven't terrorized the tree too badly yet; it's been knocked over once, but it only fell halfway, thanks to a nearby chair, and nothing fell off of it. One ornament has been broken, but it wasn't sentimental, and it was a small enough break that it's not noticeable by anyone who isn't as freakishly detail-focused as me. Mostly, they like to sit under the tree, peering out at us one-lifed creatures. Somehow, I feel like we don't have as many surface-dwelling decorations as we did last year. No boxes are missing; I think we might just have more surfaces. So I'm making do by spreading them thinly between rooms until I can find a good Christmas sale. I like my decorating style.

Source My apologies at this extended hiatus, and at the general lack of blogginess in the last few weeks. I've had some kind of awful bug that started with a hoarse voice, interimed with a cold, and seems to have settled on an unconsolable sore throat. Today features yet another doctor's visit so that I can do little things like eat oatmeal  without getting a lecture from my tonsils against ingesting things that feel like this. Source See you soon, I hope.

When we first moved back to Wisconsin, Spousal Unit's mom got us a Thanksgiving cactus (much like a Christmas cactus, but also different). That year, it bloomed, and it had the most beautiful flowers. Over the course of the next year, an apocalyptic mayhem was apparently wrought upon it by yours truly. A few sprigs of cactus fell off, much like the fabled Charlie Brown tree . And in its little plant mind, it screamed at me, "Why?! Oh, why would you do this to me?! For the love of GOD, just end it already!" And then we got cats. Titania is our mountain climber, nibbler, and all-purpose troublemaker. She steals yarn from my lap while I'm using it, eats candy wrappers that have any bit of chocolate stuck to them (yes, the whole wrapper), and tries to destroy our pipes by shredding the insulation off of them. (I don't let  her do any of these things, but when the human's away ...) Spousal Unit and I were still surprised (and horrified) when she de...

You haven't had cats in a while. You've been good, though. You get cats today. Here is my typical writing station. Titania and Oberon are concerned that I'm taking pictures instead of writing. I'm glad to have such picturesque kitties. Not that I love them for their looks, but it helps when one needs blog photos.

Last weekend was good stuff. I cuddled my kitties. My mom came to town - we went shopping, had tea, and got crafty (and if you were wondering, this is where I get it from). We saw horribly, terribly, gaudily ugly Christmas sweaters by the pound, way too early in the season. We ate Cheeseburgers in Paradise  ... ... And crazy drinks to go with them. All Spousal Unit ordered was lemonade  and it came like this. Mom had a Mai Tai! We were all confused about their hiring tactics. Not sure what an "ass host" is. One of the best parts for Mom was seeing the huge tree lit up in Greenway Station. (But don't tell Neal.)

Our cat Titania, adorable and sweet as she can be, really freaks me out sometimes. This usually happens in the middle of the night. Early on, she doesn't come to cuddle; she stays away until we're half asleep. Then she hops on the bed, walks up next to my back, and falls over into me as though she's lost all muscle control. Then we all fall asleep. Things are fine for the first few hours, but usually, I wake up at some point in the night. Maybe it's a loud truck passing by; maybe it's a storm. After the disturbance has passed, I notice the kitty beside me, zonked out. At least, I think she is. She's so still and so quiet that I start to get worried. She's never  this motionless - she's a little terror, running from room to room, knocking over vases and eating plants and stealing my yarn. In my sleep-addled mind, there is no good reason for her to be like this. I lift one of her legs and it just plops down beside her. And then I think that I...

It's been an interesting week. We hung up our first Halloween decoration. I found The Most Gorgeous Tomato in the World. (On the inside, at least.) Titania decided to become a heating specialist. She's been randomly taking apart the baseboard heaters while playing with her catnip mouse. And I made beet chips for the first time. Here's a brief tutorial on how not  to make beet chips. 1. Pay attention to the timer. 2. If the timer goes off while you're on the phone with your mom, set it again instead of thinking, I'll remember to take them out when we're done talking . Moms are understanding like that. Edit: I have no idea why I dubbed this post "Week 2." There is no earthly reason that this could be considered Week 2 of anything at all. Even in football, this is the end of Week 3. I am very confused by my brain.

Don't let the picture fool you - they're little terrors. 10 p.m. - Yarn, my evil nemesis, we meet again. I am here to attack you. Oh, sorry, was your leg on the other side of that yarn? (Attacks it again.) 12 a.m. - Midnight snack time. Where's my favorite plant?... 1 a.m. - Cuddle interlude. 1:30 a.m. - I MUST RUN FROM ROOM TO ROOM FOR NO REASON. 1:45 a.m. - The wild lioness stalks her prey, an unsuspecting fly. (Crashing noises from somewhere in the apartment.) 3 a.m. - Look! Another enemy to attack! I bet it's delicious. (Claws at unsuspecting feet.) 4 a.m. - I MUST RUN FROM ROOM TO ROOM FOR NO REASON. 4:15 a.m. - Nap. 5 a.m. - Hey, are you awake yet? No? (Attack on plants, feet, and fly all at once.) You awake now? 5:30 a.m. - Intermittent meowing to summon my lord from the underworld isn't working. Perhaps if I sit on this sleeping head while doing it... 6:15 a.m. - Thank goodness  you're awake! I was on the verge of starvation. I...

Source 1. They both like to smack each other around. 2. The highest point in the vicinity makes them king of the mountain - even if it's only two feet higher than everything around it. 3. I might also be allergic to mountain goat noses. I have no reason to suspect this, but hey, it's possible. 4. They will eat (or try to eat) almost anything I leave lying it around. For all I know, a mountain goat might also decide to regurgitate something it has eaten in a mysterious corner of the house, staining the carpet a weird shade of blue. 5. They  look legless  when they curl up on the ground. 6. Their feet can inflict a great deal of pain. 7. If there is one in my apartment, chances are it won't take long to destroy something of mine - like my sweater (story coming later this week).

My poor Snoopy. Yesterday, while unwinding after work, the kitty Oberon was hanging out on the couch and decided that walking across the tiny end table to get to me on the other side was a great idea. It's not the first time he's had this idea, and usually, I shoo him off before he can get too far. This time, though, I was too absorbed in whatever I was doing. He stood his fat butt on the wrong side of this little three-legged table (it's supposed to have three legs), and he tipped the entire thing over. Among other items on this little table was my snow globe Snoopy, which hit the computer table and shattered, leaving shards of glass and glitter all over. I can't believe it bothered me so much, but it did: I sobbed. I've had it since at least college - maybe earlier - and it was a present from my mom. As I wrote about a few years ago , this little figurine has always been my little writing muse, a reminder that Snoopy hasn't given up on writing and n...

Today's a good day for cat pictures, so that's what you're getting. Beware: the first one is a demon cat.

Source Due to a late Blackhawks game, not falling asleep till midnight, and a thunderstorm that decided I was being too sleepy, you get this picture of Thor Kitty instead of a blog today. I shall return later in the week with more hijinkery and shenanigans. Because that's what I do.

I do not always cuddle, but when I do, it's 4 a.m. and your leg looks like a scratching post.  I do not always hide in shopping bags, but when I do, I seem to be plotting your demise... because I am. They are the most average cats in the world. But not to me.

Lack of sleep has made me loopy and zombified. To conserve energy, all I'm posting today are these cat pictures. Enjoy.

Source Today, I'm backing up the blog. Enjoy another gorgeous day - go for a walk, plant some flowers, throw a frisbee, or throw on a black cloak and pretend you're a vampire. I'll see you Thursday.

I've shared this xkcd a million times. Never gets old. When your 10:30 bedtime rolls around, you can say, "Nah... Time for another episode of Arrested Development." You worry about the little fuzzballs/poopers when you go away, but it's oddly satisfying that you have a little someone to worry about. Mama always said you could be whatever you want when you grow up. Turns out you're not limited to one choice! You can be an astronaut, a firefighter, and a teacher! (Though why would you ever quit being an astronaut ?) Learning doesn't stop after school is done. (Check out the Richat Structure !) Dancing to your favorite songs for half an hour is totally exercise. There are lots of fun ways to exercise as an adult... It's harder to make new friends as an adult, but you can pick your friends' traits, to a degree. Want to make friends with an artist? Take an art class . A marine biologist? Talk to the people who run the local aquarium . Yo...

Apparently the cats are big fans of modern art. And installation pieces. It's not like I was unaware of this; they've made smaller installation pieces before, but always with yarn that wasn't attached to a project. Whoever made the sock yarn piece was much less imaginative about it. Luckily, neither of my projects were damaged, and the yarn isn't too terribly tangled. Unfortunately, I was apparently very inspired by their work, and decided to make some installation art of my own. There's a lot more to this piece, but it's hard to photograph against the white linoleum.

My cat is a plant fiend. The bedroom has become a veritable jungle of plants, every surface littered with them. Spousal Unit and I keep the door closed so that she doesn't destroy them. There are a select few plants in the living room with which she has no qualms, but I'm really eager for the day when I feel comfortable putting the plants out on the deck. (Yes, we're still at risk for snow.) As it stands, we've tried several times to let the wee ones in the bedroom at night. Oberon is a gentlemanly feline, content to curl up at the end of the bed or on a discarded pair of pants for the night. He does have his faults, of course (deciding, at  2 a.m., that the world is dirty and must be cleaned, and licking it all with his industrial-strength tongue), but Titania is the real culprit. In the middle of the night, she'll get up and start munching the plants. We have not yet gotten through a night without her green hunger awakening, and thereby waking us. The cats g...