New Friends

Toby loves his new kitten!

Played The Game

Last Saturday I visited Sophie. Sometime this summer, her friend Ruth who lives down the street told her that the local grocery store, I.G.A., was selling canning jars for $12 a dozen. That, People, is a DOLLAR A JAR, and Sophie's head almost exploded by that news. She was so bothered by this that she went so far as to call I.G.A and get the facts for herself. While they weren't $12, they were $7.99 plus tax, and the lady on the phone did the exact calculation for her reported back the total cost for a dozen canning jars.

Sophie's brain must have been spinning. She has DOZENS of canning jars in the basement, so she of course saw dollar signs on her little goldmine. She mentioned to me that she'd like to put 'em out at the end of the driveway with a For Sale sign, but I just pretended not to hear this request and muttered something along the lines of "good luck with that." I just knew if I got involved with that, I would be venturing into her cobwebby basement, which scares the living fuck outta me, cleaning and polishing jars, making signs, and then some yahoo would drive by, steal the jars and I would somehow need to compensate her for them. Not too far fetched of a scenario, Reader.

Well, as luck would have it, she read in the "Wanted" section of her little local newspaper that someone was looking to purchase canning jars. She called the number jackrabbit fast and the transaction was arranged. Now, all sorts of bad coulda broke - she's an old woman (92), inviting strangers into her home, etc etc. But she did have the foresight to call my father, who's two doors away and let him know when they were on their way over. It was a man and woman, in their fifties or so. Ever cautious, my father did a "drive by" and took down their license plate number in the event something went awry. There was a whole lotta activity going down on that little piece of country land.

Sophie managed to sell eight dozen canning jars for $4.50 a dozen. JACKPOT! If the story only ended there.

For my faithful reader who knows the stories of Sophie, she's always working some sort of angle to get something for nothing. We'll never know what actually transpired in that house during the Great Jar Sale of '09. But I do know this: Whatever went down, whatever was said, somewhere along the lines this couple felt compelled to come back and bring her two sackfuls of groceries. Sophie proudly showed me the list, she wrote everything that they gave her down on a scrap of paper. It went something like this:

2 halves of watermellon (sic)
5 large onions
2 bag noodles
1 great big head cabbage

I can't even remember what else, and don't want to make stuff up, but lemme tell you, it was a lot. She tried to give me a bag of noodles, but I refused to take 'em. If she wove a story so dire that they brought her food, she can keep the goods for herself.

The woman also told her to call her if she ever gets lonely or needs to go to the store or any other little thing she may need. I can just hear that couple twittering (not Twittering) about her on their way home: "What a darling little old lady! She's on her own! No family to look after her! Look at how good she does for herself! Selling her basement jars for a little extra money!!!"

People, if you only knew. I called Sophie on it, I asked her if she painted a picture of a dire little old lady, all alone in this world with barely enough to get by on, and she just shrugged her shoulders and turned away. She's a player. A 92 year old player.

Suckas

We took her back Thursday night. Couldn't take it any longer. It's one thing to hate the other cats, but after a week and a half, you have to stop biting the hand that feeds you. Or you can get the fuck out.

I have returners remorse, but it's already dissipating. The house is calmer, the energy is rebalanced.

Kenny gave me a big speech before we went back to the shelter with her: No looking around! Don't touch anything else! Don't go into the back room! We're dropping her off, turning around and going to Best Buy.

So we brought home a new little black kitten.

He fell in love with her.

We of course went to the back room to see how Wicked was going to be in her cage. She was fine, by the way. We gave her the cat bed she'd grown accustomed to, but she opted for a last fuck you our way and laid down in the litter pan instead. Scooched to the back of the cage when we tried to pet her. No love lost there.

While there, this little black cat across the aisle SCREAMED at us for attention. The loudest meow out of such a little kitten.

Of course we had to pick her up, and then she must have watched the Orientation Video that all new drop-offs must be required to see, coaching them in the steps to get adopted:

1/ Scream for Attention.
2/ Once you have their attention, cutely paw through the cage.
3/ After pick-up, snuggle up in their arms, burying your little cat head.
4/ Begin purring immediately.
5/ If they even think about putting you back, cutely and innocently "mew" while making sad eyes.
6/ Enjoy your new home!

7000 Pulses Per Minute

Seems the latest gimmick they're selling to women is vibrating mascara. Are we really that easily influenced and titillated by anything that vibrates? Perhaps so, because I shelled out $14.99 to test out the new Maybelle Pulse Perfection mascara. I could not resist the allure of a vibrating wand.

Now, I do have plenty of mascara, with my favorite to-date being Avon Wash-Off Waterproof mascara. But I wanted to see the magic that the vibrating wand promised, so I figured nothing less than a mascara test-off would do. So here you have it, in pictures, to come to your own conclusion of weather or not the vibrating wand delivers better than it's competitors. In this case, I went toe-to-toe with an over-the-counter brand from Clinique High Impact mascara. Around the same price and the same promise of flirty, non-clumpy lashes.

Here we are, unfettered by cosmetics, in unabashed and undefined glory. Sheesh, my eyebrows could use a shaping, too, by the way.

I gave each eye the same prep work, with a simple curl with the eyelash curler, under-eye concealer (wowza, I've got some dark circles!) and basic business make-up.

Here is the result from one eye with the Clinque brand:

Not too bad, the eyelashes are visible and not too clumpy.

Now here's the left eye, after the application of mascara with the vibrating wand:

I do have to say I see a difference. The difference is even more apparent below (Clinique on my right side - your left looking at this - and Magical Vibrating Wand on the other, underneath the seductive bang-sweep):

Worth the $14.99 and the excitement of holding a vibrating wand in your hand in public? I'm going to have to say that yes, the vibrator is worth it. See for yourself ladies. While you're at it, get yourself a vibrating razor and there'll be no reason whatsoever to leave the bathroom - except, of course, to bat your lashes and flirt a little.

It's A Sweet Thing

My friend from Toastmasters, Kim, had spur-of-the-moment tickets to see Keith Urban on Friday night and lucky me, she asked if I were free! As luck would have it, I had zero plans for this weekend. Like a coupla dicks, we didn't take a camera, we thought they weren't allowed. But then everyone was taking pictures, and Keith came to within 5 rows of where we were sitting and I had to use my crappy cellphone to at least try to capture the Magic of Keith.

Concert was right up my alley, with Sugarland opening. They both put on a great show, and Keith is cool because he walked all the way across the floor to perform on a stage set up in the back so the people with horrible seats could see him. Then, like I said, he stopped mid-way, too, and came up to our area and sang - it was cool to see him that close-up. He's foxy.

There was only one complaint that I had about him, and it's more of a peeve than a complaint. At one point he was thanking everyone for coming out, acknowledging the toughest economic times we've faced in years, and how he was appreciative for everyone "doing what they could" to get to the show. Here's a thought: Don't charge people $78 a ticket during the toughest economic times we've seen. Garth Brooks charged $18 a ticket when I saw him back in the '90s - his position was that he wasn't going to "gouge" his fans. So Keith, in the future, either don't acknowledge the difficult economic times while stickin' it to the fans with your ticket prices, or wait til the economy picks up before touring. I'm not against a brutha making money, but don't act like you're all concerned about the economy and our sacrifices to get to see you. If you were, you'd take a page out of Garth's book and make the concerts more affordable to all and take home less of a paycheck. That's all.

On the plus side, Keith really did interact with the audience a lot, and didn't rush off stage at the end - he swept the stage, shaking hands with fans well after the lights were up in the house.

Find One That Sticks

Well, 5 days into New Cats In The House and we still haven't settled on names. Toby has become Indy, then Jonesie, then Boy Cat (which really doesn't work because we have 2 other boy cats), back to Toby and Lanky.

The Horrible Orange Cat has been tested out with Buffy (her 'given' name is Muffy, but we hate that), Pippi (recommendation based on orange hair and Pippi Longstocking being the coolest girl ever because she had a horse and a monkey), The Orange Cat, Cuntie Kitty and who knows what else. Nothing is sticking.

Inexcusable, really. We need to settle on some names and then use them, otherwise the cats will end up in therapy and in the end blame their parents for all their troubles. And frankly, I don't need another helping of Catholic Guilt, especially since I'm not getting the benefit of heaven and all the jazzy promises that come with practicing Catholicism. Maybe we'll name one Jesus, only we'll pronounce it like the Mexicans do: Hey-Zeus. Actually, that's kinda cute.

Pass The Cookie

"Ladies, there is only one. ring. left." she obviously states before pivoting on her heel and leaving the room.

Good Lord, I'm hooked on More To Love!

Bitchy Girl and Biggest Girl got the hook. Oh, the drama! One girl lamented, "He's going to make a decision that will affect the Rest! Of! My! Life!!!!" Really.

Oh, Ladies, Ladies, Ladies! Get some confidence! You're in your 20's - EARLY 20's! There will be More To Life after this show. If not, consider becoming British Nannies. I'll make the transition to watch you there.

In All Her Glory.

Are words even necessary?



Today we're calling her Horrible Orange Girl Cat. On an up note, she didn't try to bite today when I picked her up. Baby steps.

Here We Go.

Meet Toby. Despite everyone's opinion (including my own, depending upon the day) that we should wait before getting more cats, Sunday Kenny and I decided to go to the pet shelter and check out a couple of kittens that were at work for a photo shoot last week. We had planned on a little black cat (Widda Redux) and his sister, a little tabby.

But once we got there and looked around, we were charmed by this older cat who kept reaching out of the cage to get our attention. He's only 9 months, but he looked HUGE in the cage, compared to the babies. He is a dollbaby and has fit right in with the house and is making friends with the others. The only downside is that he needs to be declawed. He's pretty gentle and hasn't flayed us open yet, but he has the potential to do so. Toby doesn't know what's in store for him this week.

It was really cute and I knew there was a playful baby in the house when I went into the bathroom and saw toilet paper strewn all over the room! He's frankly adorable and playful and purry and sweet.

Now, as Paul Harvey used to say: The Rest Of The Story.

We also bought another full-grown cat. She's the true underdog. She was on clearance, anything to get rid of her, she's been at the shelter since April 1st and sometimes has a little bit of a bad attitude. Of course Kenny couldn't just let her sit there. She's quite beautiful, orange with yellow eyes, fat and sassy. She's hanging out by herself in the spare bedroom, not settling in the way Toby has, but we're giving her some space. She's been behind bars for 5 months, we're cutting her some slack. I went to get a photo of her, but of course my camera's acting up - something about dirt on the memory card. I tried to clean it, but wasn't successful. So photos to come later.

Save your Crazy Cat Lady speeches. We like to have a full house and know we made a difference in something living's life.

With A Rebel Yell

Why the hell am I so addicted to this stupid chubby-chix dating show More To Love?? Good Lord, it's an emotionally pathetic bunch who need a lesson in support bras. Now, I'm not one to throw chocolate chips at the girl who likes a cookie - oh, no, far be it! But seriously. Get a little bit of pride, Ladies. Or don't, because apparently I enjoy you just the way you are.

*******************************

Last Friday night my friend Joanne and I enjoyed a night on the Downtown. We had tix to see Mary Poppins. It's official: I have some sort of weird crush on British nannies. Supernanny Jo isn't alone in my affections.

The show was fantastic. We had 4th row, off to the side, but definitely not a hindrance at all. After, we walked down to East 4th Street where we had drinks at Cadillac Ranch until 1:00 a.m., when we decided we were hungry and went in search of food. Obviously not schooled in the workings of Downtown, we didn't realize that kitchen's close at 1:00 a.m. We were directed down to a little hole in the wall where we tentatively but hungrily ate club sandwiches before walking back to our hotel. We were turning our night out into a whole event, using up my last free night at the Marriott before it expired. All-in-all, it was a very fun evening out. And much needed, with all the cat problems I've faced lately.

While I realize you want More, More, More! of these fantastic insights, I'm off to paint my toenails and try and find something to exfoliate my elbows. Yes, I lead an exciting life. Eat your heart out.

She Needed More Gangsta

Widda (Urban Dictionary Definition)
1.a true gangster.
2.A lover of rap music.
3.A rebel without a cause.
4.A loose cannon
"Man that kid's going widda style!!!"
"Dont mess with me fool or i'll go widda on your ass!"

Sadly, once again we say goodbye to another one of our family. There will never be another one like our Widda.

Cat Nursing

I feel like I'm running a cat hospice. My time at home is spent tending to Widda's comfort. I'm frankly surprised she's hung on this long, I didn't give odds past Tuesday, but here we have it at Thursday and she's still holding on.

I carry her around on a pillow so she is completely comfortable, with no pressure points on her little cat body. She purrs like crazy when we tuck her in between us at night. She doesn't seem to be in pain, more or less just disgruntled.

She comes out for feeding time, licks some food a bit and then lays down. She can walk and jump on/off the bed, don't get the impression that she's an invalid because I carried her on a pillow. That was just an added touch of nursing care.

I'm worried what Friday will bring. I'm not going to be home Friday night, I have tickets to see Mary Poppins downtown with my friend Joanne, and we are spending the night there at The Marriott. We're using up my last free room offer. I also have some gift certificates to Divine Wine so we'll make a night of it. All the while the Widda's at home. At least Kenny will be here with her.

Saturday we have two summer party invitations. I just don't see how Widda dying is going to fit into my weekend so she better just decide to fight and hang on. Damn, it's been a tough cat week.

Goodnight, Our Cat Friend

We fought a tough battle against that sonofabitch Cancer, but in the end we couldn't pull him through. Sorry, Bubba, we all tried so hard for you. Ten is not nearly enough cat years for as good of a cat as you.

Caesar was definitely a one-man cat: Kenny's. While he tolerated me and would allow some occasional pets and cuddles, he didn't have much use for me overall. But his Cat Daddy, well, that's another story. Caesar could be anywhere in the house, but if Kenny called him, he'd come running and climb up on his chest and purr. When he laid on the back of the couch, he always had to have one paw hanging over, touching Kenny on either the shoulder or resting his paw against Kenny's face.

Is it any wonder Kenny wasn't ready to just throw in the towel when Caesar was diagnosed with lymphoma back in May? "Treat him," was the directive. And it was a gallant effort, with weekly trips to the cat oncologist, special foods to tempt him to eat, and extra TLC - whatever the cat wanted, the cat got.

Sadly, Caesar died on Sunday, August 2nd, 2009. We are heartbroken.

In Th3ee

3. "It's time to get up!" I said this morning at 9 a.m. "What time is it?" he asked? "Ten." Later, discovering it's only 9:30...."You said it was 10!" "I lied." See how nice it is to get motivated early.

2. One sniff answered my own question, "Do you think it's still good?" after discovering I left the Half & Half out on the counter overnight.

1. You know it's not going to be a good day when the best you can do is just give up and lay in the litter box amongst the clumps of shit. Yes, that's where Caesar decided to hang his hat today, until we scooped him out.

More Of The Same.

It's been a week. I was semi "single" most of the week, Kenny was busy getting a new singing gig up and running for a Wednesday night Little Italy performance. Then he went to Southern Ohio Thursday & Friday. He tried to persuade me to go, but alas, I could not due to my work schedule, so I was a loner. I worked a lot, came home and immediately put on my pajamas and fell asleep. This was my schedule Tuesday-Thursday. I decided that starting August 1st, I needed to Get A Life. We got up early Saturday morning to take my little black cat to the vet, came home from that and promptly took a three hour nap. Maybe I'll get a life tomorrow.

So regarding the vet, my little black cat Widda is in dire straits. She, too, has some form of tumors/cancer in her stomach. They filled her under the skin with some electrolytes, and gave her a steroid to stimulate her appetite. We weren't ready to put her to sleep today. That's not how I want to start August. Although I do believe it's just postponing the very soon inevitable. Well, that's a stressor for another day. But maybe that's why I'm so sluggish, I've just got a lot of pet problems weighing me down. I'll be down to one cat of my own after this - just me & Twinkle against the world. And Kenny's cats, of course, but my own herd is getting thinned quickly. Drat.

We went to Sam's Club today to purchase some solar lights for the yard. A hundred and eighty dollars later, I forgot to even look at the lights, but have quite an assortment of fresh fruit for the week, including black globe seedless grapes, green grapes, two kinds of cherries, raspberries, strawberries and blueberries. We should be shitting like a goose by Sunday night.

Rounded out the day by seeing a couple of movies, The Hurt Locker and The Orphan. Both were good, but I have to say The Hurt Locker was so tangible, it made my insides ache for what's going on with our soldiers in Iraq. We need to get the fuck outta there. Really powerful movie. The Orphan, well, there were a lot of brotha's in the movie, and they laugh through scary movies which made it much more comically tolerable. I wasn't scared, and it was actually kinda good, too. No nightmares for me! Speaking of which, my three hour nap from this afternoon has plumb worn off so I'm heading back to bed with my Widda. Getting in all the snuggling while we can. Literally living on borrowed time with her.