Karma’s a bitch.
Well, karma or L. Ron.
So, I’ve been talking a lot of shit lately about TomKat – who hasn’t, though? And I’ve been rather unkind about Katie Holmes’s cold sores. But really, they’re super gross, and if I was Christian Bale I would’ve been a wee bit concerned about catching the herpes. But anyway.
So now I’ve either got a zit developing on the cupid’s bow of my upper lip, or it’s a fucking cold sore and L. Ron is having a good laugh at my expense. And I’m starting to think it’s a cold sore. It’s just cropped up yesterday, though, so I’m not too sure yet. And I’m a big fucking hypochondriac. It’s probably just a zit. But either way, I think some tea tree oil will tell that fucker who’s the boss of my face: ME.
I’ve never had cold sores, but apparently like 80% of the population has the virus. It’s rather like warts – it never really goes away, just goes dormant. Oh goody.
I guess the real lesson from all this is, watch what you say about those Scientology motherfuckers. They must have some sort of alien surveillance technology, and they’ll hear you talking shit, and give you the herpes.
Shit. I just realized that table is one column too wide for all my links to sit prettily up here, too. Well, fuck it. My fingers hurt, and I’m not retyping that shit.
I’ve been tagged! But it warrants thinking about, so I’ll be posting my thoughts about that later. In the meantime, zoo pictures! It was SOOOOOOOO totally worth it. (And the shoes held up pretty awesomely, and I did go back for another pair.) Hunter even found a bat plushy for me! Which I haven’t photographed yet, so you won’t be seeing it now. (I just finished editing what is, for me, the motherload (motherlode?) of pictures, and am not doing any more for this evening!) Also, there were lots of cute babies – please note especially the freakishly cute meerkat babies and the patas monkey baby. I practically had to be dragged away from the meerkat toddler antics. SO! CUTE! (I also said “Aw! They’re so cute!” at just about everything. And when I restrained myself, Greg would look pointedly at me and say, “So, what are they?” And I’d give in to the cuteness and say, “Aw! They’re sooooo cute!” In case you hadn’t figured it out, “Aw! They’re so cute!” (or some variation thereof) is about the only speech I’m capable of at the zoo.) The shampoo ginger was also pretty cool – apparently the cones at the top produced a soapy gel that people in Hawaii and some parts of Asia use as shampoo, and it’s also used in commercial shampoos as an additive. Pretty fucking neat, I think. Anyway. Zoo pictures! Alphabetical animals and plants! (More or less.)
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Oh, and during Secret Pal 2, Iris sent me an e-card of an otter, because I like them so much. And one of the reasons I think they’re hilarious is EVERY single time we go to the zoo, when we get to the otters – okay, let me back up a bit. The otters have an outside part, with a little stream and some rocks, and an “inside” part, with a little pool. And EVERY single time we go to the zoo, when we get to the otters, at least one of them pees on the rocks in the outside part, right in front of us, as soon as we walk up to them. And I’d mentioned this to the people who went with us (Mary, Hunter, and Jon). So, as soon as we get to the otters, and I’m up at the railing to look at the cute little buggers – one of them shits right on the rocks in front of me. Hah! Never fails. And then, as usual, they continued their cute otter frolicking.
Today, the zoo!!
I am covered in NARSTY spray-on sunblock. I mean, if it keeps the sun out, great. But it smells horrid, and even though it’s dry I can still feel it, like a sticky film. Whatever. It’s better than melanoma.
Skeeter has diarrhea for the third day in a row, but it looks like it might be going away. If it sticks around til tomorrow, he’s going to the vet with a quickness. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, but I have a real “thing” about poop being tracked through the house. And this time around, poor Skeeter seems as terrified of his diarrhea as I am – he starts pooping, and he tries to walk away from it. It’s not scooting at all – I think he just doesn’t want to get any on his feet, and I don’t blame him. The downside is, sometimes he runs out of room in the litterbox to walk away from his shit, and some of it ends up outside the box. Blecch. Poor guy. But it looks like today’s might be the last dregs getting out of his system. Which is good for him, because our vet starts with a fecal test when a cat’s got diarrhea, and Skeeter is not a fan of that at all.
Anyway, now that I’ve totally disgusted you, ZOO!
Happy Kitty Picture Day!
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So, yeah, that picture of Skeeter. Take a minute to scroll on down and check out the kitten picture of him next to my foot. And then scroll back up to the above picture of him, and realize that you can just barely make out some of my toes peeking out from under him. I tried to get him to pose next to my feet for scale, again, so you could see how FUCKING HUGE he’s gotten, but #1-I couldn’t get a picture of him, taken from my height, that would include ALL of him (because he’s a fucking huge monster cat!) and #2-I couldn’t get a picture of him AND my feet, because he was rubbing against them and in doing so COVERING THEM UP with his sheer largeness. Not that he’s overweight or anything. He’s just a big, strapping cat-lad. Yowza, is he big. He’s somewhere between ten and twelve pounds, I’d say, and I’d go weigh him, but I’m feeling lazy. So that’s a project for another day.
Chalupa has also put on some weight, but in her case it’s only, like, two or three pounds worth of “filling out quite nicely” since we got her. So, we can tell the difference, but I doubt anyone else would notice.
We’re going to the ZOO! tomorrow! I’m so very, very excited! And to prepare, we went to Target tonight, to pick up some sunscreen and good walking shoes for me, among other things. Anyway, these shoes are the fucking bomb! They’re Xhilaration’s Allegria shoes, and they are so unbelievably comfortable. If they hold up well to a whole day of walking around the zoo, I’m going to have to go back and get some more. They’re also on sale! Score.
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And I just finished updating the pets’ gallery. So Chalupa is FINALLY in it. And seeing as how I’m in the Knitting Kitty webring, I really ought to post pictures of my kitties more often. Especially since it appears that I only have seven pictures of Chalupa to date. That’s sad, because she’s really cute, and very friendly these days. So I’m thinking I’ll take a page out of Dooce’s book, and make Friday “Kitty Picture Day”. Um, since Friday is the day of the week I’m most likely to not only intend to post a picture or two, but actually to do it. Hee. And I’ll start later today.
But first, for reference and comparison:
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I’m also updating my galleries and nosey-bits and whatnot, so you should check those out. I finally put up (most of) my FOs for this year so far, and there are TWENTY of them already, so I feel extra productive and crafty and shit.
So last night, Greg and I went to see my brother-in-law’s band (well, not *his* band, you know, but the band he’s in), C.urse Y.our N.ame, aka Cyn, aka Cynder from Battle for Ozzfest. Sweet jesus, did they put on a good show. Even though there were like, seven of us there. The two opening bands BLEW GOATS. And all these motherfuckers who were rocking out to bands that BLEW GOATS left before Cyn played because they have NO TASTE. Cyn was fucking awesome, and they were all really nice guys. And I really appreciate a kickass metal band full of nice guys. Hee. Anyway, I also got to hang out with my two sisters, so that was fun. I caught Sarah headbanging a couple times, which I’ve never known her to do before (it was also her first time seeing Cyn), so that was cute. Some absolutely repulsive guy touched my arm at one point, so I gave him my best fuck-off smile. (He was the singer for one of the opening bands, and he was atrocious, of course, because they BLEW GOATS, but he also sang with his shirt off, and his pants were so low you could see his pubes in front, and his asscrack in back. Plus he gyrated in this really sleazy way, but you could tell he thought he was being hot. He was sooooo not. NARSTY.) And I stayed up til about 1:30 in the morning, which is a huge deal for cranky-old-lady me.
Speaking of which, I’ve decided to change the name of this blog, since I really don’t want children, like, EVER, and so that kinda discounts me from the “future grandmother” running. I like the sound of “spinster,” but do spinsters have life partners?
Friday evening, we drove up to Virginia for Michel’s and Kathleen’s birthday celebration. We stayed at Michel’s parents’ river house, and it was lots of fun. Greg got rather sunburnt from canoeing around shirtless. It was very relaxing, and I even found some time to work on my knitting (the bolero, and I also started a cardigan in the Cottrica), and to read a bit (finished Sourcery and started Carpe Jugulum).
Saturday afternoon, we drove back for Mary’s and Hunter’s birthday celebration. On the way, we stopped at a Wafflehouse for food – I ate way too much, and it was very greasy. But tasty! (But very greasy and heavy and stomach-upsetting, and so I’m fasting today, to give my digestive system a break, and a chance to clean itself out. It’s not as easy as it used to be, back when I fasted semi-regularly as part of my yoga practice; but it’s not as difficult, yet, as I was expecting it to be. Although I am starting to get a headache, but that’s to be expected.) Anyway, we got home, wrapped some gifts, and headed out to Mary’s and Hunter’s houses, where we played Apples to Apples (lots of fun) and Betrayal at the House on the Hill (lots of fun as well, and we beat the “traitor” and won!).
Today is going to be pretty restful, and then at eight there’s a wrestling payperview we’re going to watch. Oh, and the cool part about the hybrid – we drove 451 miles on one (10-gallon) tank of gas. LOVE. And also? People in Virginia are SHITTY drivers. I can’t tell you how many cars we saw that were driving smack in the middle of two lanes on the highway – not passing a car, not getting over, just straddling the lanes and staying there. It seems to be par for the course up there. And all the offending drivers had Virginia tags, ergo, people in Virginia are shitty drivers.
