oui, oui mon cheri

I love dictionary.com. It has settled a few bets and frequently turned me into a smug motherfucker ("See? I told you it meant 'ass-kissing weasel.'") I also love it because it has a translator. Which was very helpful today when I wanted to figure out how to say "with a chicken potpie." In French.

Those of you who just asked "why?" are clearly on the wrong site and know nothing, NOTHING about me and need to wander off the CNN or something.

Incidentally, I also learned the following phrases:

le pingouin est dans le pudding
The penguin is in the pudding.


Pingouin ! Sors de mon pudding !
Penguin! Get out of my pudding!

And in a Magritte moment - This is not French.
Ce n'est pas français

Keep those handy on that next trip to Paris. I'm sure they'll be very useful.

I didn't really regrout the tubs

Day one: Fuck you. Yes, you. And your little friend and your boss, your husband, your Aunt Sophie, your pharmacist, your mechanic and your cats. Fuck off. But before you do, bring me a milkshake. Thank you. Now fuck off.

Day two: Tired. So tired. So very, very tired. Why don't they allow naps at work? Please stop talking to me, for I am so ver..zzzzzzzzzzzzzz......

Day three: *sob*

Day four: Let's clean the bathrooms! And do the laundry! And sweep! And organize the books by author/subject/color!! Wheeeeeeee!! It's only 1AM, I have plenty of time to regrout the tubs before work tomorrow!! Whoooo!!

Day five: Sex. NOW.

Day six: Goddammit. I hate being a woman sometimes.

This is what my husband has patiently dealt with this week. If any man ever deserved beer and chocolate, it would be Jef.


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We've been watching a ridiculous amount of HGTV lately. We have PLANS. That involve the FUTURE. That we BOTH AGREE ON. It's a brave new world, my friends.

I hate comparing Jef to the ex because, well, y'know...they're two different people. But sometimes it's hard to sit here, with this person to whom I can say the most (in my opinion) off the wall, weird things and find out that he's thinking the same thing or thinks I've just said the most brilliant thing ever, and not remember a time when I was afraid to give ideas or opinions about anything. A time when I figured anything out of my face would be wrong, wrong, wrong, so why bother? Life with Jef has been such a change from that, that it's still sometimes hard not to compare.

I look forward to it being old hat for me to express an opinion, any opinion and it being heard and valued and not immediately dismissed. But for right now, I'll admit, I'm kind of wallowing in the novelty.

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

Harold, the cat of the sixteen stitches, has his stitches out and his attractive blue collar off and is out of our room. Of course, Harold has the memory of a goldfish and is completely freaked out by the presence of other cats. So he's sitting at the end of the hall, totally losing his shit. All of the other cats are looking at him and then looking at us, all "what the fuck is up his ass?" We don't know, fuzzy buddies, we don't know.

I really, really wish I had the stuff to record and embed and audio file of Harold in the middle of a big stripey shit fit, because it is the funniest thing in the world. Ok, try this. Yes, even if you're at work - trust me, it's so stupid sounding, it might score you a day off. You ready? Make a cat hissing noise, but when you inhale to continue the hiss, make a pig snort noise.

Got it? hhhhhsssssssssssss, *snort*, hhhhhsssssssssss, *snort*. Right now, at the end of my hall, there's 14 pounds of angry, stripey, bald assed cat making that very noise. I love my life, man.

We have frozen margaritas in the kitchen and my glass is empty. Y'all behave.

open letters in place of real content

Dear Coke Zero*,


You are not as good as Diet Coke. I'm sorry. I'll stick with you for a little bit to see if I can get used to you, but I remain skeptical. I see a return to Diet Coke very soon. It's one damn calorie.

Laura


Dear stepson,

Vegetables will not kill you. In fact, they will do quite the opposite - they'll help you live a better, longer life. Trust me on this. Please, just try the spinach.

Your stepmother, who really only wants the best for you, so humor her.

Dear Jef,

The floor next to my side of the bed will always and forever be covered in books, notebooks, discarded hair ties and socks. If you can find a way to deal with that and still love me, I will find a way to put up with your (incredibly annoying) habit of leaving the water running THE ENTIRE GODDAMN TIME you do dishes.

Love you,
Laura

Dear Head,

What will it take to get you to stop hurting? I've tried caffeine, no caffeine, water, ibuprofen and snacks. Nothing has helped. Are you trying to tell me something? Is it the weather? Do you want a human sacrifice? There are several extremely noisy small children in our complex, if that's the case. I just need to know what you want to stop the constant pain and I'll do it. Please, nobody has a headache for four days straight. Help me out here.

No, it's not a tumor,
Laura

Dear cats,

Jobs, motherfuckers. Two of you owe us $1300 in vet fees and the rest of you owe us for years of kibble, litter, nip and mousey toys. Do not bore me with that "I don't have any opposable thuuu-uuumbs" bullshit either. There are people in the world with much lower IQs than any of you and they have jobs. Figure it out.

Laura

*I originally typed "Cock Zero", which I know we can all definitely agree is not as good as Diet Cock or, especially, Real Cock. Just be wary of the New Cock, you don't know where it's been.

I'll be better tomorrow

BFF uploaded a bunch of junior high and high school pictures to Facebook and has tracked some people down and I've spent a chunk of my day catching up on classmates and all I have to say is BLEH.

Lawyers and activists and nurses and doctors and musicians and just...bleh.

Along with all the pictures is that wonderful reminder, "Wow! Our 20th year reunion is coming up! Oh my God!"

In that spirit, I've made a list of things to do by summer of 2009. Behold, my neuroses in numbered format:

1)Lose 20 pounds

2)Learn to dress myself like a real grown-up lady and not a)bag lady or b)teenager playing dress up in mommy's work clothes, which are my two favorite looks.

3)Learn something about SOMETHING interesting to talk about. Nobody cares about my cats or my knitting projects or my beads. No really, they don't.

4)Earn that Master's degree. There has to be a super-accelerated Associate's to Master's program in 6 months or less SOMEWHERE.

5)Figure out what the hell I'd ever get a degree in. Maybe that should be #4? Fuck it.

5)Learn some magic tricks. If I can't master that adult conversation thing, I can always just disappear in a puff of smoke. If you need to find me once the smoke clears, I'll be by the cheese.

****

As you can see, I'm not having the best day. I'm going home now, where I think I'll spend the night nestled between my husbands shoulder and a glass of Newcastle. Hmph.

cancel November

November? Really? Wow.

Yes, I voted. And so should you.

So, Ok, um.

Wedding
Gorgeous, wonderful and yes, I can easily say it was the happiest day of my life. It was also one of the most stressful; things I planned down to a T didn't happen, other things I didn't even think about worked out perfectly and I got into a fight with my best friend. Hokey and schmoopy as it sounds, by the time I hit the top of the aisle, it really didn't matter anymore. It was wonderful.

Plus, Jef looked really hot in his kilt. There will be pictures eventually.

Moving

Moving sucks and we will never, ever be done putting stuff away and I'd like a drink, kthxbai.

Marriage

Is good. Very good. So comfortable and good and fun that a month later, we still look at each other and say, "dude...we're like...MARRIED." It's good.

Everything else

We have these cats, right? Well, a while ago, one of the cats was diagnosed with a fungal infection in his sinuses (stryptococcalwhozawhatsit.) He was a stray and apparently this is common in stray/outdoor cats because cats, while being very sweet and useful for keeping your lap warm and keeping your tables free of clutter (ahem) are kind of stupid and do things like snort pigeon poop, thus ending up with Jimmy Durante noses and half dead. So yes, there was that.

Well then, that very same cat, who was getting better due to daily feedings** and pilling got into something, we still do not know what or how because this cat spent all of his time in stepson's room, curled in a ball, but whatever, he got into a poison and nearly died AGAIN and got put on an IV for two days and cost us another eleventy-squillion dollars and now? NOW HE'S HAVING SEIZURES.

The seizures are believed to be related to the fungal thingie and should go away when we continue the anti-fungals, which we stopped because of the other problem, and all I have to say is that this is a very sweet, very pretty cat who sounds like a little parakeet when he talks because he just kind of trills at you but that little fucker better learn to wait tables soon.

Of course, intertwined in all that crap, another cat (Harold)got a lump on his back that apparently hurt like a motherfucker. One day the lump was gone, but Harold's back was kind of....crusty (ew.) We figured it was a boil or something and it popped and that's nasty, but OK. However, his back was still hurting him and he was starting to, frankly, STINK. So we hosed down his back and took a closer look and there was a giant HOLE in our cat. After a week of cleaning it, it looked like maybe it was getting better, but there was another hole. In the cat. On his back.

Jef took Harold to the vet, where they shaved off a 6"x 6" patch of fur and discovered a third hole in his back and a whole lot of necrotic tissue. Turns out the original abscess had nowhere to drain, so the fluid was just kind of pocketing and basically our cat's ass was rotting off.

Now Harold has 16 stitches across his back (seriously, it looks like he had ass re-attachment surgery) and one of those goofy collars on and is currently living in our room. He doesn't seem to be in any pain and is the same mildly grumpy cat he always was. He's a little more affectionate lately, but I think that's because he's lonely.

So yes, one nose full of pigeon poop, one mystery poisoning, several seizures and sixteen stitches later, we have re-named those cats Twitch and Stitch. Yes, we are fully aware that we are going to hell. We do not care, because we hear there's free cable and after all these vet bills we'll take some free shit, thanks.



*I kid, I kid, but seriously...not a lot of sunlight in this kid's life. Just sayin'.

**It is entirely possible that a big, bald, tattooed man syringe-fed a kitten for months on end so it could get healthy again. But you didn't hear it from me.