Photo of the Day: Fluffers

In case we haven't fawned over my boy enough lately.

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Lost Gift Cards, Elections Make People Assholes, and Other Fun Tales

I haven't blogged in far too long. So instead of regaling you with every damn thing that's happened, I present you with a series of tales from the last month.

Ahem.



Lost Gift Cards

An as always lovely family member gifted me with 100 smackers from spafinder (dot) com for my birthday back in September and, because I'm much too busy to do lovely things for myself like getting MASSages, they've been sitting on my desk for the last million days.

I had a free day today, so I finally got my ass in gear and made an appointment last week at a spa. I gave them my credit card to hold my appointment and then didn't think anything of it until this morning when I went to grab my gift cards.

Gone. Like, gone. Like, I tore apart my apartment and they were nowhere to be found. Fucking fuckity fuck fuck. The spa was very understanding that I'd be late and I pretty much sobbed all the way to my appointment, telling myself that I didn't want to do it and I couldn't afford it, but I didn't exactly have a choice. I really didn't have a choice. If I canceled, they'd still charge my card, so my choices were to get a massage that I couldn't afford or to pay for a massage I didn't get. Luckily, I'm not dumb so I got the massage.

And it was lovely. Seriously, insanely wonderful. It's ironic, but there's nothing like a massage to ease all your tensions created by getting a massage you can't afford.

I still can't find those damn gift cards. I've now cleaned my whole house and there are only there potential reasons they went missing:

1. I threw them away. Which I find highly unlikely. I just don't see myself doing that.
2. They were abducted by aliens with a lot of tension in their backs. Totally possible.
3. Maintenance at my apartment stole them. Unlikely, but unless they were stolen by aliens, it's the most rational answer I can think of.

It's just money, I know, but I feel like I'm out 200 bucks. $100 that I couldn't afford today and $100 that is probably being spent in a day spa on Venus. Damn Venutians. 

The Saga of the Pet Bed

A month or so ago, I spotted this fluffy, cushy, gray pet bed on sale at the grocery store. Hobbes doesn't have any pet beds, mostly because he prefers to sleep on the bed with me, but with Eminem over a lot, the bed is getting quite full. And I do have this storage basket at the end of my bed, which is perfect for a pet bed and Hobbes could sleep there and feel like he's still on the bed. Plus the gray looks so pretty against my bedspread. 

Ahhhh if life every worked out so perfectly. 

I put Hobbes on it and he jumped off it like it was made of lava. How dare I endanger my cat so! I put catnip on it. No dice. I covered it in treats, which he nimbly grabbed one by one without putting more than one paw on the bed at all times. 

Them Eminem came over and gently patted the bed and told Hobbes to get on it. And the damn cat did. Because that's how much he loves my boyfriend. Luckily for me, it didn't last long and Hobbes wouldn't lie down. 

I tried it with Hobbes again last week, by just patting the bed and telling him to get on it. It worked for a few minutes and he even lay down for a bit, but jumped down the minute I left. He's refused to get on it since. 

I give up. I totally give up. 

Elections Make People Assholes

I'm going to assume you all know that I'm an Obama girl. If you read my Sprocket Ink posts at all, you know I'm a fan of the O man and, thus, was totally celebrating his win last week. As many others were! And many others were not. I totally get that. Had Romney won, I'd have been super pouty and devastated. Such is human nature. 

So of course, Facebook was rife with both sides of that election night coin, as was to be expected. I was all, "Victory!" and "GoooooBAMA!" And others were all like, "It's the end of the world and we're all gonna die!" Or something like that. I'm paraphrasing. 

And I have to say that I love that! That is the fun and power of an election. Emotions run high and people get all passionate. That's politics, baby and I lurve it. 

I did unfriend someone on facebook that night and, I have to say, I don't regret it. It's not what you'd expect either and I'm only sharing this story because of what I learned about myself because of it. 

My friend posted on facebook something to the effect of how shameful it is how we're all behaving, gloating and complaining and it's just an election and how can we possibly put so much trust in power in the hands of one man and we're acting like idiots (this is from memory, mind you). And she told us all to shut up.

And I was mildly offended. But I thought, This girl is my friend and I've known her for years and I'm going to share my perspective and she'll be gracious about it. 

So I wrote (again, from memory) something like, This is how it goes for elections. For me, this is a win and so I'm celebrating. I'm sorry some might see that as gloating, but that's how it goes. 

I honestly think I wrote more than that, but I can't remember. And she replied (and this I remember verbatim): With all due respect, Andrea, that speaks volumes. 

And then my brain exploded. 

I was just so offended, so furious. I didn't care what her politics were or who she voted for or if she thought I was crazy for my politics. But her pride, her condescension, her self-righteousness struck me as offensive. How nice to be so much better than the rest of us! To not behave like idiots over something so trivial as an election. Pathetic little peons. 

That's what I felt she was saying, dripping with condescension  I stared at the "friend" button on her facebook page for some time. I knew it was childish to unfriend someone, something I've never done because of something so seemingly trivial, but was moved to do so instinctually. After too long, I finally did press it and then click that I was sure that I wanted to remove that person as a friend. 

It was a pretty powerful move for something that took such little time, but I knew almost instantly that it's what I wanted. I can't be friends with someone who thinks she (or he) is so much better than I or so much better than everyone else, who can't forgive human nature, who has to tell her friends to shut up when she doesn't approve of them. 

Only inclusive people get to be in my life, people who can accept that we all have differences, even if we fight tooth and nail over them, because that's what is great about friendships, and life, and people, and this country. The dialog, the fight, the celebrating and the sorrow, it's all part of this life and it's how we make it better. 

No, I will not shut up, thanks. Not today. 

A Good Man is Hard to Find

I really wanted to end this with a happy story. Eminem and I went though a little rough patch recently, had a little hiccup, and I honestly didn't know how to deal with it at first, because I've never been to that point in a relationship. Usually, I just get dumped. 

And at the end of the day, with all my shitty past relationships, I don't know that I would appreciate him as much as I do without having been treated so poorly in the past or had my heart broken too many times. Being wounded so often certainly made me scared to stick with it, of course, but he's worth it. The fear of losing him makes me want to work at being good to him just as he's trying to be good to me. 

I told him, half crying, half laughing, that I wouldn't let him go easily. I've dated all the other men in the world. All of them. And he's the only good one. 

I just knew in my gutty gut that he's the best guy I've ever known and so I'd figure it out, we'd figure it out. And we did. We're great. Stronger than we were before, I think, which feels fucking phenomenal and I can't express how fucking happy he makes me. We're both learning how to be with each other and I appreciate every minute. 

He's one in a million, that guy. 

The Men in My Life

Have I mentioned I'm the best daughter ever? I am.

A month ago (ish) was my pop's 65th birthday. To give you a better understanding of my dad, he told me, "I'm a officially old." Yup. That's my dad.

Anyway, that's a big birthday and so I wanted to do something special for him but I live all the way up in Portland and he's in Southern California and I'm now, how you say, rich. He also hates presents. My mother fills their house with enough crap to fill the Louvre so the man doesn't want or need any "stuff."

So I thought and I thought and with the help of a few key people, decided I'd send him a pie. Because he likes pie and it would be an unusual gift and I love the unusual. Still, finding a place that both made pie and would deliver was a challenge and I didn't want to ship one myself because that pie would be decimated, I guarantee it, and I didn't want my dad to get a mangled pile of pie in a Fed-Ex box on his birthday.

As you've probably guessed, I did finally find a bakery in his small town that would make a pie and deliver it for a not small but not exhorbitant fee and had it sent to his work on his birthday (after confirming he'd be working and after calling his lab to make sure all his coworkers knew it was his big SIX FIVE and would embarass him thoroughly.

On the big day, I get a call from him, "Did you send me a pie?" I guess the bakery didn't include the message from me like I'd requested, but I love that he figured out it was me. He also didn't figure out that I was the one who told his coworkers because I guess he yelled at my mom that night. He was telling me what a narc she was the next day to which I had to gleefully and maniacally take the blame.

So many evil laughs were had.

Guess which one is my dad. 

The other day, Eminem and I were driving around Portland and we saw this guy walking on the side of the road. He wasn't limping exactly, more like walking very very carefully and he was carring a sleeping bag.

And Eminem goes, "He's not wearing shoes!" Which explained the careful walking.

And it's not like this guy seemed homeless. He was fairly clean-looking, wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and the bare feet of course. Besides, most homeless that don't find or steal shoes would get big calluses on their feet I would assume. So if this guy was homeless, he was new at it.

So we started trying to figure out this dude's story. Maybe he was camping and was attacked my bears and escaped only with his sleeping bag. Nope, unlikely in the middle of Portland. And then I had it! He cheated on his wife and she threw him out, shoeless, and threw a sleeping bag at him from the upstairs window as a final move. Can't you picture it? It made total sense.

And Eminem goes, "I will always wear socks."

He's lucky he's so cute, I tell ya what.

Nonetheless, as you can imagine, we've been doing really great. I just never thought someone like him existed.

Yesterday, he made me gluten free fried chicken and I was watching him cook (something I've always found so attractive in a man) and thinking about how attentive he is and how conscientious he is of my dietary issues and just how he's so smart and funny and sweet and pretty much totally fucking wonderful, and I started crying.  I was just overwhelmed with happiness. I rarely cry when I'm happy. I really hope he's not reading right now because so far? He's everything I've ever wanted and I can't believe I'm actually saying that and I'm blushing as I type that right now. But I can't help myself. 

I've told you how much I love my cat right? My sweet, dumb Hobbes boy? I do. I love that big lug. But last week I killed him. I had to. The little shit.

I awoke to find that the brat had peed on my couch and a bunch of my clothes, which he's never done before. Needless to say, I was pissed. Literally.

It turned out okay. I washed everything in vinegar and nothing smells, and Hobbes hid from my wrath for a couple days.

But then a week later, I was brushing some fleas off Hobbes (He had an outbreak. I medicated. Is okay now.) as he was on my lap and I guess one must have bit him because he freaked out, tried to roll over quickly to bite it, got his claw caught in the couch, screamed like he was dying, and peed all over me.

Yup. That happened. So now I have a cat that gets scared and pees everywhere. Awesome.

And then today I discovered he'd peed all over my backpack too. Was he scared? Upset at me for spending the night elsewhere last night? I don't fucking know. And what the hell will happen when I travel? Will he pee all over everything? Do I need to cover my whole apartment in plastic? Fucking fuck fuck.

Damn cat. Don't ever tell me I don't know what it's like to have a special needs child. I have Hobbes.

Not a guilty face

Photo of the Day: Lenny

Isn't my Hobbes so sweet. He's such a big dumb lug, sometimes I swear he's the cat incarnation of Lenny from Of Mice and Men. "Hey George. The mouse is soft, George."

Photo of the Day: Just Hobbes

SO much is going on right now, all good thing, but I hardly have time to think let alone write a long post. But one will be coming. Some day. I promise.

In the meantime, please to enjoy this gorgeous photo I took of my Hobbes the other day. It's just been so damn sunny in Portland, what else could I do but subject my boy to yet another photo shoot?

Photo of the Day: Mythical Beast

This is one of my neighbor's many cats, which I will not miss in the least when I move. Especially this asshole here who like to taunt and hiss at my cats through the screen door,  the fat bastard. He's very elusive, however. Or, as a guy I once dated said about himself ad nauseum, he's aloof. 

So the other day, as I was walking to the recycle bin and I saw this guy nestled there beside my house like a unicorn on some medieval tapestry, I couldn't resist snapping a shot. And would you look at that tongue. My friend says he looks demonic. 

Photo of the Day: No One Nose

I didn't have a great day today. Was once again, as usual, a complete idiot and fuckup and I should really be freelance already so I stop causing harm to others. And then I swam a good 20 laps after work (and I swam hard), but still didn't feel better. Plus I found a suspicious mole this morning and have convinced myself I have skin cancer and am about to lose my benefits so will die a painful death in a homeless shelter (I might be slightly melodramatic).

But you know what does make me feel a little better? This absolutely scrumptious photo of my Hobbes' nose. Don't you want to rub your face in the soft, white fur? I could smear frosting on that pink nose and eat it all up.