30 November 2004
A side of starch. With my starch. Thank you.
Well, let me first dispense with the pictures.
There we go.
So, food was made and food was eaten and thanks were given, if by "thanks were given," you mean "more food was eaten, oh dear
God." I lurched around the kitchen chopping and mixing dirtying all the pans I could find and groaning about how my legs hurt
because on Tuesday I had gone to the gym and been personally trained by some guy named Johnny who wanted me to sign up for
regular personal training which, hahahaha. Maybe he knew I was going to say no at the end and so he just dispensed from the
start with, you know, anything resembling mercy. (Be warned that if something similar happens to you you will totally deserve
all the "WELL if you hadn't spent that hour with JOHNNY maybe your ASS wouldn't HURT so much HAHAHAHA" jokes that you get.)
Anyhow! Melanie H. came over bearing wine and pumpkin cake, and we all ate, eat eat eat, yum yum yum, the end.
Pigeon is recovering well from her mysterious urinary difficulties... she's done with the antibiotics but is supposed to stay on
the Elavil (MY CAT TAKES ELAVIL SHOOT ME NOW) for a full six weeks. The past several nights Tiffany and I have perfected a
better system for administering the wee but apparently vile pill wherein I hold the cat on the table, squished under one arm,
and tilt her head as far up as possible. She clenches her jaw, we pry it open, Tiffany stands over the cat's head and wings the
hated pill as far down Pigeon's angry little esophagus as it will go. Then I hold her mouth shut and immediately point her head
down at the table; this movement apparently forces her to swallow it without giving her the chance to, uh, commence frothing.
Frothing blue foam all over the place like she's been bitten by a rabid Smurf. Oh, kitty, GROSS.
I am at work now, working. Pay no attention to the window behind all the work-related windows. Look away from the screen!!
One of the owners brought us ginger cookies with real chopped candied ginger in them, so I will go tend to those now. Mmmm,
cookie-tending.
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23 November 2004
The $600 Question
That is what Pigeon asked us: Do you love me $600 worth of love? And
by love, I mean cryptic tests at the vet, and sedation, and boarding,
and catheterization, and a prescription for Elavil?
We said yes. And we did not even cry. Much.
The vet took pity on us when he prescribed additional antibiotics, at
least -- he tossed the box of cat-amoxycillin at me and said Take this!
Go! I'll cover for you! And we scuttled out with the cat hissing madly
at nothing in her box and the free antibiotics in my bag, as if the $20
difference mattered after all the other money we had just coughed up.
So the cat is getting better. And the cat is on antidepressants, so she
puts up with all of our shit, which is pretty funny. I had thought that
the half-a-pill of Elavil would be easier to administer -- just toss it
down and keep her mouth shut until she swallows -- than the disgusting
banana-scented liquid antibiotics, but it turns out that at least with
the liquid stuff there is some room for error -- DEGREES of medication,
see? With the liquid, we can get it into the cat... MOSTLY. Which
works out ok. With the pill, we can get it into the cat... FOR A LITTLE
WHILE. Which is not the same at all. Also, slimy.
One more thing about medicating the cat: it turns out that the way to
do it is NOT to pop her mouth open and squirt the medicine in; rather,
it works much better to simply hold her tightly by the scruff and wait
for her to give up and open her mouth. And she WILL. Oh, defeated
beast.
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15 November 2004
Weekend: Visual Aids
On Saturday I participated in many wholesome activities: playing a board
game called Like Minds, drinking hot chocolate, seeing The Incredibles again,
eating donuts, playing Scattergories, and eating
pot pie. Me and my wholesome friends! Crazy!
On Sunday I stayed in my sweatpants all day, did laundry, and finally took the air
conditioner out of the window. Hmm.
Today on the street where I work (that is, the street on which my workplace is located, I do
not actually work the street) an old lady was apparently run over by a truck or a car. I do
not know what it is with that area. It seems not terribly interesting or dangerous, but
then people go getting run over, or being shot to death by the police like that man in front
of the Whole Foods, or jumping off of the roofs of nearby buildings like the woman visiting
the center for the blind. Perhaps I have more incentives than I thought to seek a new job.
Ok, I am tired of recounting, here are pictures, with appropriate warnings:
Caution!
This leads to pictures of me that are so doofy I cannot even call them
narcissistic.
Further caution! This leads to cat pictures, some of which got hit a bit too hard with the old
Photoshop-experimentation stick.
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9 November 2004
The Collected Works of Jeffrey
So, every few weeks at work we've been receiving envelopes in the mail
-- I know! Shocking! No, wait, bear with me -- envelopes postmarked
from San Diego, bearing no return address, and containing pages scrawled
with a few messy bars of music and cryptic titles.
We've begun referring to the composor/author/mentally unstable fellow as
Jeffrey, because that is the name that recurs most in the titles of the
compositions.
Jeffrey, keep it coming! We salute you! Just stay on the other side
of the country, okay?
Right, so, here they are. All misspellings belong to the composer. Me,
I think he should write something other than sonatas if he's not going
to learn to spell the word.
Riverside Dove
Cali Girl Mattel Concertos
Kate Hudson Sonota Opus 7
Lord Jeffrey Sonota B
Social Security Doll 7
Opus 4186
The Great Centuries of Exscaped
By Jeffrey Adams Michael Harris
Sonota Mass Concertos
Finance (Gains Roller)
By Pop Yellow
The Single Folks
Opus 7 Concerto 8
Contact Wise Sonota
Impress Doll 4R Sonota
By Jeff Rock
The Greatness of Jeffrey
Sonota 4731
Time Dove Sonota
Great Glory of the State Concerto
Boy Rock
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- 4 November 2004 -
Ah. Sadness. Worry. Anger. Despair. Disbelief.
Mostly-kidding research into Canadian immigration.
(But, gorgeous! Mountains! Someday when I have enough money for a
vacation, someday when I make more money and my cat doesn't have some
bladder problem that requires antibiotics, someday... later. Speaking
of cats, they don't have to be quarantined or anything when you move to
Canada! Not that I would!)
More later, perhaps. I am not precisely surprised but still deeply
pissed off. And soon I have to go home and squirt foul medicine into my
angry, angry cat.
P.S. Dear Electorate, Cake or Death?
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- 2 November 2004 -
VOTE IT. BAM!
I did already, early this morning, and there was a line out the door but
it moved quickly and the whole thing only took half an hour. I had
never used a voting machine before! Big lever, little switches, big
lever! See, I figured it out all right.
I also retook that personality disorder test that everyone took awhile
ago... Hm.
I don't know about that.
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