Letters From the Grave

Dear Allergies,

You’ve been gone for a few years, and just like getting a tattoo or menstruating, I forgot the discomfort until it happens again. I’m not sure what it is…bluegrass? Sage? Desert dust? Yer mom’s detergent? It’s like being hungover without drinking.

Hate you,

Grumpy Stuffed Face

_____

Dear Battlewhore Galactica,

I feel like I’ve been watching a really long movie, and this forth and final season is making me want to tear my hair out (of my head). I am being infinately patient in the four episodes I’ve seen, and the Starbuck storyline is killing me. You know I’m tempted to put a bumper sticker on Ms. Fugi that says “When Battlestar gets to Earth, I got dibs on Starbuck.” I don’t know what to say about how she is being treated other than you better fraking turn the tables and make her fraking rock again real soon. I’m going to have a heart attack.

KThanks,

Still Breathing Hot & Heavy Over You

_____

Dear Potential Dog,

As I was hiking up in the foothills last weekend, I thought to myself, This is real dumb, I should have a dog or pepper spray. And then when I found out last week I live next to a halfway house, I thought to myself, I shouldn’t dance around naked in the living room.

Since Gus The Stray Cat is getting settled, I mean since I have accepted him, and I am enjoying not having anyone else with me in the human form, I would maybe like a dog. I would need an adult dog, mellow yet needs exercise, and mentally solid/not neurotic. You must like cats, long walks, swimming, being alone with cats during work hours, car rides, the cabin, loud music, and Starbuck.

We’ll See,

Auntie

Earth Day Gus

In celebration of Earth Day today, I planted herbages. Gus was very helpful. Such a gentleman.

Be kind to yer mama Earth. And cats.

Sooo High, Dude

Wherein I get my cats high on catnip -

And she fell off and her sis came and took her place and could only give me one expression:

What? It’s Friday Again?

I’m not sure how this happened but the week went by in two shakes of a lambs tail. I’m pretty sure it involved 5 loads of laundry, Gus being mad at me for not giving him wet food every day (antibiotics done), Taxes; The Last Struggle, a west African drum concert, a last day at an agriwhore temp job where I sold my soul to the devil himself, officially going vegetarian again (also in time for Earth Day), washing 64 bird turds off Ms. Fugi Subaru, and preparation for Battlewhore tonight which includes Pabst and sweeping.

Today was the first day since moving to Ida-ho that I let the girls outside (with strict supervision). They thought they were bad-asses, and Gus was tolerant of them being on his turf.

Gus and Lucky Lou looking at Chi-Chi like, What the hell?

Because Chi-Chi can be dramatic, Gus is all, Dude, Chill, I could take you but I won’t cuz I like yer mama. I totally know how he feels. With your mom. (Also, look how huge he is compared to the ladies) (Also, right after this, they acted like nothing happened).

Geek: Part Two

I think maybe not getting any has a wee bit to do with it, but I am so wound up for Fridays at 7pm, channel 56, that I am pretty much jumping out of my skin by 11am and coffee doesn’t help. This evening while checking up on my cute little old mother’s hospital procedure from last week that has had complications, I said the following on my parent’s speaker phone at about 120 words per second with my native northern California accent:

“And then I went to a pawn shop and a thrift store and they wanted like $150 bucks for a crappy TV and I thought I could just buy one on sale somewhere for that kind of money I mean all I want is something bigger than a 13 inch screen and I’m having to prop it up and jimmy-rig the headphone jack to get just one of my big speakers to work and then I’m pulling the futon like 2 feet in front of the TV just so we can watch it. We’re having pizza too! Both nieces are coming – did I tell you I’ve addicted them to the show too?!”

I’m pretty sure they thought I was drunk or something. But I was just being a geek. Really. They got off the phone real quick.

Battlewhore has taken over my life, and I’m okay with that.

Totally ignoring me.

Dear Gus Nubbin,

You have been so very patient and persistent. And loud. You have successfully gotten me to feed & water you regularly, to say goodnight after giving you pets every evening, and to keep two windows partially open during the night so you could see us. You have touched noses with my girls through the doorway, and although the thing you would like most of all (to come inside) has been forbidden, you have remained diligent (and charmingly annoying).

I’m pretty sure you know by now that I’m a moron. In fact, on the way to the vet yesterday you were telling me what a moron I am. When the vet told me you were ALREADY FIXED, I had two reactions; relief you wouldn’t have to have surgery, and gay girl anatomy confusion. Who knew that those furry ball sacks weren’t holding testicles unless you felt around?

Also, the vet said you’re about six years old. And very loud. And the vet loved you because you were so handleable and sweet. Now that you’ve been tested for cat illnesses and had your shots and are on antibiotics for the last brawl’s injury (evil raccoon?), you said, “Lady, you promised,” and held me to it. Last night you came in, did a once through, deferred to my pissed off cats, and went to the door saying, “Thanks, we’ll try again.” When I went out to say goodnight, you ended up on my lap for the first time and didn’t want to leave it when my butt was freezing to the cement and I wanted to go in. I literally had to peel you off me, something that I’m used to with other people’s moms.

Gus Nubbin, you are effing rad. You have impressed me with your street-smart cool personality, you have persevered through being abandoned, and you’ve trained me to be your next person. You’re my ninth cat rescue, and hopefully you’ll be around a long time, yeowling and all. Sassy Nub.

Auntie

p.s. second time inside, all you wanted was to snooze on my futon. you are such a ho.

Obsessions, Crackwhores, and Pot

And then I just watched the premier of Battlestar and I feel like I just had sex, much like after a good glass of jimmy and ginger. Mostly because I’ve been waiting one year for this season to finally start. Really, mostly because I’m obsessed. I’ve never been so obsessed with a show and now I somehow feel dirty because I sound just as obsessed about it as a previous crackwhore boss that I hated with a fiery passion. But I don’t take 3 valiums and have 2 beers before work and then snort a line in the bathroom for elevensies.

But so today while on errands, I was at the hip record store in town and I get a call from a niece. I explain I have to go get planting soil and a pot because Chi Chi Rodriguez Sanchez Munoz Gonzalez Ramirez knocked over a plant I’ve had for 10 years that was in my favorite clay pot. And I found the destruction one second before I had to fly out the door for my second temp job at an evil corporation and of course I was running slightly late. But anyway, the conversation:

Niece: Well, I have extra soil and pots, so I’ll bring it over tonight.

Me: What kind of pot do you have?

Everyone in the store: (Looking at me).

Me: (whispered) Oh, that sounded really bad.

Everyone in the store: (Looking. at. me.).

Me: I mean clay or plastic.

Me: haha. Um, ha.