The Zombies are Coming. Step 2 Done.

The beginnings of my madness can be seen here and here. Essentially, I want to be prepared for the worst and be able to take care of myself and Fur Posse should anything go down. I know that sounds a little out there, but here is reasoning from my own life:

• I felt the economic downturn last year by living off of grilled cheese sandwiches and PBR. It was a tough year and there were several occasions I had $6 to my name. Because of this, I think of preparing by backing up my food supply and cash on hand. Anybody could loose their job. I don’t spend money on stuff like I might have before last year.
• Living at the cabin (I know, that right there is a privileged statement so what’s my problem) I almost had to evacuate in the middle of the night because of a fire, and then would have had to take the long way to Boise for a week if I had needed supplies. This makes me think about always having enough gas in the car to make it at least 75 miles and having enough supplies on hand. Member when the current war started and people were lined up for miles at gas stations? When shit goes down, people line up at gas stations, I’ll tell you what.
• Also at the cabin, during the worst winter in many years, I got snowed in twice – one of which I ran out of cat food and Ms. Fugi and my driving skills saved the day. My mechanic said because of the year of the Legacy, I didn’t do damage. The newer ones would have had entire pieces missing. I was real proud.

Big deal, but add these together with the rest of the world’s state, and I have my own recipe for fanatics. Last fall, the election could have turned this world into something else, although, I’m dubious about the way things are going now. Natural disasters even in our own country are not dealt with in a way that sits well. Hi, Katrina. There will be more “natural disasters” than ever before. There are events in all of our immediate locations that are very real – In Seattle one winter, the power was out for 6 days during the coldest weather in years. If the ex and I hadn’t been on the outs and had an apartment with a fireplace, we would have been hosed. Our infrastructure throughout the U.S. is failing; the dams above Boise are 80 years old and need updating. What if they broke? What if the power went out here in the frozen-for-weeks-at-a-time winter? I know, what ifs, but very plausible what ifs that I believe we should have in the back of our minds and prepare for.

I have procured a small “survival kit” with the standard trinkets and a really good first aid kit for the Fur Posse and I. Also, I have a short-wave radio, and standard camping gear. I have yet to spend money on a good water purification handy filter thingy. I have placed things like this in sexy bags in a central location along with cat carriers. Well. Of course along with cat carriers, shut up. Did y’all see what happened to people’s pets in Katrina? I have also taken back-up supplies to the cabin. This somehow unsettled my cute mom who was there when I arrived with a week’s worth of Fur Posse food and human food and re-filled the water storage. She was all, “I didn’t know it got that bad for you to feel you have to do this.” And I was all, “Now I just need a good axe for the Zombies.”

And she was all, “Great. Now your a zealot and a Lesbian.”

Well, one in the same, really. At least my tits are still hot. Barely. Which will not help my survival rate according to horror movies.

Dilemma of a Fat Back Butt Crack

Dear Tracker: I know they’re not exact cat or dog prints. The intention was to incorporate both so shut yo mouth. (Love y’all).

See, the problem is that I feel like the tatt ain’t finished. I want something more to it. Like the four elements from the movie Fifth Element – squiggly lines representing Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water around it or something. Representation of caring about this Earth and its creatures. Or an arrow pointing down with the words “Free Mustache Rides”. Somebody please design my trampstamp kthanksbye.

Long Pics. Rad Weekend.

Morning coffee view with dead dog on the deck:

Toy mouse from my own rigged ‘fishing-for-kitties’ fishing pole. Mama cast too hard with the fan on and it’s still stuck in the fan motor 30-feet up. Brilliant. (Chi Chi Rodriguez Sanchez Munoz Gonzalez Ramirez always helpful):

Horrible Kittens. Just Terrible.

So I thought I’d leave you with a picture of hamsters instead. Hamster – I don’t even know her. Have a terrific weekend. May your day be paid off and made into three. I’ll be on the deck, on the deck.

Cocktail Update

It’s been a while since I’ve had a cock. Tail. Ever since BSG ended, I haven’t had the heart. A co-worker has been raving about vodka and Fresca (TM), and I’ve been all – without even a juice in there? And she has been all, straight-up vodka and Fresca (TM) rocks.

It does not. Not at all. In fact, it sucks. It sucks real bad. Even with fresh squeezed lime. I recommend the old stand-by: Toss a bunch of ice in a glass – almost full. Put it: 1/3 vodka, more than 1/3 ginger ale, less than 1/3 juice. Stir it, lazyass. I recommend a real ginger ale, like where they use actual ginger and not crap you can’t pronounce. I also recommend real fruit juice, especially peach, rasberry, or pineapple. During these difficult times, the middle-shelf vodka I like is Smirnoff (TM). It mixes really well.

Happy summer cock. Tailing.
p.s. Holla to the originator: PattiPants.

Um, dude. I had never seen one before.

All these 3.7 years I’ve been listening to them, I had never seen a video or performance. Wow.

Brazilian Girls – Lazy Lover: Live in NYC/Anamorphic

Also, I think I’m going to dress up like her for Halloween. Or casual Friday at work.

Two Dogs in the Desert

I do not take Charlie fossil hunting with me for fear of rattlers and feral bulls, and other such things I will not mention here (Dear Ranchers with Rifles) (also, I am too focused on finding petrified lobster tails and petrified wood to worry about where Charlie is pooping), but there are a couple of trails in the foothills of the Owyhees that are fairly safe for city dogs to go on. Hi DeAnna and pup Corrie! (click here for her awesome blog) Of course I’m blogging about it. Like I mentioned, I do not want people to think Charlie only ever sees a crappy Ikea rug or a crappy chain fence.

Below, Ms. Fugi is waiting patiently in the background. So different than seeing her buried in snow. Dear new timing belt & water pump, cam & crank seals, valve covers & seal, and radiator hoses: Thanks for taking me everywhere I want to go, right in time for tax returns, sweet Baby Jesus, Amen.

Stinky Neuter Pants

I attempted to take him to a low-cost neuter clinic this week (His Balls! Balls!), but it will be a knock-down-drag-out fight to get him in a box (That’s what she said). He is a twin of Gus’s, with a tail though (did you know that 1/3 of Manx’s have tails? Fascinating! Shit, get a life). That means he’s automatically a super persistent a-hole; it comes with the genes apparently. I don’t like this one though, and he’s feral. That’s right, I don’t like him, but I’ll try to help give him a chance to be healthy and fend for himself better because that’s the least of what I can do, Not our problem! Somebody else should have fixed him! He won’t live very long anyway! or my recent favorite from work – My husband just shot a cat like that because he looked like he would infect us with a disease!

And I was all, You’re right. Just last week I caught a cold from a cat down the street.

Guess who loves him. Weird, she treats everybody else with disdain except for this dingleberry, who is caught in my butthairs, the butthairs of a crazy cat lady that is too young to be a crazy.cat.lady.

Why, why do male cats have to mark perfectly nice things? Why, why did Ron Moore have to destroy the last few years of my life?

My Uterus

is quite demanding. I have actually quelled her demands in the last few years. First, I have to Feed the Bleed. Days before even exposing herself, I must eat whatever she wants. It can get to be expensive, what with the double-A batteries too. There’s also speaking the blunt truth during this time, which is often equated to “Bitchy,” but really, it’s because the truth hurts. Then, my Uterus makes me look like I’m sick, when I am not. In fact, I could hike for two hours, eat the most wholesome of meals, get enough sleep, and wake up to look like I died already. Then suddenly I have to expel excrement from the last 8 years, when I have no problem with regularity or food in general. After a half hour of this violent expulsion and there’s still more to come, I bury my head in my hands and whisper to my cat sitting on the sink next to me, “Where the eff does all this come from?” I eat 20% more to Feed the Bleed and I poop 182% more! It’s magic!

Then I feel like I need to go into a deep sleep in another dimension for days, but I do not, for nobody else here washes my panties, walks the dog, goes to work, or feeds me beer. As the Ute finishes the sluff, my pits smell ghastly, and I want to pee constantly.

Then I have to do all this again next month. And again. Again. Again.

What a fascinating process, full of disturbing bodily functions and strange emotions. Every Month for 35 Years! I have threatened to dig it out with a spoon, but I’m sure the full-body natural douche it brings every time must be worth it. Mustn’t it? Even though I’m never bearing kittens. There’s computer programs to see what a person would look like from me – I don’t have to actually have one to see, like many terrible people do.

Computerized image of what my uterus would bring: