Just Your Average Thursday Night

Brushed my cat.  Made him a toupee.

Toupee blends easily with the hair you have.

Comfort level of custom toupee is high - one hardly knows one is wearing it...

Side view - even when one shakes one's head vigorously, it doesn't fall off.  And even when it does, you just pick it up and run around behind the cat until you can hold him down and force him to wear it again*.

Top view.  One is getting on in years and now has a grey toupee

Early stages of the fitting.  The less impressed and what the hell is going on stage...

I know what you're thinking.  Should have made him an eye. An eye out of fur.  You people are ridiculous.  I am however thinking of fashioning it into a patch...

*No cats were hurt in the making and fitting of the custom toupee.  They were however very pissed off and felt undignified.

When Things Get Hard...I Come Up With Solutions

• "Check Engine" light came on in my car. I tried driving around and wiggling the car in a zigzag-like way, in case the recent oil change shook something loose and made the light come on*. Didn't work. Just going to buy a new car instead.
• Timer on dryer doesn't work. Just stopped using dryer. Put clothes in spare room and turned heat on high.
• Plant died. Left it there as warning to other plants not to step out of line.
• Hem fell down on dress. Gave it to Goodwill.
• Cat lost his eye. Let him keep the other one.
• No eggs left in the fridge.  Went without**
• Got leg stuck in aerial silk class.  Hung casually upside down as if no big deal. Tried to look like I was meant to be there, which meant refusing offer of help to get down. I'm going to need someone to bring me a snack.
• My teeth fell out in someone's ear***. 

I know, I know - this just had such a favorable response that I'm trying to work it into every post...

Basically, I don't care whether the glass is half full or half empty, I just want there to be wine in it.

*Hey - it could happen.
**And by without, I mean, drove to cafe and made them cook me eggs.
***I actually have no solution for this. Everybody loses. Except me cos lots of people want to look at this and I think that means - "cash cow"!

What Happened Yesterday

Very little. There was an accident that resulted in my not getting out of bed until 5pm. It was fantastic. You know why I can do that? Because I have no responsibilities - no kids, no partner, no chores* demanding my attention. For a short period of time there was a cat howling outside the door demanding attention but I just turned over. I knew he'd be there when I got up. Sure enough, open the door, he fell right in. There's a lesson right there. Don't sleep hard up against a door - at some point it will be opened and you will look stupid.

After getting up, I made myself some breakfast. At 5pm. Because I can. Did a couple of handstands. I'm on a mission but that's another post. Then made my way to the couch where it was time to kick back and relax a little. Turned on the Golden Globes, criticized all the dresses, did my own version of the cut-off music by clapping when I'd had enough of the speeches.

Thought about showering but am in the process of saving the planet so...you're welcome.  Cut to the end of the day, which comes around all too quickly when you get up at 5pm, and I realize not being productive, wallowing in your own filth and just not caring about what people think, leads to a most excellent day.  Let's do this again.  Tomorrow.  At work.

*Well I had chores but I resolved to sleep in my own filth for one more day, not vacuum for one more day, just eat whatever was in the fridge that was passable and wear all the clothes that I'd already gotten out and put on the floor.  For easy access.

Do You Know What Love Is?

Love is picking up your cat, tipping him upside down, listening to him purr and watching him pump his little legs like he's riding a bike because the act of you holding him is ecstasy.

Love is having him lick the salt off your face when you've been crying*, then watching him go pfft, pfft with his tongue, trying to spit the taste out because he accidentally got some of your expensive moisturizing lotion. But still coming back for more.

Love is having him sit as close as possible to you without caring about whether you've put on weight, instead embracing the fact that there is more lap to go around.

Love is him waking up the instant you use the "come here' voice, making a beeline for you and being thrilled that you called. No complaints about being disturbed and ordered to do something. Just huge excitement.

Love is him turning around 1000 times on my lap before getting comfortable because he thinks he's in it for the long haul and wants to get his spot just right.

Love is having him look adoringly at my face regardless of wrinkles or age**.

Love is your cat sprinting to meet you the instant you open the door but playing it cool on alternate days so you don't get a fat head or over estimate your importance.

Love is being welcomed home by your cat after leaving them for a week while you went on vacation. With no recriminations. And not even complaining when they accidentally got stowed away with the luggage after the unpacking***.

Love is having him help with the laundry by lying all over it. But only when it's clean****.

Love is being greeted the instant you step out of the shower by winding around your legs until they are covered in black hairs. Actually this isn't love, this is just annoying.

Love is hiding under the couch when a burglar comes but hissing and lunging at small children that visit. Wait. Not love. This is erratic, unexplainable behavior.

Love is ignoring the cat lady jokes that are sure to follow...and by love I mean, I will not scratch***** anyone's eyes out for making such comments, because the new me loves everyone.  Mostly.  Except for some of you.

*Not me because I don't cry. I'm too brave. And crying is for girls.
**He has poor eyesight. Also, only one eye. So doesn't really have a leg to stand on when it comes to criticism. And just to be clear, he has all his legs. I'm only responsible for the eye.
***Not really my fault - he climbed in when I wasn't looking and I got him out as soon as I heard the crying from the closet. Possibly, he was making a point. At the wrong end of the journey.
****The fact that I didn't yell (Much. For very long) at him shows I love him. This is a reverse love example.
*****Pun intended 

Guest Post by Albert Nigel Finlayson

A day in the life of me. Albert. A cat.

3am: Day starts. Wake Mum up by howling outside her door. Will use ear piercing "help me, I'm in terrible pain/danger" scream to get her attention. Did not work - she has stone cold heart. Still don't know why I'm not allowed in to lie on white duvet. What's this round thing in the hallway? Will lie next to it on cold hard floor for a couple of hours until she wakes up.

3:02am: Still not awake. Meow softly in my outside voice.
3:06am: She's getting up. Yeah, lets get this day started!! Umm, that hit me*. False alarm. Turns out she is not ready to get up.
7:00am: Definitely getting up. Apparently not talking to me. Which is fine because I'm very tired after patrolling hallway all night and yowling at regular intervals. I need to lie down. Also, I put all your folded laundry from the table on the floor.
8:00am: She's leaving. So tired. Can hardly wave goodbye. Give her goodbye wink instead**

Not my best side

8:05am: What in the hell...?? Someone coughed two streets over, scared the crap out of me - going under couch.
8am - 4pm: Sleep under couch. Above couch is for when she is here and things are not so terrifying. Not that I'm scared, I just have business under here.
4pm: Get small snack. Attempt to take small snack over to water bowl. Fail.  Leave it all over floor. Not my job.  Clean self. Eat, clean, eat, clean. All very sanitary.
5pm: Wait with bated breath for her to get home.
5pm: Unable to hold breath any longer. Take short nap as excitement of her arrival has gotten too much

Roll to the left, roll to the left.  Dammit, went right

5:15pm: Rudely awakened by falling off couch. Warning: Don't get too comfortable, you will forget yourself and turn over and "over" will be empty space and you will not land on your feet as that is a myth started by dogs. Dirty dogs.
6pm: Hear key in lock - go behind couch just in case it's a ninja burglar with a key. No, it's her. Attach self directly behind Mum. Am allowed to go everywhere with her. Ok, not there. Or there either. Confined to couch which is now called "Everywhere".
6:30pm: She's sitting down to have her dinner, must mean she wants me to sit on lap next to plate of food. Not much room. Plate has to go. Push plate off. What the hell was that loud crash? Scared me. Thought about going under couch but am being brave. Will just check and see if I left anything there from last time. 
6:35pm: I would like a piece of that - thanks. Nope, didn't like it. Licked and left it over there. Bit soggy
6:48: Hi. 

7pm: Get up, stretch legs, do a lap around the house. Spontaneously shed in one spot. Think about going outside - jump up on kitchen counter, not sure why there are stools here when it's so much more awkward to go out the cat flap from the counter.
7:02pm: Bad idea. People out there. Do another lap of room - stare at things that aren't there and then jump in fright at nothing.
8:03pm: Got yelled at for being on the table. Responded with "you're not my real Mum!'
8:05pm: Made up

Is this comfortable for you too?

11pm - 2am: Patrol neighborhood. By looking out of tiny hole, under house. Got everything covered. Can leap to anyone's rescue immediately. But probably won't. Important not to interfere when there is a chance of getting hurt.
2:01am: Let me sing you a song called "there's no food in my damn bowl"

3am: Repeat

*Didn't really hit him, just lightly tapped him lovingly. With a shoe. He's being overly dramatic. No need to contact the SPCA.
**Lie - was not a wink, he just closed his eye and since the other one is missing, it's called going to sleep not winking.

Nemesis - The First On the List

I have nemesis's. Nemesisi? Nemesisses? Nemeses? What the hell do I have if I have more than one?? What I am trying to say is that I have several things that I am in mortal terror of and can also now add "pluralization"*. According to the dictionary, nemesis" is something that is your downfall. Which sounds about right when I think about cake.

However, my biggest nemesis is this...the cockroach. Recently, this morning, while lying prone on the couch trying to recover from making breakfast, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a cockroach. Let me be clear, this is the first cockroach I have seen in my house since I moved to LA and is in no way a reflection of my cleaning habits which my mother can attest to being obsessive. I learned everything I know from her. If you pay someone to come and clean your house, you must clean it thoroughly yourself first so that they do not think you are pigs. If you are going on vacation, you must vacuum the ceilings. Regardless of how high and difficult it is, you must get up on ladders and scaffolding and wash your windows - fear of falling and killing yourself is second to fear of people seeing your dirty windows. Also, in case the Queen comes to visit, you must always have freshly washed floors and you can't use a mop, you must get down on your hands and knees. Because the more pain you are in, the cleaner it will be.

Anyway. I don't like cockroaches - nobody does but I have a mortal fear of them. Spiders are fine but cockroaches will kill you**. We get a lot of them in New Zealand and my mother will tackle the shit out of them - they run when they see her. This one saw me and raised its middle finger***. I looked at him and yelled "release the hounds". But, I don't have hounds. I also don't think they attack cockroaches but I had to do something effective****. Then I got the cat, placed his right (and only) eye in front of the cockroach and gave the attack command. He looked at the cockroach, then at me and went to his safe place under the couch. I am starting to question his usefulness. In anything.

So I have done the only thing I can do, called my mother to fly out and fix the problem. I've packed a bag and I'll be at the hotel down the road until the situation is resolved.

*Thought it wasn't a word, looked it up, is a word. Faced my fear and no longer have plurals on the nemesis list.
**Not confirmed by anyone but me because one of them told me he would kill me and he was very convincing.
***Cockroaches have very small fingers that you can't see. Probably.
****Not effective

The Real Story of How Albert Lost His Eye

Disclaimer: Not cats were harmed in the writing of this blog post, however they did get very annoyed and one of us is bleeding.
 
Sit down, let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, this morning, my cat's eye fell out.*

A long, long time ago, last year,** Albert was outside playing in the back yard at his house*** in Beaverton, Oregon when a feral cat jumped him from behind. The cats name was Franco****. Apparently they had some beef over the property line?

By the time I got home from work, he was facing the wrong way on the couch, crying and his iris was bulging out. I immediately did what every good parent does and YouTubed how to poke cats iris back in.  Surprisingly little out there.  This was one of those times when a Hello Kitty band-aid is just not enough to fix it. Yes, that is normally how I fix him - stick a couple of band-aids on and neosporin him every time he walks past.

Problem solved

Dear Neosporin - I gave you a free plug, how about you do the same for me?

A little too late...this is his resigned look after about an hour of me chasing him around sticking band-aids on and trying to take his picture

Thank goodness for the internet (what did people do before when their cats eye fell out?) because with a little searching, I found a place that specializes in cats eyes and we drove across the city in the dark and the howling wind and rain. Pretty sure both of us were crying at this point. Granted, he had more to cry about. But I've always been a sympathetic crier - what really kills me is the senseless fake deaths of actors on TV shows. Tragic.

Once we finally arrived, I rushed him in and the receptionist took one look, grabbed the intercom and announced "Triage to reception, triage to reception". The vet bore him away and I pulled myself together by sitting in a puddle of tears. An hour or so of waiting and I was ready to poke out my own eye. Finally the vet came out to break the news. We've had to remove his right fore-leg. Umm, I brought him in with a lacerated eyeball.  I think you've made a mistake, I'm going to need you to put that back.

So then they brought me in to see him and I redirected them to the right cat - he was doped up on morphine and completely in love with me. Rubbing his manky, crusty, half eye on me (yet to be removed, scheduled for the op in the morning), I was ready just to write-off being a parent. The eye was removed, the eyelid cut back and six months later the fur grew over the top of it and you'd never know there used to be an eye there. He certainly doesn't. In fact he forgot about twenty minutes after the removed it which makes me question his intelligence a little. Which is mean because as a parent, you're supposed to think yours are the bestest and smartest as evidenced by those car stickers "My kid is an honor roll student at XXX school". Thinking of getting one for Albert "My cat lost his eye but even before that happened he was dumber than your honor roll kid but he's a cat so it's not a very good comparison and maybe your kid isn't that smart if he's only smarter than a one-eyed cat.  Catchy, right?

So, the only side effects I've noticed are when I'm on his left side and I call him, he can't figure out where the voice is coming from. Soon as he turns his head, he's all "Oh hey - what's up".

*Not true. Contrary to popular belief, Albert's eye did not fall out one day. Also for those who are wondering, it hasn't grown back.
**Also not true but sounds good.
*** Again, a lie. Albert doesn't have a house, he's a cat. He doesn't even have pockets to put his house key in.
**** His name wasn't Franco, it was "cat".  He's feral, feral cats don't care about names, they care about ripping eyeballs out. 

Eyes Wide Shut

Both open except that one of them is no longer in his eye socket

Terrible Accidents That Have Happened To Me

When candles fight...

Suicidal Orchid

Day is ruined

Game over.

 

Before photo of cat vomit on bathmat. For the sake of those with weaker stomachs, I won't post the after photo. Just know that the bathmat doesn't look like this anymore. Also, was probably not an accident...

Face-off between leather(ish) skirt and open drawer. 

 Drawer: 1. Skirt: 0. 

Kirsten:10 - Full refund.  Don't argue with me.

No comment - you know who you are.

Ceramic cheese knife vs. waste disposal

Does not double as eyelash curler.

The car is ruined.

Tossed phone onto the couch, bounced off 3 walls, hit a lamp and killed a small child

Bugger*

* Just kidding - he's not dead.

Beauty Tips for Hands

I invented something last night. It was pretty easy. I don't know why people make such a fuss about Einstein and the like, I just sat down and thought of it. Reminds me of the first time I played golf - don't know why people think Tiger's so great, it was easy. Take your stick out, hit a ball and get as many points as you can. I can get 100 points on 9 holes, no problem.

So here it is - for those of you that are getting a bit long in the tooth, a bit mutton dressed as lamb, a bit past your best, I have a useful beauty tip for your hands. As you age, your hands start to get more wrinkled and even though your face may look young, your hands can be a dead giveaway that quite frankly, you're old.

Luckily I have an easy solution that requires no purchase of expensive creams, no hand exercise machines, no hand make-up and no painful surgery. Simply curl your hand into a claw-like shape and watch the skin grow taught, eliminating all wrinkles. Continue to hold it like that forever.

Obviously there will be times when you forget but eventually you will adapt and be able to perform all your daily tasks with a claw-hand. Rest-assured no one will suspect your real age now. I cannot however, do anything for your ugly old face...although who knows what next great idea will drop into my head.  I'm very well-educated on stuff I make up.

Note the difference as you browse through your library - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Hand approve of the claw-hand. Also Harry Potter and Half-Blood Hand.  I can go on...

Cooking now looks more elegant and the claw-hand* provides excellent grippage which is most definitely a word.  Side note: A lot of people cry when they are cutting and cooking onions.  The trick is to not form an emotional bond.

Typing with an old wrinkled hand is so unappealing to your co-workers. Why not be productive and attractive?

As you can see typing with a claw-hand allows for an excellent command of the keyboard, with minimal errors and lovely line to the hand

Wrap your claw-hand around your fork and enjoy your meal knowing your hands look youthful

Watch how the cat recoils at the touch of the old, wrinkled hand

See how the cat thrives under the touch of the claw-hand

Update: Have just looked up claw-hand and found that it's also known as "Spinster's Claw" which is not at all where I wanted this to go. Disregard the above. 

*No hand models were hurt in the filming of this segment. They weren't paid either.

More Home Renovations and Good Parenting

I have a cat with one eye - Albert Nigel. He had two when I got him which is partially why I haven’t had kids. It’s frowned on when your children lose an eye although the SPCA probably doesn’t condone it in cats either. To be fair, it wasn’t my fault, I didn’t remove it, I just paid thousands to have it detached and sewn up. It was not really recoverable, last I saw of it, the iris was bulging out. But, it was on my watch so I’ve been trying to make up for it ever since.

Every time I move house, it’s all about the cat. Except this time. This time I just had to move and take what I could find. So, I told him he would be an indoor cat. He went outside to think it over. I told him to wink if he agreed. The move goes more or less as planned, I put in the litter box in my bathroom – 2 days later, I've decided he's going back to an indoor/outdoor cat. That litter shit (the litter, not the shit) is everywhere and I can’t get him to wipe his feet when he steps out. Also, it’s a little uncomfortable when we both have to go at the same time. Both of us look away and pretend it’s not happening. We just hum. Well, I hum. I don't know what he's doing. He's lucky, he can just put his eyeless side to me and genuinely not have to pretend to avoid eye contact.

With this new place, I have to find a new way for him to come and go and the only possible window is the kitchen one – it has a sash type window and I bought a cat window panel that fits across and has a flap that he can go in and out of. He has to jump up on the bar stool inside the kitchen and then go out the flap – unfortunately, it’s too high for him to jump up from the ground outside, unless he perfects the standing jump followed by dive roll and let’s face it, he only has one eye and couldn’t guarantee hitting the target every time. Would sound like a bird hitting the window over and over until he got it right and popped through the slot.

So, I called Wolfgang. Wolfgang is the neighborhood handy man – I gave him the bits of wood I had cut at Home Depot, the brackets and the screws so he could make a series of steps for Albert. Wolfgang had other ideas and made a ramp. Great! So now, Albert jumps up on the bar stool, goes out the window flap, ignores the ramp and jumps down to the bone-crunching concrete below. Walks it off and makes his way to the front of the apartment to hide in the bushes before making a wild dash to the next set of bushes in front of the next apartment block. Then he comes to the front door, crying to be let in. At first I thought he was just stupid and hadn’t figured out the ramp, especially when my neighbor said he saw him hanging from the screen outside one of my other windows and mewing to come in. Literally hanging - like he was velcroed on. More guilt heaped upon me – reinforcing the no children thing. You can’t push children out a small slot in the window, leave them out there to face traffic, dogs and raccoons, then demand that they scale a near vertical ramp to get back in. I mean I haven’t seen a handbook or anything but that just sounds wrong.

So when he comes to the front door, I take him round to the ramp and show him how to go up it and that’s when I realize that the poor bugger is sliding back down it and it’s too steep. Kind of why I wanted steps in the first place. And now in order not to hurt Wolfgang’s feelings, I have to take down the ramp in the dead of night and install the steps myself and honestly after the blind debacle, we all know it’s not going to go well. Will get bandaids. Do I need a special drill bit for concrete? Is my house even made of concrete? Will drill random trial hole on neighbors side and see what happens. Will get safety goggles. Also, what is a drill bit?

And then Wolfgang comes up with a better plan - steps on the ramp. And carpet. I'm skeptical but too lazy to do anything myself so I let him take a crack at it. And voila, custom cat ramp, complete with camo carpeting. Albert actually uses it, the neighbors have yet to hit it with their cars and I'm changing my decor to match the color palette.



Blog Earnings Update: Promise of $1NZ