Monday, October 17, 2011

We are fat old farts.

        Fibby and I are getting some ever so attractive guts. I attribute this to the coming winter season, as my body is preparing to be in hibernation mode and pounding on the blubber to keep me warm. Which is totally necessary... because I live in Florida. It has nothing to do with my uncontrollable appetite for chocolate and cheese. No no no, absolutely not. Fibby's excuse is that she lives in a home where she is fed by three different people even though I have insisted time and time again that she does not in fact need a small portion of my dog's food every time he eats (not even including the dry food left out for him 24/7  that she also eats). even if she whines. Noone listens to me. So I just let her get tubby. She's kind of cute that way anyway.. as I've mentioned before, with her tiny little head. She's like a backward little bobble head doll.

except she doesn't hang out on my dashboard..

        While Fibby is doomed to be forever fat unless she gets some serious cardio into her daily activities list, I have the option to de-blubber myself simply by getting just a smidge more exercise. Enter, my bicycle. I have fallen head over heels in love with the damn thing. Riding here and there and to and fro and back and forth, and stopping at the gas station to get a save the boobies jone's soda (pink cream soda).

it even matches my pink bike

         I'm not going to go on about the sex life I now have with my bike, just thought I'd get the idea across. Anywho, today while I was riding I suddenly recalled that Fibby's birthday (or at least the approximate one I gave her) is on the 23rd of this month. My little baby Fibby is going to be 1! I've been wishing that Fibby could join me on my bike rides and so I thought it the perfect idea to buy her a little basket to do just that for her birthday. I found one on amazon that has a little sun shade and a harness to keep her safe in the basket. Not to mention is the thing fucking adorable.

some lady and her dog that fibby and I are cuter than.. just kidding ;)

        I really think that Fibby is going to have a grand ole' time in her basket. As in it's not one of those things that I'm just forcing her to do because it's cute. The basket isn't supposed to ship until sometime after the 25th but I figure that Fibby will live to get her bday present after the fact. Maybe I will just slap a party hat on her for the actual day to make her feel special... or royally pissed off. Either way, wouldn't that be so ca-uuuute?

By the way, I got a fish at the fair. His name is Dudley.

 (Mwahahah, so punny)

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

When it Rains it Pours (Screw You Hurricane Irene)

        Sometimes life makes you want to throw the nearest object as far and as forcefully as you possibly can... and sometimes you have to throw that object (whether it be a pillow, a chihuahua, or a furbie) before you suffer a minor aneurysm and/or your brain spontaneously combusts. Then it surprises you and makes you feel like you're on cloud 9 and ain't nobody's got it better than you, gurl. Other times it throws you a complete curve ball and you actually end up *gasp* learning something. Learning some morals might not be so out of the ordinary for most of you sane people, but I am extremely hard headed and the long, unbeaten path is quite familiar to me.

        This month has felt like the shits to me. It didn't help that mother nature is throwing a fit on the east coast of the U.S.A. (and cuba... sorry cuba. you always get fucked). It has been windy as all hell, causin' all sorts of trouble for people in this particular area. Aside from the forecast however, it genuinely seems as though everybody has had a horrible time getting through this month. Seriously, was it like a full moon or something or did everything terrible and annoying just happen at the same time? At one point I was feeling relatively positive before I smelt burnt rubber and saw a chunk of my tire fly off through my rearview mirror. I wanted so badly to pound my head into my scorching hot steering wheel. I lusted for sweet, sweet unconsciousness... but I am a grown-up and I do grown-up things like stay alive.
        Then there's always men issues...

         and work-related issues...

        that really aren't worth going into detail about because I'm at risk for winning the whiner of the year award. The general concept is that Amanda Panda had a rough couple of weeks. Then I met Melle Anne for an interview for the Gull's Cry (the school newspaper that I write for at GCSC). She is almost entirely blind due to a disease called psuedotumor cerebri. It put into perspective just how relevant my day to day problems are with the entirety of my life. I might want to punch my coworker in the face tonight but I highly doubt I'll be living with that issue for the rest of my life. What I couldn't get over was the fact that she told me she was actually extremely depressed before she went blind and afterward felt like she was ready to live live. As if the fact that she wasn't going to let being blind kick her in the ass wasn't enough she took it one step further and held hands with the concept. I'm not going to get into the topic of Melle Anne too much because that is what I wrote the stinkin' article for after all (which I will post on here if there is a demand)... I just wanted to highlight what I admire most about her out of all of it and how it has brightened my month. 

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

What's new, buckaroo?

        Lots of new things going on in this little world of mine. First and foremost, I quit my job at Mellow Mushroom. Why, you ask? I'll tell you why (or should I just leave that part out and continue on only to leave your mind infested with why I quit my job?). I quit for many reasons, the main one being that I didn't apply to be a stinkin' hostess, and I sure as shit didn't apply for the disrespect I endured for some unknown reason. So after being gone only a month, Pineapple Willy's sucked me back into it's vortex of friendly people and $$$.

There's no escaping the PW. You can enter but you can never leave. (like the hotel california).

        My best friend moved to Pittsburgh, which is a bagillion miles away from me, and it was one of the saddest goodbyes I've ever experienced. I'm going to visit her in December though; it will be the first time I've seen real snow since I was an itty bitty lil' thang. I'm excited to say the least, but it is still a bagillion years away. With my best friend being a bagillion miles and a bagillion years away, I might just go bananas. We're keeping our friendship flame alive with skype, texting, and our shared love of cats. 

Don't you love my cat doodle's noodle legs?

       I also recently started school for the first time as an official college student (though not the first time I've taken classes at the college here). I'm a wee 4 credits away from being a sophomore at GCSC. Woah-oh! But what I'm really super duper stoked about is my newspaper production class. I get to write articles for my school's newspaper, The Gull's Cry. How 'bout them apples? You can imagine with school on my agenda, that I have returned to my habit of taking daily naps. Now I just can't wait for the winter so that I can wake up from them, not drenched in sweat. 

Oh and I got a monroe at some point or another with my best before she left!

Thursday, August 4, 2011

I Love You, StumbleUpon

       In case you can't read that, which I don't blame you because not everbody has microscopic vision, it says, "The first cat in space was a french cat named Felicette (A.K.A. 'Astrocat'). In 1963, France blasted the cat into outer space. Electrodes implanted in her brains sent neurological signals back to Earth. She survived the trip. Along with a fit of giggles, I actually gained some knowlege by stumbling upon “17 Fun Cat Fats", which contained the image above. And just because I spent so much time on StumbleUpon tonight, I managed to find another gold nugget...

        I’m on a roll with these weird cat-related pictures.. but I can’t help it! You can put the blame on StumbleUpon for satisfying my cat loving needs. Anywho, this is an authentic vintage picture from 1903. If you look hard enough, or use your zoom, you can read the copyright on the picture though it’s pretty fuzzy. I’m tickled to imagine some other cat lady from the era that I personally feel I should’ve been born in anyway, dressing up her cat for a photoshoot (like I did earlier). “What’s delaying my dinner?” adds even more comical value to this image.  I like to think that Fibby would “say” something similar when I take too long with her kibble.. such as, “Where ma’ grub at, bitch?”. She’s a firecracker like her mother what can I say? Also here is a link to the page containing like 50 other "WTF (pictures) From the Past”.  They’re great. I hope you can enjoy these pictures/pages as much as I did and if you haven't already incorporated StumbleUpon into your life, I suggest you do so because it makes my funny bone twing on the regular... but that's just me 'cause I'm into that sort of thing. Maybe you're more of a serious guy or gal? No problemo! I'm sure there's a serious bone in your body that StumbleUpon is itching to.. go on a coffee break with? I don't know what serious bones do. Sorry. 

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Books of Adam

        I don't really have much to say in this blog post aside from just informing you guys of a particular post by Books of Adam that has a direct line to my funny bone! It is about his cats (go figure) and I'm pretty sure I catch myself reading it at least once a week. So go check it out! Two Stupid Cats. I could die at, "You have 20 seconds of petting time, savor it". Also the guy's pretty great with his words in all of his blog posts, not just that particular one. That one just happens to be my favorite! 

Not to mention am I a big fan of his animations.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Howdy Partner

        Metaphorically, Fibby and I are a tumbleweed in the desert that is the worldwide web and we just tumbled our way into the wild west civilization that symbolizes the website Tumblr. We're the new sheriffs 'round those parts and the spikes on our boots ain't just for looks. Here's the link, partner. 

        Speaking of felines in western wear, I am so beyond excited to see Puss in Boots (the movie). Yeehaw!

If only he could be a tubby tom like he was in Shrek Forever Afer. 

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Grasso Gatta

         That's italian for "fat cat", (or at least according to google translator). I speak for both Fibby and myself when I say that we've put on a few. I owe it all to the delicious food at Mellow Mushroom... and Fibby could do without having access to both her kitten chow and Brodi's dry food bowl.. as well as the surplus of treats my mother gives her in addition to the ones I give her on a regular basis (not to mention a spoonful of wet food here and there). I recently started getting into running to try and keep off the weight, which I knew was coming because italian food is my favorite. My hobby died very quickly. I only ran three times before I couldn't do it to myself anymore. Walking up the stairs like a gimp at mellow mushroom every night after my runs is what got me. Not only was it excruciatingly painful, but also excruciatingly embarrassing. I'm ashamed though that I gave up so quickly because now I desperately need a new workout regimen ASAP before I start resembling Peter Griffin in a g-string.

and that is not fat with a "ph"

        In Fibby's case, she might not be so unfortunate to be a little on the obese side if it weren't for the the ridiculously unproportional size of her head compared to her body. It's like somebody photoshopped my cat in real life.

I at least hope this woman's head was photoshopped.

        Her gut is already hanging out of her new dress that I got her THE OTHER DAY. She is of course, still beautiful and adorable to me but as her mother I can' t help but notice the effects of her eating habits.. so I've just been trying to hardcore intensively play with her (which is basically just batting a shoe string around for an hour). As for me, I suppose I'll try to either work on my diet or perhaps pick running back up... even if it makes me feel like I should just rip my lungs out and beat them against the ground right then and there. 

this expresses the way I feel about running perfectly.. and the love doesn't come in until I'm walking inbetween intervals of death. 

       I honestly don't believe that anyone genuinely likes running. It's all a big lie. Deep down everyone is thinking "Why the hell am I torturing myself?" with every pace. There is just no way. I recall pondering what I would do if I had to face the ultimatum of running for an hour, an HOUR, to save my first born child's life or something... which now that I think about it an hour of pain is nothing compared to something so important but as I was running my 2 minute intervals I thought the agony would strike me dead before it mattered anyway. 

I'm typically the kind of person that completely overreacts in times of suffering though

Saturday, July 23, 2011


        Greetings my people, I am currently typing to you via my new macbook pro. It's dreamy... like a spaceship throwing up glitter. I have been patiently waiting for the day it would arrive on my doorstep for some time now (it was supposed to be my graduation present two months ago and my mom and I share our procrastinating gene) but earlier this evening the day finally came. Then I had to hurry up and go to work basically as soon as I signed my name and snatched it out of the postman's arms (I closed the door without even realizing he was trying to hand me the printer I ordered with it also). Before I could even lay one crawly finger on the sleek, handled box, I was throwing on a Pineapple Willy's t-shirt and had to hurdle myself out the door. It was worth it though to wait until I got home so I could savor the smell of freshly manufactured metal, glass, and plastic as I lifted my glorified piece of machinery out of its wrappings. As is obvious at this point, I'm pretty happy with my lappy. 

here is a happy apple to demonstrate myself.

        Moving on, tonight was my last night at Pineapple Willy's. It was briefly melancholy clocking out. I managed to escape without getting pied in the face, which is standard protocol for such events and that is a-ok with me. I had already gotten brutally attacked with whipped cream and pickles three times this week prior to tonight.

evil pickle

        In case you are beginning to wonder whether Fibby has bit the dust and I'm just covering it up by revolving all of my recent blog post around myself and various crapola, she is purrfectly fine. Although she is getting a little peeved as of late since she has been a prisoner of my room for the past two days. My aunt, whom is deathly allergic to cats, is in town. l treated her for her patience and good behavior in light of unfortunate circumstances with a cute dress... and plenty of "Sweet Temptations" cat treats. 

cutie patootie

        I wasn't sure at first about whether to get the dress for her or not because I didn't want to be one of those asshole cat ladies that forces her cat to wear ridiculous outfits that make them miserable... but I have to admit at some point or another that I have evolved into a crazy cat lady and it was just so utterly adorable. I was planning on putting it on and seeing if she was pissed or not and then deciding whether or not to return it and to my amazement and delight, it had literally no effect on her. She was not even fazed by the process of putting it on which is weird because Fibby is not the kind of cat who typically is chill... about anything. She normally reacts to every aspect of life as if her dying day were seconds away and she snitched on the kitty mafia or something. So that's good news. 


Friday, July 15, 2011

Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens

        ♪ Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens. Brown paper packages tied up with strings. These are a few of my favorite things. ♫

        Aside from whiskers on kittens, I do not truly feel that those are my favorite things, but I was thinking about the things that do fall into that category when I layed down in my fluffy, freshly laundered bed. So I thought I'd try and make a list of everything I could think of that makes me feel all fuzzy inside.

This is what I came up with

clean sheets
the color yellow
(and green)
monkey bread
oreo milkshakes
crab legs
food in general...
vanilla scented candles
playing cards
italian food
chinese food
blankets and sweaters
flower clips
the fair
haunted houses
meteor showers
pet stores
ridiculous sunglasses
cream soda
root beer
movie nights
Ratchet & Clank
strawberries & cream frappucinos (with extra whipped cream)
being corny and romantic
buffalo ranch chicken wraps
indie films
indie music
Zooey Deschanel
fortune cookies
photo booth pictures
turbie twisters
my beach umbrella and boombox
antique stores
my bunny slippers
my cheetah print belt
cookies & cream bars
strawberry crush
photo albums
home videos
America's funniest videos
my rainboots and umbrella
newspapaper comics
french toast crunch (why this cereal was discontinued is beyond me)
The Sims

        I'm beginning to realize that this list could go on for quite some time... but here are a few of my favorite things. They are in no specific order. In fact there were a couple of times when I considered moving certain things farther up on the list to get the point across that they're more important than other things. Then I realized it would take forever to rearrange everything in that order and to be frank, I'm a little too lazy for that bullhonkey.

When the dog bites; when the bee stings; when I'm feeling sad; I simply remember my favorite things and then I don't feel... so bad. ♪

Sunday, June 26, 2011


        Fibbysniffpoo... is my username for pretty much everything that I need a username for modern enough for Fibby to have been in my life when I created it (e.g. ps3 network, word feud, etc.). I almost forgot how I came up with such a witty username until Fibby lost her collar for a couple of days. You see, on the back of Fibby's tag on her collar I had gotten enscribed, "AM I LOST? :( CALL MOM! 000-000-0000) except my number isn't entirely made up of zeros as cool as that would be. The point is that I couldn't find her collar anywhere and it dawned on me what would happen if Fibby got lost without her collar or if she had gotten lost with her collar and then somehow lost it again like she managed to do every few weeks. Then I looked at her face. She's got to be the only cat I've ever seen that has half a hitler stash/ poo stain underneath her nose. So duh, I would just have to post a bunch of flyers bearing the message, "BROWN-NOSING CAT DOES NOT ACTUALLY KISS ASS, PLEASE RETURN TO OWNER 000-000-0000" and that would be that.

    Interesting Photographs of the Week

 visiting Aunt Hay Hay

heart-shaped.. everything! 

speaks for itself... thanks to my "little photo" app with the instant film setting  

just another key for my collection 

stealthmaster just before the peak of her attack 

My darling pride and joy

        By the way, feel free to play word feud with me since you all know my username now, but be prepared; most of my opponents resign when they realize the level of skill I have at that game. ;) Now I am off to go have a mini reunion lunch with a bunch of kids I used to pick my boogers with. I shall contain details of my blast from the past in a consecutive post.

Monday, June 13, 2011

Fibby slays evil supervillain, Dr. Possum.

        I'm pretty sure I've mentioned that I think my cat is a superhero, right? Well, guess which super-feline saved her first damsel in distress last night. That's right, if it weren't for Fibby I'd be possum-chow. I get home (rather late, mind you. so I contemplate passing out instantly on my bed), brush my teeth and wash my face, put my jammies on, and curl up in bed. All is going well, just watching some toons and playing with my new phone.. and I keep hearing rustling noises coming from beside my bed. I look over, and see Fibby sniffing at my trash can. I just assume she's trying to eat paper out of it or something silly. So I just say, "Hey you crazy cat, leave my trash alone. Now get on out of here 'fore I call the popo", (except it was more along the lines of "Fibby, stop"). Anyway, she keeps sniffing at my trash can so I finally get up to go look at it. I pulled back a magazine from on top and instantly see a little bug-eyed, ratty face hissing at me. You can imagine my reaction. I am lucky that my already weak bladder (I nearly pee every time I laugh too hard) didn't give out on me and that my initial thought to scream bloody murder did not completely process before I realized that screaming would probably launch the creature into an attack. on my face. Instead I just walked out of my room... then turned around and grabbed fibby and then walked out of my room again. I ended up getting my pops to take care of the situation. He trapped it with the trash can and an old 35 gallon cat-litter container, which we have lots of, 'cause Fibby loves pooping and my mother loves collecting giant cat-litter containers.. I guess. Long story short, Fibby saved the day and now there's one less evil possum terrorizing the house. In case you haven't put two and two together from older posts about the doggie door issues we went through with Fibby and my dog, Brodi, we're assuming the rodent got in through there. The door hadn't been open all day though which can only mean one thing.. the possum had been relaxing in the comfort of our home for at least 24 hours devising his plan to take over our household. But not on Fibbys watch! No siree, bob. Honestly, I'm just happy that I didn't fall asleep with the possum locked in my room with Fibby and myself because I'm pretty sure it would have kicked her ass.. and my face's.. ass?
       I kind of view the possum ordeal as just the cherry on top that made me laugh at all of all the curve-balls life's been throwing at me for the past couple days. In less than 48 hours I managed to wash my phone and break the window in my car. On the bright side, I got a shiny new phone and my window might finally work properly after the beast gets out of the shop. Not to mention does my shiny new phone have a better camera/effects which means better pictures to share with you guys! ('cause we all know I'm too lazy to ever use my actual camera). 

Playing with the lomography settings on my adorable, sleeping test subject. 

this effect is ironically called "hard day". 

    trying to show you guys my wwf shirt that my sister got me for my birthday!

        Speaking of my birthday, I never spoke of my birthday. It was on June 8th and I'm now an 18 year-old lady. I had a blasty blast and I kissed a moose and a butt at mcguires while a man sang at me directing me to do so.

"Kiss the moose, kiss the moose, kiss the moose!"

"Kiss the butt, kiss the butt, kiss the butt!"

        Needless to say, it was a pretty great birthday... followed by a not-so-great week, but hey, Fibby and I are still smiling. So all is well, as long as there aren't any more possum incidents because I don't think my heart can handle that again... unless the possum was declawed/de-fanged and covered in glitter or something.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

I'm a big cat now

        My darling Fibby is practically all grown up now. Where did all the time go? Sigh.. I know she's not even a year old yet and is technically still a kitten but she seems to be almost fully grown by now, not to mention is she Miss Independent these days. The only time I ever get to snuggle her is when I get home from work.. and that's only if I can catch her and also only because I do that everyday so by now it's habitual to her. I might get lucky every now and then when she's groggy after her naps but that's a gray area as far as snuggling goes for sure. This entire past month has really been a wake-up call.. which is why I haven't been posting as frequently as usual (and I sincerely apologize a thousand times but a girl's gotta get her priorities straight and I didn't even take a shower for three days straight at one point in the past 13 since my last post. Hygiene is one of those that simply have to come first) . Fibby's not the only one that's growing up. I keep expecting to wake up and feel like I actually am done with the high school chapter of my life and it has yet to come.

 You'd think the cap and gown would've done the trick.

         I feel like it might be partially due to the fact that I was hardly at school ever since the last half of my junior year thanks to all the periods of co-op and lazy teachers that never cared if I was tardy or even attended class. However, even though I still don't have whatever feeling it is that usually accompanies graduating, I do feel the real world taking me into its not-so-comforting arms. Work, work, work, broken hearts, and that big nagging question mark over my head asking me what I'm going to be doing with the rest of my life, and more work. 

for a lack of better words..

        Stress. Honestly, the only reason this picture appealed to me when I googled "stress" to find a relative picture to throw in there is because it's a frazzled kitty for Christ's sake... but when I saw the word underneath it (even though I searched google images for the very word), I thought.. "Why would I want to be stressed out about life right now? Isn't this supposed to be a fun, happy period of freedom from.. stress?". So I've decided that shall be my new mentality. My darling friend sent me a picture earlier that expresses this new resolution of mine perfectly. 

So, I too, shall not give a fuck.

        Fibby and I, from now on, do not give two fucks (one allotted to each that we both do not give).. and while we are so busy not giving fucks we will be having lots of fun. 'Cause at this point, that's what life's all about. 


Thursday, May 19, 2011

Fibby is now a stealthmaster

        As of last night, I'm officially a high school graduate! And aside from my new macbook pro being ordered, my own star in the universe (yes, really), a beautiful necklace, and other fantastic gifts from various important people in my life, I got one more gift today: my cat finally came home. I had some family in town for the big day and my godmother is deathly allergic to cats, so Fibby simply could not stay at the house with me. Since my sister owed me for watching her evil cats, it only made sense if I just left Fibby there once she got back in town and passed her the burden of caring for all three of them as I did. It was the first time I have ever spent a night without Fibby. I have ditched out on parties early just to go home and hang out with Fibby, 'cause I am that much of a loser (but in my eyes, I just love her that much). The point is, for the past three days I felt like I had no soul and my sister only made it worse by declaring how much fun Fibby was having with her and that her and the other cats are getting along now so she'd never want to leave. Now that Fibby is back, though, I know my sister was full of lies because she was thrilled to see me and her new kitty kube that I got to bribe her into loving me again after leaving her... That last part is unimportant.

Aw yeah, son!

        Even though she adores the kitty kube, it is apparently not her favorite hang-out at my house, catnip or no catnip. I don't know when or if I would have ever found this out if my feet hadn't gotten cold. I went into my room to get some socks and when I pulled out the drawer, I saw pretty much the last thing I was expecting. Whaddaya' know, Fibby had gotten perfectly cozy with my socks and bras... and managed to "knock my socks off" (though I wasn't wearing any yet) while she was at it. She is so good at scaring me that she scares me when she's not even attempting to scare me and ends up scaring herself too because I'm sure she wasn't expecting me to find her in her cat-version of a military bunker, completely unguarded, while she was sleeping.

The jig is up.
        She used to hang out underneath my dresser as a wee little baby, so I am assuming that she wandered under there today and with her older, slightly more intelligent brain realized that she could climb up my drawers and slide into the one to her liking.. depending on her mood, of course. Thursday, it's socks and bras; Friday, it could be pajamas and t-shirts. I don't know; I'm not a cat whisperer. I can only assume that Holly's cats are to blame for Fibby's newly surfaced stealth ninja skills, considering the fact that they too, are stealth ninjas, if you recall from my last blog post their secret spot in the trundle bed: Fibby finds feline friendship?.  Honestly, I'm kind of jealous of cats in the sense that they can fit in these places. I wish I could snuggle with giant fuzzy socks that were proportionaly to my theoretical, fibby-sized body and in a dark place where no-one would ever think to find me. One can dream and in the meantime, I'll just search through all of my drawers until I find my toasty cat fresh out of the dresser-oven and cuddle with her.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Fibby finds feline friendship?

        As of yesterday evening, I am house/cat-sitting for my sister. She has two cats, Tiger and Rosca, who both hate Fibby and myself. The first day went smoothly.. and by smoothly I mean horriffic. When the hissing finally winded down and I was at least sure the cats weren't about to throw up their separate gang signs and have a blood bath, I sat down and watched Knocked Up. After the movie ended I noticed that it was quiet... too quiet. I could find Fibby because she hadn't yet gotten used to the apartment and remained hiding in the same spot for four hours, but Tiger and Rosca had disappeared out of thin air. After calmy combing through every possible hiding spot (or so I thought) in the entire apartment, I grew frantic. I started running from room to room just to make sure they truly weren't in the apartment anymore. I realized I had opened the door once, to get Fibby's litterbox out of my car (I figured they wouldn't be to happy sharing theirs with some random new cat) and the thought popped into my head; the ninja cats got out, and it's been approximately two hours that I haven't noticed. So I ran out into the lovely 90 degree weather we were having here in PCB to look for them. I couldn't really decide what to do when I got downstairs because they could have gotten anywhere in two hours and I wasn't sure if they had really gotten out, so I kept going back upstairs to look again then back downstairs when I still couldn't find them. My sister lives on the third floor of a building that doesn't have elevators. I ran up and down those stairs at least seven times. Then, an hour and a half later when I was thoroughly drenched in sweat, blood, and tears I decided to get my keys and drive through the complex. This is when I decided it would be best for me to call my sister to tell her that I had failed at the simple task she had given me to feed her cats every now and then and I had lost them. So I called her and said, "Hey you... so, uh, is there anywhere your cats, uh, hide, like really well?" to which she replied, "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, they like to hide inbetween the two mattresses of the trundle bed". Sho'nuff when I got back to the apartment, the nincompoops were exactly where she said they often were.

 a seemingly ordinary day bed.. gone sneaky trundle.

 This tubby tom is Tiger.

And this is Rosca. She's about the same age as Fibby, though they still hate eachother.

        I guess the moral of the story is that instead of getting myself in a tizzy when something seems to be going wrong, I should breathe a little. I had to go to work pretty much immediately after I found Tiger and Rosca because I had spent so much time looking for their furry behinds and didnt have much time to get Fibby situated. I spent pretty much all day at work envisioning her getting a deluxe, two-against-one ass-whooping from Tiger and Rosca.. but when I got home she was fine, just hanging out on Tiger and Rosca's kitty condo which she loves and makes me eager to get her one for her very own.

        Tiger and Rosca had unsurprisingly returned to their lair between the mattresses of the trundle bed. I went and saw Bridesmaids which was hilarious thanks to Kristen Wiig and Krista Rudolph and came straight home after that again (because I'm a grandma). Still, Tiger and Rosca were in their lair. I took a shower and just when I had laid down in bed with my hair wrapped up in a towel I heard something fall.. though I didn't really think anything of it, just kinda' figured it was one of the cats knocking something over for shits and giggles. Then I heard a lot of things fall, very suddenly, loud enough to make me believe, for a moment at least, that Al Quaeda had chosen my sister's bathroom to unleash their wrath for the death of their leader by means of nuclear bombs. Very slowly, I crept into the bathroom to see just what in tarnation was going on. The damn shower caddy fell over, along with and thanks to my sister's extensive collection of shampoos. Upon discovering the wreckage of toilettries, I realized that I had enough rises in my anxiety for the day and turned around to pass out in the cloud made out of "NASA's space-age, visco-elastic memory foam".

All hail Tempur-Pedic.

        Today hasn't been quite as exciting, though I did spend some quality time making monkey bread with the kitties when I got home from work. It was fantastic.

come to momma!

        If you'd like to try out the recipe, it's right here: Monkey Bread. I personally prefer to leave out the walnuts and raisins, but I'm sure that would be rather scrumptious.. if you're into that sort of thing. Also, I use four cans of the cheapo small cans of biscuits instead of two cans of the pillsbury homestyle-whatever that the recipe recommends to get your moneys. Don't know if that makes much of a difference (in taste or in finances) but really the only reason I went by this recipe is because I couldn't find the one I had written down years and years ago from my elementary school best friend's momma.. and I just remembered the biscuits she used. I ate a whole plate of this stuff.. couldn't help myself. I'm cat-sitting for two more nights so I'll let you guys know if the cats come out of hiding to give me a chance or if some other fiasco goes down. Bye-bye and good night!

Sunday, May 8, 2011

My first mother's day!

        It dawned on me today in the produce section at Walmart that perhaps I deserve some flowers this Mother's day also along with you people that birthed human children. Fibby might not have 46 chromosomes, but she certainly is an expensive handful... and her outbursts are more painful than even the screeches of the most awry babies thanks to the talons that the Lord allotted her along with her 38 chromosomes. I'm not trying to complain about my new motherly duties by any means, don't get me wrong. In fact, I accept them full-heartedly . Besides, it's not like I had to produce milk and have her latch on to my nozzles with her splintery fangs. No, I entered into the joys of motherhood when the true torture of the job was done and over with. All I have to do now is handle cat excrement a lot more frequently than ever before and you know.. feed her, bathe her, take her to the vet, give her medicine, love on her, play even when I'm exhausted, and the worst that's come yet: force her to wear a cone that I know makes her miserable but is for her own good.. even if it breaks my wimpy heart. Before I put myself on a pedestal, I'm going to end this short blog post. Just wanted to inform you all of my celebratory spirits this Mother's Day and also I'd like to wish a happy one to the truly worthy recipients of appraisal this fine day (even if it is a bit late in the day) because I know it's probably a lot harder than caring for Fibby. Also, if anyone would like to give me a card or flowers that would be perfectly fine as well. ;)

Monday, May 2, 2011

Introducing Conehead

         My cat looks like a spaceship. No really.

        So Fibby's spay went well other than the fact that she apparrently was in heat when I brought her in for her surgery which led to additional charges.. le sigh. Those veterinarians; they pocket your money faster than you can "meow?". That explains why she's been extra affectionate lately though. She's been all up in my grill like a monkey to a guy in a banana suit. I just made up that expression.. if you didn't notice. Anyway, twelve hours later I went to pick up Fibbs to find out that she has to wear a cone on her head for seven to ten days so she doesn't chew out her stitches (I thought the lady said 17 at first and almost screamed). She got the torture device off about 20 minutes after we got home of course since she takes after her houdini mother (the three-year-old me once had to be put in a straight jacket to have my stomach pumped after downing a bottle of cough syrup.. and still managed to get the tube out of my throat). I tightened it though and she hasn't magic'd  herself out of it yet, though she did manage to get through the doggie door with it on and that truly bewilders me... I know the thing is bendy but not really and honestly, she can hardly walk with the thing on much less maneuver herself through a doggie door with a width that is shorter than the diameter of the cone. I mean, what did she do; walk through it backwards with enough force to cause the fairly rigid cone to fold in on itself? I just imagine the twilight zone theme song.

doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo

        Either that or she is wondercat. I wouldn't be that surprised. She is wonderful. She is a cat.

which makes her wondercat.

        I don't know about the rest of you guys, but I have fallen head over heels for those face-in-the-holes. They are simply fantastic and crack me up. I don't know how Fibby feels about them because she is passed out. Her three medicines (which you all should know do not make for the most pleasurable experience to give her) make her loopy as hell and all she's been doing is sleeping, being hyper for ten minutes, and then sleeping some more. I don't mind too much because I am a big fan of ze cat naps myself (as you already know).

        Speaking of naps,  I missed mine today.. so this g-maw and her conehead kitty are tuckered out and we are gonna' hit the hay. I have no idea how Fibby sleeps with that contraption on her head but I suppose pain and uncomfort do not phase her hardcore self. Goodnight!

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