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

       

MacMeow

        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. 

fuggedaboutit

       

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

Fibby!

clean sheets

the color yellow

(and green)

monkey bread

oreo milkshakes

cheese

velveeta

crab legs

crawfish

pizza

food in general...

vanilla scented candles

playing cards

keys

picnics

italian food

chinese food

blankets and sweaters

s'mores

cupcakes

lattes

beignets

hats

flower clips

the fair

bowling

scrabble

rollercoasters

halloween

bonfires

haunted houses

meteor showers

billiards

pet stores

astronomy

travel

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

whoppers

cookies & cream bars

strawberry crush

photo albums

home videos

America's funniest videos

my rainboots and umbrella

sudoku

newspapaper comics

french toast crunch (why this cereal was discontinued is beyond me)

oldies

The Sims

chivalry

        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. ♪