Archive for May, 2012


I know, I know. Radio silent for WEEKS and then two posts in the same one? I guess sometimes my life decides to participate in my desire to tell the world about it…

So I guess this story needs to be prefaced by the fact that a couple months ago, Mischief (see Operation: Kitty No Poo) was eaten by a coyote. Yea. A fucking coyote. This shit happens in the desert. In fact it’s happened to our family three times now, because there’s two coyotes roaming our middle class neighbourhoods (note: developed land, cars and cul-de-sacs do not scare off wild coyotes. They apparently see it as like a fucked up obstacle course to get to their dinner) and so we mourned for about a month before I decided I needed the companionship that comes with a cat again and I had finally accepted the fact that Mau wasn’t coming back.

So my mum and I went cat shopping after Big A little a’s bridal shower (and sometime soon I’ll have to talk about her wedding, but that’s for when life ISN’T participating!) and we found two cats at the humane society but they wouldn’t let us take them home because we said we had a doggie door/cat flap and that our last two cats had disappeared. Apparently the people at the humane society thought we were sacrificing cats to the damn coyotes, which is a fucking shame because one of the cats was named Monkey.

Yea. Monkey.

FUCKING MONKEY.

Side note for those that don’t know me that well, I LOVE MONKEYS. I have forever, and I have no clue why, but when I can’t think of a word and everyone would normally say “You know that…that thing” (or in Hawai’i “dakine”) I say ‘monkey’. So if I can’t remember where I put something I say “I put it with the monkey, it’s fine mum” and then she gets pissed at me, probably because she thinks the monkey is pooing all over it and she’ll get monkey pink eye. Not to worry mum, it’s a hypothetical monkey, and it’s very well behaved. Breathe.

Whoa sidetracked.

So we had to forfeit Monkey and a little male kitten I was considering renaming ‘The Doctor’.  So I basically begged mum to take me to some other places, and we went to two Petsmarts but they didn’t have anything but long hairs and I have to have a short hair because of my allergies. I begged her to stop at one more, the one on the way home, just to give it one more chance (even though I knew we were in a rush because we were going to a roller derby that night).

And that’s where we found her. A little kitten with diamond shaped stripes and little tufts on top of her ears that make them look pointed (my mother says she looks like a Lynx – I halfway agree). She looked at me, and I knew I had to have her, cause with some animals you just know. I knew with Mischief, I knew with Pepsi, I knew with Evidence and now I knew with her. We did a little fudging of the truth (the cats didn’t disappear, they died of natural causes, cause what’s more natural than the damn food chain? Nothing motherfucker, that’s what) and the rep started filling out the paperwork.

All the paperwork said her name was Mimi, but when he showed me her “birthdate” I knew I would be changing it. See…my cat was born on 11/17/2014. Yea that’s right my kitten is a damn Time Lady. In fact, she is Lady President Romana(dvoratrelundar) of Gallifrey (Romana is all that fit on the collar tag though. BOO). So yea, my cat kicks ass.

And she has some interesting quirks, which would be a little long to detail considering I only wrote all that above to tell you about what she did yesterday.

Romana punched me in the eye.

I got punched in the eye by a kitten.

What.

The.

Fuck.

How do you live when a kitten’s gotten one up on you? I was sleeping, and I felt her staring and I opened my eyes a couple times, and then SHE PUNCHED ME!!!!!! I’m considering taking away Doctor Who viewing rights as punishment, cause really? What was so important that she needed to PUNCH me awake? And why didn’t she strike me again when I turned over and went back to sleep until my alarm went off?

But seriously I love that damn cat, so I’m putting up with the punching and biting. Because there’s nothing more fucking awesome than a cat that insists on watching TV with you.

-Renee

PS, today I heard someone say “I’m building a fort of marijuana”. I’m thinking I need to start including a daily “Weird shit I heard today” quote just to make myself feel better about half the stuff that comes out of my mouth. Thoughts?

The following is a conversation I just had with my father (my mother was also present)

Me: I’m stealing Otter Pops, deal with it!

Mum: You helped find them, go for it! We had to walk all over, mumble blah blah blah

Me: That’s right! I did all the work (/sarcasm, cause I’m pretty sure I helped none whatsoever in locating the Otter Pops in the hell hole that is Costco cause I was busy trying not to hurt people)

Dad: Ha! If you did all the work around here I’d grumble mumble blah blah mumble mumble

Me: *Deadpan* I’d be more insulted if you weren’t mumbling

 

He tried to make some sort of comeback but failed miserably due to the fact that I went upstairs to eat my Otter Pops in peace.

 

SO!

Hi. I’ve been hiding a bit. Let’s call it stress. I got a little focused on trying to make you guys (hello 5 people!) laugh and forgot that I really started this blog to just vent or talk or whatever. There was no purpose, let’s be honest, but it’s purposelessness was meant for me. So I’ve been taking some time to gather my life, and I was ready to post a couple weeks ago buuuuuuut my computer was possessed and I only just got it working again. Fucking Best Buy. Fuckers.

Total side track, I just checked my search engine terms (I blame The Bloggess for this habit) and someone found this blog by searching for “I found my mother fucking my brother”. I am officially concerned. I have no words. Except I’m not going to try to find out how many pages back I was, cause I just got my computer working and it doesn’t need a damn PORN VIRUS (I’m sure that’ll bring in a couple more hits!) right now THANKYOUVERYMUCH!

So the truth is that I took a stress management class through my work, mostly to help me balance baton and work and buying this damn house, and what I got out of it was that I was letting blogging stress me out too and that I needed to start doing it again, but as a stress RELIEVER and not CAUSER. Or a cause. That was a poorly constructed sentence.

Oh well.

I’m pretty sure that’s not what the City was looking for when they paid for the class, but Fuck It I Don’t Care.

So yes, I’m not dead, nor is my ADD (ADHD? The doctor says it might be. HAHAHAHA Awesome) so expect more from me soon.

My apologies. Take that as you wish.

-Renee