I know, I know, it's boring. But, it's my blog and if I want to wax bitchetic about Merv's ears I shall.
#1 Don't buy expensiver Elizabethan collars, just because they're sold by a "natural" place and they look pretty. They're fabric and hot and cause the same irritation as the original problem.
#2 Hopefully, the $9 clear plastic collar from Petsmart will do the job that all of the other bullshit we've been through to get Merv to have ears that are not reminiscent of freshly ground hamburger meat.
Plus, he has to stop fighting with the total and complete asshole neighbor cat, the wuss, a big fuzzy gray monster that is psychopathic. Amazing how ears can be scraped raw again.
However, I give kudos to Merv for his Ninja skills in sliding under that fatass cat and causing some damage of his own. He just leaps and slithers. It's cool. If it weren't so violently counterproductive.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Peace and happiness
This is just a recognition of a very pleasant and heartening structure in our back yard.
A couple of months ago we had a large old tree removed that was actually growing horizontally and hovered over the path in the backyard. It was a perfect perch for Merv whilst he avoided Dot or when he wanted to scout out appropriate prey. It also was the tree that prevented a huge pine from plunking through our roof during Ike. So, it was a good and well loved tree. Just in the way.
I know, I know, that could be a metaphor about us aging baby boomers and our elderly parents.
But, it ain't.
So, anyway. With that tree being gone we can now see the two trees that had hidden sort of behind it. One is a medium thin trunked something something, with bark that is just drab gray barky color.
The other tree, which is completely intertwined with drabby barky guy, is a darker, slim something something.
They have completely embraced and grow around/hug one another.
Plus, there is a dove's nest in one of them. With a baby dove, who lives in that nest, that's been pittering and pecking on the path.
I think this is an omen of some sort and a good one.
A couple of months ago we had a large old tree removed that was actually growing horizontally and hovered over the path in the backyard. It was a perfect perch for Merv whilst he avoided Dot or when he wanted to scout out appropriate prey. It also was the tree that prevented a huge pine from plunking through our roof during Ike. So, it was a good and well loved tree. Just in the way.
I know, I know, that could be a metaphor about us aging baby boomers and our elderly parents.
But, it ain't.
So, anyway. With that tree being gone we can now see the two trees that had hidden sort of behind it. One is a medium thin trunked something something, with bark that is just drab gray barky color.
The other tree, which is completely intertwined with drabby barky guy, is a darker, slim something something.
They have completely embraced and grow around/hug one another.
Plus, there is a dove's nest in one of them. With a baby dove, who lives in that nest, that's been pittering and pecking on the path.
I think this is an omen of some sort and a good one.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Playing with meat
Imagine, if you will, a bucolic and pastoral landscape, with birdies chirping, cicadas clicking and you're traipsing down the pathway. As you traipse you're whistling a tune, perhaps Rhapsody in Blue, while trying to figure out how to perform a glissando with your right foot. Without hitting the concrete that has buckled, but be that as it may.
You're idyllically and existentially engulfed in warmth and sparkling sunspots on leaves, soothing zephyrs caress your arms.
When out of the sky drops a filet/scallop/hatch pepper shish kabob hanging on a string!
You're hungry. You haven't eaten breakfast. This is awesome!
So, you latch onto it with your mouth and are promptly hoisted up into the sky with a hook engaged in your right lip and part of your nostril and you're all WTF?
Thus is the life of the catfish, bass, sunfish and turtle that we caught on Saturday.
It was a HAUL!!! Even though we threw them all back. I wonder what they think when they're suddenly hanging in the air, bumping against the bulkhead with some jackass trying to remove a triple hook from your mouth without killing you and then deciding to just cut the line because you swallowed it.
See, I would have at least nibbled part of the shish kabob before bleeding to death.
Although they all did, indeed, get all the chicken liver bait before release. But that's not kabob.
Eleven catfish, two bass, one sunfish and a turtle. All freed to roam again and to grab another delicacy thrown in front of them.
Greed, I tell ya.
You're idyllically and existentially engulfed in warmth and sparkling sunspots on leaves, soothing zephyrs caress your arms.
When out of the sky drops a filet/scallop/hatch pepper shish kabob hanging on a string!
You're hungry. You haven't eaten breakfast. This is awesome!
So, you latch onto it with your mouth and are promptly hoisted up into the sky with a hook engaged in your right lip and part of your nostril and you're all WTF?
Thus is the life of the catfish, bass, sunfish and turtle that we caught on Saturday.
It was a HAUL!!! Even though we threw them all back. I wonder what they think when they're suddenly hanging in the air, bumping against the bulkhead with some jackass trying to remove a triple hook from your mouth without killing you and then deciding to just cut the line because you swallowed it.
See, I would have at least nibbled part of the shish kabob before bleeding to death.
Although they all did, indeed, get all the chicken liver bait before release. But that's not kabob.
Eleven catfish, two bass, one sunfish and a turtle. All freed to roam again and to grab another delicacy thrown in front of them.
Greed, I tell ya.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Skeeter sumbitches
Poor beset and besad Merv. Sweet baby puzz. Merv has acute ear assailitis (that should be a word and it should apply to being assailed OR your ass, whichever is appropriate) caused by nonstop mosquito bites. These bites, which seriously have been going on for months, now, are immune to Neosporin, Cortizone D and VIP mosquito repellent, and cause him to constantly scratch at his ears.
Which causes me to catch him every single day to douse him with medicine and so now he’s a total paranoid wreck, fully expecting all food/treats to equate to ear goop. Food-ear goop. Food-ear goop.
The other night I was lying in bed reading, with Merv next to me, and the light SHONE THROUGH HIS EARS. That’s how paper thin they’ve become. I’m not talking about the usual translucency of kitteh’s ears, I’m talking about a thin layer of reddish skin/membrane/bumps/patheticism that shocked me. It has to be painful and aggravating, because think how it feels to have a constant itch. Constant.
SO-Tuesday I went and got him an e-collar. Lemme tell ya-Elizabethan collars have improved since back in the day. I bought Merv a microfiber/Velcro collar that is just his size-not one of those overgrown plastic lampshade thingies. It’s quite cunning in that you thread the cat’s own collar through loops at the base of the cone doohickey so they can’t pull it off. Quite cunning.
But, so sad. As soon as I got it fastened around Merv’s neck he proceeded to weave like Stevie Wonder in horror and was just aghast that I’d attached some weird ass monstrosity to his head, a monstrosity that obliterated his cat whisker ability to navigate safely around objects or walls. Yesterday morning I noticed where he’d tried to eat out of his bowl, which we keep on top of a small bar area. Cat food was scattered all along the flashing under the window and had piled in the corner next to the empty bowl. That is ridiculously lame. Have you ever tried to bob for apples with a bucket on your head?
At lunch I loosened the Velcro and held it away from Merv’s face so he could eat and drink water. As he drank water while I was bent over with my hand on one knee and the other holding the collar sideways I thought perhaps he was jacking with me a bit, because he drank water for a long, long, long time. A long time. Long long time.
After work I thought, wow, his ears are shaping up a bit, even in a day! Let’s see how he does for a few minutes with the collar off! Cat-quite cunning, just like the collar.
Five minutes later I found him under the bed with bleeding ears. A whole day of effort shot to hell because he’d looked at me with liquid, imploring, catbaby eyes. Back on it went and last night he slept on me pretty much the whole night, purring away while I scratched his neck and tried to make him feel less like a freak while he bumped me with the edge of the collar each time I turned over.
After the initial intrigue of “OOH! A new cat head! Let’s play!” from Dot, even she is sympathetically moping with Merv.
Which causes me to catch him every single day to douse him with medicine and so now he’s a total paranoid wreck, fully expecting all food/treats to equate to ear goop. Food-ear goop. Food-ear goop.
The other night I was lying in bed reading, with Merv next to me, and the light SHONE THROUGH HIS EARS. That’s how paper thin they’ve become. I’m not talking about the usual translucency of kitteh’s ears, I’m talking about a thin layer of reddish skin/membrane/bumps/patheticism that shocked me. It has to be painful and aggravating, because think how it feels to have a constant itch. Constant.
SO-Tuesday I went and got him an e-collar. Lemme tell ya-Elizabethan collars have improved since back in the day. I bought Merv a microfiber/Velcro collar that is just his size-not one of those overgrown plastic lampshade thingies. It’s quite cunning in that you thread the cat’s own collar through loops at the base of the cone doohickey so they can’t pull it off. Quite cunning.
But, so sad. As soon as I got it fastened around Merv’s neck he proceeded to weave like Stevie Wonder in horror and was just aghast that I’d attached some weird ass monstrosity to his head, a monstrosity that obliterated his cat whisker ability to navigate safely around objects or walls. Yesterday morning I noticed where he’d tried to eat out of his bowl, which we keep on top of a small bar area. Cat food was scattered all along the flashing under the window and had piled in the corner next to the empty bowl. That is ridiculously lame. Have you ever tried to bob for apples with a bucket on your head?
At lunch I loosened the Velcro and held it away from Merv’s face so he could eat and drink water. As he drank water while I was bent over with my hand on one knee and the other holding the collar sideways I thought perhaps he was jacking with me a bit, because he drank water for a long, long, long time. A long time. Long long time.
After work I thought, wow, his ears are shaping up a bit, even in a day! Let’s see how he does for a few minutes with the collar off! Cat-quite cunning, just like the collar.
Five minutes later I found him under the bed with bleeding ears. A whole day of effort shot to hell because he’d looked at me with liquid, imploring, catbaby eyes. Back on it went and last night he slept on me pretty much the whole night, purring away while I scratched his neck and tried to make him feel less like a freak while he bumped me with the edge of the collar each time I turned over.
After the initial intrigue of “OOH! A new cat head! Let’s play!” from Dot, even she is sympathetically moping with Merv.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Guinea pigs and fried fish
All righty then. Back to important stuff. Like my dreams last night and early this morning.
It's a good thing that REM sleep, during which one dreams, is the most necessary because I'd be dead considering how little uninterrupted sleep I get. But I'm great at getting right down to the weird stuff.
So, I was in a garage at work, where there are no garages, and one of our directors popped out of a manhole with his cellphone and said something or other and I noticed his hair had been died jet black and he looked like an exhumed Clark Gable. But that's okay because I had the most adorable, cuddly, squooshy Guinea pig in my arms.
I've never had a Guinea pig so I was really happy about getting one there. And, he happened (I'm sure it was a he) to like fish and chips, which was lucky because I just happened to have some freshly fried Long John Silver's fish in front of me. I believe the fish was leftover from the fish and chips concession that had gone out of business at the Boston Red Sox's baseball park. Perhaps it was poor marketing, but there you go.
My Guinea pig was actually partly constructed of fish, too, which made it easy to give him small bites of himself.
Hey! I don't write the rules here. Don't judge.
Then we were back at work where a coworker from way back had returned and was instructing an Olympic athlete how to properly hang kitchen tools on the ceiling. This particular ceiling was about 30 feet high and the utensils that needed hanging where, like, flashlights and rolling pins that had to lock into some hole thingies just so. I think that must be Freudian or toolian logic.
This same coworker was also instructing a new director on the mechanics of tying one's shoelaces, on the front of an interactive greeting card. I do believe that was a value judgment I wove into the dream, not that that guy is slow or anything...
Then I woke up without a Guinea pig, fishless, bereft and forlorn until I had a breakfast burrito.
It's a good thing that REM sleep, during which one dreams, is the most necessary because I'd be dead considering how little uninterrupted sleep I get. But I'm great at getting right down to the weird stuff.
So, I was in a garage at work, where there are no garages, and one of our directors popped out of a manhole with his cellphone and said something or other and I noticed his hair had been died jet black and he looked like an exhumed Clark Gable. But that's okay because I had the most adorable, cuddly, squooshy Guinea pig in my arms.
I've never had a Guinea pig so I was really happy about getting one there. And, he happened (I'm sure it was a he) to like fish and chips, which was lucky because I just happened to have some freshly fried Long John Silver's fish in front of me. I believe the fish was leftover from the fish and chips concession that had gone out of business at the Boston Red Sox's baseball park. Perhaps it was poor marketing, but there you go.
My Guinea pig was actually partly constructed of fish, too, which made it easy to give him small bites of himself.
Hey! I don't write the rules here. Don't judge.
Then we were back at work where a coworker from way back had returned and was instructing an Olympic athlete how to properly hang kitchen tools on the ceiling. This particular ceiling was about 30 feet high and the utensils that needed hanging where, like, flashlights and rolling pins that had to lock into some hole thingies just so. I think that must be Freudian or toolian logic.
This same coworker was also instructing a new director on the mechanics of tying one's shoelaces, on the front of an interactive greeting card. I do believe that was a value judgment I wove into the dream, not that that guy is slow or anything...
Then I woke up without a Guinea pig, fishless, bereft and forlorn until I had a breakfast burrito.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Here's the thing again
Many people don't have the capacity to think things through. They're basically, well, slow. They're reactive. And poorly reactive and that's what get's them into the binds that we all have to rescue them from. It gets tiring, but, it's never ending, so. such is life.
I'm in charge here, so what I say goes.
I'm in charge here, so what I say goes.
Making society a better place
Biggest bullshit trope ever. I posit that most people want to succeed at whatever they do, take care of their immediate family and friends, succor those whom they are able, not be a total massive burden on their descendants and get through life with a shred of humanity, faith and non-cynicism intact.
Oh. Maybe that IS what making society a better place is. Who knew?
I don't think it's (making society better) buying into any sort of catchall dream act (disclaimer disclaimer disclaimer and I know I'm waffling and that's because I know the Hispanic peeps who work around here bust their asses more than anyone and I don't wish them any harm even if they're illegal. In fact, there may be some sort of accommodation needed to fix this...I know, I suck.) with the blown up bullshit that these young people who are in school, blah blah blah, through no fault of their own, blah blah blah, want to give back and be productive members of our community and yada yada yada.
I don't believe they want to contribute to our society any more so than the actual citizens, young, that I know, who want to do the same thing. Having had to shoulder all the financial responsibilities that accompany being a citizen, like, not receiving governmental favors of some sort because they're poor betrodden kids of illegal aliens.
Oh. Maybe that IS what making society a better place is. Who knew?
I don't think it's (making society better) buying into any sort of catchall dream act (disclaimer disclaimer disclaimer and I know I'm waffling and that's because I know the Hispanic peeps who work around here bust their asses more than anyone and I don't wish them any harm even if they're illegal. In fact, there may be some sort of accommodation needed to fix this...I know, I suck.) with the blown up bullshit that these young people who are in school, blah blah blah, through no fault of their own, blah blah blah, want to give back and be productive members of our community and yada yada yada.
I don't believe they want to contribute to our society any more so than the actual citizens, young, that I know, who want to do the same thing. Having had to shoulder all the financial responsibilities that accompany being a citizen, like, not receiving governmental favors of some sort because they're poor betrodden kids of illegal aliens.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Olympics Belated Review
Not the events, the opening ceremonies. I know, I know, it's been covered. However.
I've seen an Olympic opening ceremony in Albertville. It was just when shit started to get weird and Cirque du Soleil stuff was on the horizon and you could sit there with your mouth hanging open and go "FAR FUCKING OUT!" Bach was used for rollerblading music. I mean.
It was the trip of a lifetime. The performers and music were non pareil, the marching bubble ladies were cool, the bungee jumpers, the hanging drum bangers, etc. etc. etc. It really was fun.
So. Now. 2012. I like weird. I LOVE weird. I was hoping for WEIRD.
Sidebar: the Queen thingie was funny. The Corgis were adorable. Mr. Bean, whom I'm not a fan of, though in Rat Race he's great, was cute.
What I got was strikingly misconceived. That does not qualify as weird. And, the whole main point of all of these ceremonies is that they should be entertaining. Fun, funny, awe-inspiring, pretty, maybe just amusing. Weird in a good weird way. Not a dystopian lesson on our faulty morals and the strength of a failing European civilization.
Boring is not a quality one should strive for in a spectacle. And, in the end, this opening ceremony was boring and depressing, disconnected and, of course, as it flew past me, NHS, I thought, "Did I really see that? Did I?"
And did I really see the boring beds and ugly boring baby and abortion of Mary Poppins? Did I? Did I see a paean to social media? Really? I gotchur social media right here in my ass.
You must NOT bore me and assail me with ugly, because then I don't watch the rest and miss the rock concert.
Which I'm glad I missed, because,sorry, Paul McCartney is boring.
DO NOT BORE.
I've seen an Olympic opening ceremony in Albertville. It was just when shit started to get weird and Cirque du Soleil stuff was on the horizon and you could sit there with your mouth hanging open and go "FAR FUCKING OUT!" Bach was used for rollerblading music. I mean.
It was the trip of a lifetime. The performers and music were non pareil, the marching bubble ladies were cool, the bungee jumpers, the hanging drum bangers, etc. etc. etc. It really was fun.
So. Now. 2012. I like weird. I LOVE weird. I was hoping for WEIRD.
Sidebar: the Queen thingie was funny. The Corgis were adorable. Mr. Bean, whom I'm not a fan of, though in Rat Race he's great, was cute.
What I got was strikingly misconceived. That does not qualify as weird. And, the whole main point of all of these ceremonies is that they should be entertaining. Fun, funny, awe-inspiring, pretty, maybe just amusing. Weird in a good weird way. Not a dystopian lesson on our faulty morals and the strength of a failing European civilization.
Boring is not a quality one should strive for in a spectacle. And, in the end, this opening ceremony was boring and depressing, disconnected and, of course, as it flew past me, NHS, I thought, "Did I really see that? Did I?"
And did I really see the boring beds and ugly boring baby and abortion of Mary Poppins? Did I? Did I see a paean to social media? Really? I gotchur social media right here in my ass.
You must NOT bore me and assail me with ugly, because then I don't watch the rest and miss the rock concert.
Which I'm glad I missed, because,sorry, Paul McCartney is boring.
DO NOT BORE.
Re-blurrrrrrrr
Let us see. Since the last episode of blurrrrr we've had four more meetings-7/27, 7/30/7/31 and 8/2. Why yes. Yes indeedy. The latest this morning, four hours, I hate everybody and they're all stupid fuckwits and therefore I'm free associablogging and unwisely using my time and resources.
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