Ad of the Week

Ad of the Week -- hell, Ad of the Year. There's a touch of brilliance here.

Life Lesson #2049

Earlier this morning ... in a dire race against time, Eileen must dismantle a doorknob and break IN to her own bathroom, knowing it's only a matter of time before she feels the sudden urge to pee. ... The usual unlocking mechanism doesn't work -- oh no!

But what's this? The knob has been put on backwards, with the screws facing out! At last, our heroine scores a break in her hour of need!

---

Seriously. Most ridiculous moment all week. I must have pushed the button lock at some point before stepping outside and closing it and the rickety old knob just wouldn't release the lock. Good news is that it finally prompted the installation of the replacement knob (which was bought three weeks ago, ha).

Good Cat, Bad Cat

And now to indulge in the internet's favorite past time, Cats. Recently, Good Cat went in to see the vet for some regularly scheduled feline maintenance.

She was quite vocal in her objections to going in the box, leaving the house, going in the car, leaving the car, and sitting in the vet's waiting room. The fuzzy brown puppy in the waiting room thought she was fascinating. But he was a very well behaved fuzzy brown puppy and just stare from across the room. Good Cat does not hiss. She cries. Short, plaintive bursts of noise that struck just the right acoustic balance to fill the entire waiting room and draw the attention of all three of the reception workers ... who were all more interested in how well the fuzzy brown puppy was handling everything. Sometimes cats can't get no love.

More vocal protests accompanied our move into the exam room. When I opened the door of the carrying box, she turned around, presenting her butt to the door. Clearly stating that while she by no stretch of the imagination did she want to be in the box to begin with, she would not be departing at the current locale. I'll get off at the next stop, thank you very much. So when the vet-tech up-ended the box, the result was a graceless but surprisingly funny rear-end first exit. More meowing. And some army crawling to the safest looking positions.

Vet examination proved that Good Cat is a Good Cat with no noticeable health problems, unlike Bad Cat who has had a bad tooth, urinary crystals and infections, eosinophilic granuloma complex, is so allergic to hard water that she'll lick the fur off her stomach if she gets too much, and last summer, got pneumonia. Oh and when she was a kitten she got a ball of infection pressing between bone and skin (there's a name for when an infection makes itself into a ball so that antibiotics don't work on it but I've forgotten it) which caused her paw to explode. Bad cat is expensive. But friendly. Everyone at the vet's office loves her.

Good Cat only ever sees vet for vaccinations.

I did however need to run by the vet my one concern about Good Cat's habits: she eats spinach. Loves it. She hears the baby spinach bag crinkle and she's there waiting next to me to see if I'll throw her a leaf which she then sniffs then hauls off to a new local to play with and eventually consume.

Of course, in fear of being considered an awful Pet Parent, I must downplay my enabling of Good Cat's spinach addiction. So I tell vet that Good Cat will steal spinach and snag dropped leaves off the floor ... which yes, she totally does, the fact that I regularly throw her a leaf is not mentioned. Vet nods. Asks if Good Cat might have a little bit of vomiting post-spinach-snag. Nope, no vom.

Vet nods again. Tells me, "If she wants to enjoy the occasional leaf then I don't see any harm in it."

Best. Vet. Line. Ever. The occasional leaf, said the same way a doctor would explain the benefits the occasional glass of red wine. 

So I head home in pretty good spirits. But hey, I'm not the one that just got stuck in a little box, uncerimoniously dumped from said little box, then given a rabies vaccination in my hip. I let the cat out, take out the trash, run to the post office, come home and find Good Cat is happy but sleepy. More than willing to let me pet her. Bad Cat is under the bed.

Bad Cat is usually an attention whore. Needy. In your face. Friends with everyone. Pet me. Love me. Feed me if you must but I'd really rather you dangle a string for me to pounce on. Nope. None of that. Not today. Today she is under the bed. Try to pet her -- gone. Dangle string -- she eyes you suspiciously. Bad Cat knows where Good Cat has been and Bad Cat is waiting, waiting for her turn to be shoved in the box and carted off.

For the rest of the day she waits, waits for the other shoe to drop. Meanwhile, Good Cat gets her "occasional leaf."

For Lack of Substance...

For lack of a topic of substance today, I present you with the Sad Cat Diaries. With luck, I will craft something of brilliance by next week.

Type in All Cats

It's bad form to type in all caps on the internet, a mode of communication generally perceived as "yelling." But what if, instead of caps, you could type in all cats?
Just when you thought the internet's obsession with cats could come no closer to all-consuming Ancient Egypt style worship, there arrives Neko Font, maker of the cat font.

"Somebody that I used to know" Star Wars parody

I recently had my attention drawn to a fabulous parody of the music video for "Somebody That I Used to Know" by Goyt. First I want to post the original video since the video's concept is integral to understanding the parody.



The parody is part humor, part lyrical protest letter. They're the protests we've heard before from Star Wars fans, but never quite this amusingly put, and never involving so much body paint.

A beauty but a funny girl, that Belle-parody-video

The first fab parody I saw of the opening number from Disney's Beauty and The Beast was "Bonjour, Girl."

I just recently was sent this one, titled "Beauty and the Beat." I think Jerome's solo is my favorite.

Dear Dr. Fleischman

For your viewing pleasure, a story (music video) that tells a tale of obsessive fandom. The fabulous, and slightly creepy, "Dear Dr. Fleischman" by Meira Marom. And yes, that's Dr. Fleischman as in the 90s TV show Northern Exposure.

Time spent writing

Image found via

I've had varied success at "googling for inspiration." Sometimes it leads to abject despair. Other times it springs from abject despair, and it's those times when it seems to work fairly well.

. . . or, erm, it works at least okay . . . ish.

Why some women stay single

A fabulous short mockumentary about why some women stay single. Quite funny.

The Old Spice Cat

I'm not sure how I missed this Old Spice + Puss In Boots mash up last fall, but I'm loving it now!

Feline-1, Me-0

The other afternoon, I gathered materials to start working on a post-lunch writing project. I brought my journal, calendar/planner, and Nook with me and stacked them nicely beside my computer keyboard. I was going to move the keyboard and make a bit of space then journal/plan/read. But almost as soon as I had done that, the fluffy, needy cat sat square on my stack of supplies. I'd been completely and totally cock-blocked ... in a feline/literary sort of way.

Bad cat.

The good cat was nicely asleep on the cat-pillow I've placed on my desk as a preemptive strike against such shenanigans.

Apparently, I need more cat-pillows.

Bookstores

Found via GalleyCat.

cat scan

I happen to have found an entire blog devoted to what happens when you put a cat on a scanner bed and push scan now.

They're strangely adorable.

Oh, and if you get so enamored of the cat scan concept, you can scan your own cat (or your own cat's butt given the way many of the scans turn out) and send it in to the cat scan blog owner. You may make the cut and appear in a future post.

My cats will not be appearing as I, sadly, do not own my own scanner. The cats and I would have to make a trip to the library ... or the English office ... and somehow I don't imagine that going well.

Pumpkin carving as an art

Believer it or not, I stole both of these pictures off of George Takei's facebook wall. There's just so many layers of geekery to unpack in this post that it's not worth thinking about it.  

Of the first one Takei writes:

One gourd to roux them all, two eggs to bind them, one gourd, add sugar and spice, and with some whipped cream pie them.

Takei had no witty captions for this next act of pumpkin carving brilliance, but my friend stepped in to fill the void. She writes:

I'm afraid this pumpkin will be quite operational...

Calender Men

If you've seen the film Calendar Girls you know the basics of the plot: older women decide to produce a calendar to make money for some very nice charity project by posing naked behind strategically placed items.  It's a funny and charming film -- and if you liked it I highly recommend Kinky Boots another British comedy with similar themes and wit though less nudity and more shoes.

I bring this up because I've recently come across The Men of the Stacks a 2012 calendar of, you guessed it, male librarians.  There's ... well you should really just see it. The pictures range; obviously they weren't all shot by the same photographer, but the proceeds go to the It Gets Better Project. http://menofthestacks.com/

Also sent to me was this series of photos of men in traditional pin up poses. There's such a brilliant combination of the traditional pin up and the average man that these are absurdly amusing.

Must needs watch this

A great little adaptation if you haven't seen it yet.

Plot Device

Plot Device from Red Giant on Vimeo.

MFA Survivalist

In one of the more anticlimactic moments of my master's program, I have received the email informing me that my MFA in creative writing has been granted.  The diploma to follow shortly by mail.

That's it. I'm done. Really done. I've survived.

And now for others that have "survived": a great humorous vid that I've been forwarded (thanks MonkeyLOLogist).  This will likely be funnier for those who watch Mythbusters, but should provide a special type of glee for all geeks.


I decided not to walk during the summer commencement ceremony.  And maybe it would have been more momentous if I had.  Instead, on that day, I chose to do something more meaningful: I had coffee with my advisor and brunch with other fiction program students.  I walked at my undergrad commencement and that was momentous -- then again it was a more meaningful ceremony for me.  There were less than 700 students in my graduating class.  We had our names called individually, we walked across the stage, shook the university president's hand, and got our diplomas.  Here, at a large, state university, lumped in among thousands of undergrads and sundry grad students getting their degrees, I didn't feel like the pomp was worth the circumstances.

Yes, I made a pun.  Forgive me.

Instead, I received word of my degree completion while sitting at my computer, wearing gymshorts and a t-shirt, fighting off yet another heat wave.

But isn't this just exemplary of the writer's life?  Here, solitary, at the desk, at the computer, doing the writing until the writing can be done no more.  The friends, the cheers, the drinks and the toasts will come later.  For now, it's back to work.

The bitch in the bridal boutique

Here's a little story from this past weekend., typed as I rewatch back episodes of Covert Affairs from USA.

My friend asked me to be her maid of honor. She's the most low maintenence woman I know, so of course I agreed. We found her dress in December. My dress? I tried on a few in December. But all I remember from back then was being tired from hours at the store. Oh, and I remember feeling fat.

I decided that if I could lose weight on my own ... well six weeks and two pounds later I joined Jenny Craig. On their program I've lost 23 lbs. in three months. Thumbs up.

So 23 lbs. ligther and almost two dress sizes smaller, we went dress shopping again. Beforehand, we'd looked at all these dresses online. Dessy group seemed to be the best. Seemed. Ooh, here's a pretty dress. But you can't buy them online. You have to go to local bridal boutiques. And even if you could buy them online you'd want to try them on right? Right? Wrong. You'd try them on and you'd realize, hey this dress could work. It is not puke-on-a-stick. I would consent to being photographed in this dress. And then you would say: Okay, friend of mine, I will conscent to wear this during your wedding in the color of your choice since you're being gracious enough to offer me a choice of cut and design. And then you will talk to the bridal boutique attendant, and she will ruin your day.

You have a list of questions and concerns.  You have a specific situation that you're hoping the overpriced boutique will be specially able to cater to.  You will be told to shove it, but you don't know that yet.  You should know it from over hearing other people ask the attendants questions and listening to their replies.

Question: Have you had lots of requests for long sleeves because of Kate Middleton's dress?
Answer: Most wedding dresses are sleeveless, strapless gowns.

How is that answer even related to the question?  It isn't, and it's just a conversational question. It's not like they're challenging the stock the boutique carries or the attendant's taste.  And yet, the response is a non-response.  WTF is up with that?  Can't they answer the question?  Are people or aren't people asking about sleeves since Kate Middleton married Prince William?

Yet you proceed, thinking they will help you with your special situation.  You explain that you are undergoing a life transformation, aka a weight loss program.  That you've lost 25 lbs in three months and that you will be much smaller by your friend's October wedding and you're not certain how small.  You expect the bridal boutique attendant to understand that this is not something you're undergoing for your friend's wedding, but to better your life.  You expect the bridal boutique attendant to give you options, to weigh the pros and cons with you. To talk about the realities of dress ordering.

Instead the bridal boutique bitch tells you that you should have already ordered a dress if you want it for an October wedding.  That if you don't order it by May 19, they will have to add on a $60 rush charge and it will  take three months instead of four to get there.  That four months is not nearly enough time for the tailoring she expects you to do.

Four months? A Project Runway contestant pounds out a dress in 10 hours.  You're telling me your sweatshop in Asia can't?  It's an already designed dress made entirely of synthetic materials.  It's not like we have to wait for the worms to spin silk.  Nor is the weather affecting the cotton crop--it's just a gauzy version of polyester.  What kind of crack are these boutiques on?

Actually, I'm being too harsh.  You don't think of the sales chick as the boutique bitch . . . yet.  She's still the attendant.  The fact that she believes you will want to pay $70 to tailor a dress that costs $165 off the rack  makes her a capitalist, not a bitch.  So far.

But if I can walk into fucking Macy's and buy an $80 dress that fits beautifully, then I see no reason to indulge in price gouging--let alone tailoring fees--just because I'm supposed to dress in the same color as two other women who'll also carry flowers.

Still, I remain calm.  Until ...

Until I tell the bridal boutique attendant that I've lost 25 lbs and that I'll likely lose another 25 lbs before my friend's wedding because of my weight loss program.  I don't plug Jenny Craig to her by name because I felt that would be tacky.  Then the bridal boutique bitch says to me, "Well, if you feel confident in your program then we can order you the size down."

Bitch.

I've lost two dress sizes in three months.  You think that I have to be fucking "confident" that I'll go down just one more size in the next five months?

See this commission?  Wanna kiss it goodbye? Because it's gone.

That night while falling asleep I indulged in a bunch of mental eye rolling about how the skinny bitch has never gone up or down more than a size at a time and does not understand what it means to join the mother-f'ing-program.

You join the program. You pay the money. You get the results. Because if you don't get the results, you get to watch your money fly away on the wings you made for it.  Very good motivator.  And the program makes it easy to make your money work, not fly.

Anyway.  At the bridal boutique, my friend also tried on veils and tiaras.  The tiaras were atrocious.  Giant monstrous creations.  If you've always been a flowers and crowns kinda girl then maybe these would not be so bad. But this would be my friend's first tiara.  And since she's not marrying Prince William, she really shouldn't wear the things in the case.  (Although I'm certain Kate Middleton would have found the things in the case tacky even if she was marrying a commoner.)  Anyway.  My friend found a veil she loved which cost as much as her dress.  And we decided that she could not buy a veil for that price because you can't even wear a veil out in public on its own without being arrested and therefore you should not spend that much money on it.

"Hey," my friend said.  "What if we go to David's Bridal and see what tiaras and veils they have there?"

Long story shortened: we found a veil, a tiara and a brides maid's dress that we liked.  The people were also much more reasonable and much less bitchy.  And they'll get us our dress in (most likely) six weeks, not four fucking months.  So I've got more time to figure things out before I order.  And no boutique bitch to impede the process.