» Accidental animal cruelty

Despite the name
I have yet to do that degree of harm to a cat (or my cat), and it instead refers to what happens every time my curiosity gets the best of me. It's to the same affect of Christmas bells and angels' wings. Or wanking and kittens.

My bit of accidental cruelty was deciding to take my boy home from the shelter. He's a tuxedo, very dignified, and very sweet. Except I am more than happy to exploit him for my own amusement. Time spent studying for finals was instead used chasing him around the apartment when his midnight crazies were especially bad. I laughed my arse off as he howled for help when he got his first bath. I frequently grab him under the front legs to make him stand up like Sylvester the Cat. I grab his back legs to play wheelbarrow with him and try to break my long distance records. If he has an embarrassing moment, I am there with the camera. I play with his ears, his tail, pedal his legs, play "stop hitting yourself", and behave like a six year old. He has not properly been referred to by his real name for months and is more often referred to as Kitty, The Cat, Mr. Chubbs, Fat Ass, Fatsy Patsy, HEFTY HEFTY HEFTY wimpy wimpy wimpy, and the now infamous FAN-W (Fat Ass the Nutless Wonder).

Intentional cruelty aside, my one moment of accidental cruelty was letting my fat bitch of a classmate drop him as he was struggling to get out of her grasp after much prodding and pulling at him, and she unceremoniously dumped him to the floor. Kitty landed loudly on his side and I near took her throat out. She doesn't understand what the big deal is and still insists her cat is an asshole. If that's how she handles animals, no wonder her mog hates her. (The one time I accidentally kicked my boy was when I couldn't find him, nudged a blanket on the floor and heard a startled meow.)

Despite the abuse I heap on my pet, he is the best decision I have ever made about anything and I love him like I'd love my child. (Except I probably wouldn't play wheelbarrow with my sprog. We shall see.) Everytime I come home, he is porked out on the bed in a hilarious pose and a chorus of "MIAOW!" and headbutts. He'll run pell-mell after his toy balls and makes out with his catnip pillow with glee. As much fun as it is to grab his love handles and make Three Stooges noises, I love it when it's 2 AM, I need to brush my teeth and go to bed, but he's tucked into the crook of my arm and fast asleep. If he wants attention, he'll flip over to show his belly and curls into a cinammon bun. He chirps and grunts and answers to my noises. He's only yarked when he ran around too much, shit on the rug when he was sick (and once when I wouldn't wake up to pay attention to him), he doesn't claw up the furniture, he'd rather run than bite or claw someone, and he is the biggest ball of sweetness I could ever be blessed with.

Gawbless the pets who will take our abuse, intentional or accidental, and love us anyway. I'm sure a number of posts have been made on this subject, but another one to sing their poor praises is always nice. :) He is currently tucked up at the end of the bed and grunting whenever I poke him.

Here is the delightful lil dumptruck. This is the first of many hilarious moments, especially since I walked in on him like this and stayed like that so I could get my camera.



Click 'I like this' if you want to see when he got into the bras.
(Thu 13th Dec 2007, 8:30, More)

» Pure Ignorance

No contest
Speaking as an American, we have Jerry Falwell, Bill O'Reilly, Ken Starr, George Bush, Anna Nicole Smith, the KKK, Britney Spears, Jack Chick, Ashlee Simpson, Ben Affleck, Strong Thurmond, Ann Coulter, Carrot Top, soccer moms, emo music, hillbillies, Christian fundamentalists, Harry Potter book burnings, anime fangirls, and the Bible Belt. We think french fries are French, homosexuality is a choice, Jesus is white, common sense should be punishable by death, the Civil War was only about freeing the slaves, WW2 was only about freeing the Jews, Janet Jackson is offensive for having boobs, and the English are "tea-sipping pansies".

Any attempts to prove ignorance exists in Britain (aside from chavs) will be useless. We already have you beat.
(Mon 10th Jan 2005, 1:52, More)

» Terrible Parenting

Questionable parenting
I've been baby-sitting for several years now, and fortunately the horror stories have kept to a minimum. It's still going to take a lot to make me forget when the youngest of two was still getting potty-trained.

"I have to use the bathroom."
"Okay, go nuts."

He dances out of the room and I return to whatever I was reading, probably Irvine Welsh. (Great example I'm setting for the sprogs, yes?) He dances back into the room, hands firmly clamped in his crotch and doing the poopy-dance.

"I have to poop."
"Okay, go poop."
"I need you to open the door."
"What?"

His older brother detaches from the TV long enough to tell me,

"He's still being potty-trained, so we're letting him use the lawn."
"WHAT?!"

This still remains the one and only time I've had to call a parent. Their mom was very patient in explaining to me that yes, he can pee or poop in the backyard. It didn't help that I could hear their older cousin laughing herself sick in the background. My parents almost collapsed a collective lung when I shared the story with them. Fortunately, I was spared the task and asked the younger to hold it in until his parents got home, which he duly obeyed.

These are the same kids who would later say Ms. Scarlet of 'Clue' was ugly because she looked like a Japanese woman, and later that night we're watching a TV version of 'Alice in Wonderland' and the same lawn-crapper declares Mr. Caterpillar (Sammy Davis Jr) to be a bad man.

"Why's that?"
"Because he has grey skin."

Once again, my parents come dangerously close to impairing their health from how hard they're laughing when I tell them about this, and I have to restrain myself from the same thing when I lecture the wee one about how that's not nice.

Despite these little incidents, I adore the lil buggers and they're two of the sweetest kids in the world. (They also got me into Harry Potter.) I don't think I ever raised these incidents with their parents, mostly cos I just didn't want to know where it came from. I blame television. (Please God, let it be television?)

Apologies for length. I told him to hold it in.
(Thu 16th Aug 2007, 23:11, More)

» Putting the Fun in Funeral

And now for something light-hearted
My dad is in very good shape, part of the Jack Lalanne juicer club, and doesn't look like he's going anywhere soon, but he has left instruction for us to play Meat Loaf's "Paradise By the Dashboard Light" at his funeral. Mom is very much against the idea.

And after attending a relative's funeral with an obviously off-the-boat Filipino priest, dad made it very clear he wants an All American priest who knows how to speak English. He wants to be resting in peace, instead of piss or peas like poor Uncle Donald.
(Sat 13th May 2006, 9:33, More)

» Shame

Immortal
My dad and I were listening to Led Zeppelin on the way home from the rail station. Curious about the song and eager for conversation, I asked, "is that Elton John?"

Poor Pa almost hit a telephone pole, he made me tell the story when the family was out to dinner, and if having to hear about it over and over isn't bad enough, I still make mistakes like that today.

"Who was that mad German fellow who killed all those Jews and invaded Poland? Stalin?"
"Hitler."
Bugger.
(Thu 24th Nov 2005, 20:38, More)