King's Water Dance

King likes his water. I often catch him doing what I lovingly refer to as King's Water Dance. He is very very slow on the draw. I get worried when I see him drinking too much because excessive drinking means he might be developing kitty diabetes. I learned this the hard way when he sucked down water like a marathon runner and flooded the litterbox. Anyway, he doesn't have diabetes now, which is good, but he still dances around the water bowl at every opportunity. On a side note, I've NEVER witnessed Webster drinking from the water bowl. Odd.

Since King is so slow, I was able to document the Water Dance for you last night. We begin at the top, where he is near the bowl and thinking about drinking some water. Next, we move onto this shot of him looking at the bowl. Just looking, thinking about it, pondering its watery deliciousness.


Now we move on to the Water Crouch. Here he likes to hover slightly above the bowl to check things out. Note how he has a grizzly hump on his back. So anyway, he'll sit like this for a few minutes.

Now he is leaning in for his first lap of water. King likes to stick his entire jaw into the bowl. I can tell when he has been doing the Water Dance because his whole chin area is wet. One would think he would learn how to do this without getting water ON himself.

He really likes to lean in there.

Then he has to stop and pause for a moment. Sometimes there are no noises. In this case, he heard the Landparents walking around upstairs. Must pause. Wait. Is it safe to keep drinking?

Once the All Clear signal has hit his brain, he really likes to go for it. Ahhhh...water....

UPDATE: Met my new Landmother, though I might just call her Landsister (young). I introduced myself and was very friendly, signed a piece of paper, and got her and her boyfriend's info. WHOO HOO!! I don't have to move out!!! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Cranky Crankerson from Cranksville

I'm cranky. I wasn't going to post because I like to post happy, but then I thought I might as well because I need some advice anyway. After a horrible car ride home (which included a super miserable trip to the grocery store), I realized that I STILL haven't heard from my new Landparents. Old Landlord never bothered to tell me the building sold, so I found out by noticing the for sale sign was gone and calling the realtor. When I called Old Landlord to ask him what was going on and if I should send him a check for November, he never called me back. Jerk.

So then I heard a lot of rumblings upstairs. They moved in about a week and a half ago. According to the realtor, they closed the sale. They enter through the side hall, but I enter through the front. This means we don't really have to see each other. BUT we do share a common back hallway, so I can hear them going in and out all the time. The really nifty part of all of this is that they haven't introduced themselves. No knock. No letter. No name to write a rent check to. WTF? It's only a 3-flat, for Pete's sake.

Today when I came home, I saw their last names on the mailbox. And each day/night I've listened to them walking around in their shoes on the hardwood above me. Ahem. So what to do?

Pa told me I should go knock and introduce myself. Pa is a very nice man. But now I'm cranky. And stubborn. They should introduce themselves to me, right? Isn't that what Landparents do? I'm especially cranky about this because my building was put up for sale in August 2005. CAN'T IT JUST BE OVER ALREADY????? Sorry. Didn't mean to yell.

Those less nice than Pa have told me to wait it out. See if I can get a free month's rent out of this deal. But what if they use my not paying rent as a good excuse to kick me out? I love my apartment and my building. I want to stay right here. So I can't, under any circumstances, be rude to these people. I don't want them to start walking around in stilletos up there.

So what should I do? Tomorrow is D-Day--do I knock, introduce, and pay rent or not?

(PS: New Landparents--if you are for some reason reading this, I'm sure you're very nice and attractive. Please don't kick me out. Thanks. Kisses!)

10 Great Nonfiction Books

Since neither I nor the kitties have adjusted to daylight savings, I’m up early this morning and have decided to write about some of the nonfiction books that have been keeping me entertained lately. I’ve read all of these in the last two years or so, and have greatly enjoyed each one. A lot of people think nonfiction is boring, but I disagree. I’ve found some truly fascinating nonfiction books out there—not the stuffy, dry ones I was forced to read in college. I’ll get back to fiction someday, but for now, nonfiction it is…

In no particular order, here are some of my favorites.

The Turk: The Life and Times of the Famous Eighteenth-Century Chess-Playing Machine
by Tom Standage

About a chess-playing automaton from the late 1700s. I had to control myself the whole time from flipping to the back to find out the secret to the machine, but it was well worth the wait when I got to the end.

Miracle in the Andes: 72 Days on the Mountain and My Long Trek Home
by Nando Parrado and Vince Rause

Written by the man who climbed out of the Andes mountains after the plane crash in 1972. Even though I’ve seen the movie “Alive,” this book was incredible. Sure, they ate each other, but the real beauty of the experience was how they emotionally survived such a horrifying ordeal. Made me feel like I could do anything.

The Stranger Beside Me: Ted Bundy, the Shocking Inside Story
by Ann Rule

What list of mine would be complete without a good, old fashioned serial killer book? Ann Rule actually worked with Ted and knew him quite well. I didn’t know the whole story of his killing spree until I read this book. Damn clever man. Sick, but clever.

The Great Fire
by Jim Murphy

Yep, I read kids’ books, too. Sometimes they are better than adult books. I read this one while I was in a “learn about Chicago” phase. Tells all about the fire that ripped through Chicago in 1871. Poor Mrs. O’Leary—she gets such a bad rap.

The Idiot Girls' Action Adventure Club
by Laurie Notaro

A memoir about being an idiot. I’ve loaned this one out to many a girlfriend, and each one has enjoyed it. Notaro has written other memoirs as well, but this one is the best.

A Private Disgrace : Lizzie Borden by Daylight
by Victoria Lincoln

This one got a bad rap on amazon, but I thought it was great. It was written by someone who lived down the street from the Bordens, so it’s like reading "US Weekly" gossip about the murders. Lots of details and unanswered questions, but in a good way.

Under the Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith
by Jon Krakauer

I read this one before I watched “Big Love” on HBO, so I felt like I understood those characters better. I like how Krakauer makes a big distinction between the normal Mormons and the Fundamentalist Mormons. Also, I learned where Mormonism came from…very interesting, indeed.

Surviving Hitler: A Boy in the Nazi Death Camps
by Andrea Warren

Jack Mandelbaum was 15 when he was taken to a concentration camp. I read this book more than once, and loved it each time. And I cried each time. (This is a kids’ book.)

The Perilous Journey of the Donner Party
by Marian Calabro

The poor Donners! They really got a bad rap, too. The other people in their party ruined everything, yet the Donners are the only ones who get blamed. This book let me know that the Donners weren’t all that bad. There are also copies of letters from different family members in here—very cool. (This is a kids’ book.)

Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers
by Mary Roach

I enjoyed reading this one on the train to freak people out. It’s about the different ways cadavers are used for scientific or other research. If you can get past the first chapter, you’re home free. I actually exchanged email with the author after I read it and she’s very nice.

A Walk in the Woods
by Bill Bryson

This is a travel book about Bryson’s hike up the Appalachian Trail. I found myself laughing out loud a lot while reading this one. I would never ever ever ever want to walk this much, but I’m happy to read about someone else’s journey.

Have you read any great nonfiction lately? If so, tell me!!

Flip This Cat

In honor of Julie over at Flip This Body, and anyone else who is working on weight loss, I decided to post some before and after pictures of how well King is doing with his weight. Of course, King has no control over what I put in his food dish, but he does like to sneak in some plastic throughout the day as a snack. This morning I woke up to the sound of him chomping on the plastic Pa and I put over my bedroom window to keep out the cold. I knew it was only a matter of time before he discovered this tempting snack.

When I adopted King, he weighed 25 lbs. He had blood in his stool and a third-eyelid infection. His coat was lackluster. He had dandruff all over in his coat. It was gross. I read a book that said cats with dander problems are often neglected because people don't want to hold them. So even though it was gross, I held him and cuddled him--when he let me. For months, he lived on the bathroom mat and would not come out of that room. A friend came over and said, "Does that worry you that he won't come out of there?" It did, but what could I do about it?

We went through many different food options, with all of them being straight from the vet and VERY expensive. I tried brushing him, but he has a sensitive back and would run away whenever I came at him with the brush. Fine, I'll just pet your head, I told him. Pet my belly, he replied.

Then came the pilling, which led to my daydreams about the cat burrito. My ex would not pill King--he didn't have the patience. So twice a day, I tried to put two prednisone pills into King. If I buried it in his wet food, he would eat everything but the pills. I had to hold him, crank open his alligator-like jaws, and shove the pills in. At one point, he started foaming at the mouth until he got the pills back up. He would regularly pretend they were swallowed and then go spit them out. When he started to get diabetes, we took him off the pills, much to my relief. Then his weight began to magically go away when I put him on the All Wet Food Diet. This was just in time because I was starting to grow weary of my relationship with King. He never came when he was called, wanted to cuddle, or left the bathroom. Hrumpf.

It was then that I discovered Dick Van Patten. I know, WTF, right? But he makes food for cats and dogs with allergies. And let me tell you, the Venison and Pea food did the trick! King's back dander went away, his coat became glossy, he moved out of the bathroom and into the bed, wanted to be hugged at least once a day, and dropped enough weight to become interested in TOYS. Up until then, only Webster played with toys. King always gave me a bored look. But suddenly, he was chasing little mice around, flying across the hardwood with Webster, and batting at stray crochet yarn like a kitten.

Now he is down to 20 lbs. I know that still sounds fat, but look at the above picture. See how he looks like a tick about to pop? Then look at this picture, which Flamingo lovingly shot one night. See the difference? Oh, my little Kingy. Momma is so proud.

And just so Webster doesn't feel left out, here is my little cuddler napping on the footrest. I so wish I could curl up on my own body parts like this.

Ho-ed Out and Hungover, Part 2

OK, so in the time it took me to upload these pics, I was able to order delivery. Ahhh. Delivery. So back to the party. The people above totally cracked me up. Their switch even worked, too!

These people below are perhaps the bravest people I've ever met.

And what would a party be without KISS?

Or wet T-shirt girls?

And then I found another Medusa! I really wasn't trying to kill her with my boob, I swear.

This is Buttercup's fiance as a Wall. Super nice guy, and hot, too.

By the end of the night, everyone was very HAPPY!

And drunk. The peas lost their pod and partied the night away. Where was Medusa? So hammered that I told Buttercup I was going to go hang out and be "anonymous" in my neighborhood. (WTF?) But what really happened was that I went home and passed out on my couch.

HAPPY HALLOWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN!

Ho-ed Out and Hungover, Part 1

Blogger is pissed that I am trying to upload so many pictures, so we're going to have to do this in a few different posts. Let's start here. The above picture is the "Before" shot. What do you think I can do with so many pipecleaners....?

I can do THIS! This is my Medusa costume. Whoo hoo! Don't I look scary?? What, you can't see me?

OK, here's a better shot.

This is the view of my head from above.

Off to the party, where I meet Buttercup who is a beautiful fall tree. A tree who likes Corona!

And who better to go with a tree than Raggedy Ann?

I became momentarily baffled when I found Sean Preston face down in a purse in the bathroom.

But it was OK because Britney was just drying off her belly under the hand dryer.

Then I saw Two Peas in a Pod.

And a Vending Machine, who won "Best Costume Male" by the way...

Phew! Britney found K-Fed. Britney won "Best Costume Female"!!

More to come in next post. Hang on a sec.

Dude

Get this, I totally wrote to Hurley and he totally WROTE ME BACK! We are now BFF.

I had to post this now because tonight I have the Halloween party and I won't be able to get ready because I'll be knee-deep in snakes (that is another hint about my costume, BTW).

I *heart* Hurley.

Elevators + Men = Revealing

So The Maiden took this really cool photo of a plant sitting right outside our elevator at work, but I can't find it in my email. WAH. Instead, you will just have to look at this photo that I got for free on the web.

Anyway, elevators tell me a lot about men. There are two types of men: those who have proper Elevator Etiquette and those who don’t. I’ve decided it all revolves around age (but I am really bad at guessing correct age with everyone).

Men Who Appear 34 or Under:

• barge in front of me onto elevators
• do not ask if I need the button pushed
• walk out ahead of me
  

Men Who Appear 35 or Older:

• step back so I can get on the elevator first
• ask me which floor I’m going to and push the button
• gesture for me to get off the elevator first even if I am cowering in the back
  

Now, I’m a not a hard-core etiquette person. I don’t send Christmas cards. I eat with my elbows on the table. I say LOTS of inappropriate things—at work. BUT, I do like a good man who will give me the right-of-way in and out of an elevator. There is something old-fashioned and downright sweet about it.

The other day, I saw a guy headed quickly to my parking garage elevator. I thought for sure I would miss it and half to wait. But he pushed the button and then hit the stairs. EH? Huh? He just pushed the button for ME and then went down. And I could tell he wasn’t even trying to race me because the stairs open up to a different street than the elevator does. It touched my heart, for reals. It made my whole day.

Warning: It's About Lost

Something about this statue reminds me of Ethan.

Anyway, I'm too impatient to wait for the Others to post about Lost (tee hee, Others), so here are my thoughts:

• I don't care about Paulo. Never will.
• Desmond is so freakin' hot. Now that he has saved Claire from the lightning, will Charlie like him better? Why does everyone always have to save Claire. Save yourself, Claire! I love your character, but she needs to be more of a badass or she's going to give moms a bad name.
• I'm sick of being inside. I want to go back outside and play on the island.
• Where is Danielle? I want to know more about her.
• I'm tired of the Others and their little mind games. The Losties need to kick some ass. (hmm, just said "ass" twice in post...this epi has made me a little hostile...didn't like epi...WAH! Want to like epi!!)
• I said this on The Fuselage, but I'll say it again here: The epis in Seasons 1 & 2 were like little movies and I felt they could be watched alone with ease. Season 3's epis can't really be enjoyed one at a time--need more. I can't believe I'm bashing Lost. I love this freakin' show.
• Shining moment: I loved it when Jack said he didn't care about Juliet's feelings. Whoo hoo--go Jack!
• I'm glad the pacemaker was fake because I didn't buy it for a SECOND. I'm shocked that Sawyer did.
• I need to see the following things to be happy SOON: Desmond without shirt on, smoke monster, Danielle, raging jungle scenes, Claire being a badass, Kate being super selfish, Christian, Benry being taken down by a random coconut falling out of a tree.

Here are good places to look for theories, etc.

• The Fuselage (I post there as Lostie97210 because that was my zip in Portland, Oregon. Click on the "threaded board" to see topics.)
• The Tail Section (beware the spoilers, but they are good about hiding them. If you see a spoiler, don't tell me)
• Nik at Nite (has written a book about Lost--good girl!)
• The Transmission (Julie, thanks for turning me on to this one)

Thoughts?

Baby's Got Brows

I got my eyebrows waxed today. Don’t they look nice? (and the photo is very Macooshlike, no?) In the last few weeks or so, I started to notice that my eyebrows were getting a little out of control. I’m not hugely into make-up or hair, but I do get a little concerned when I have a caterpillar on my face. I loooove my new waxer. My old waxer was Vietnamese and would only say, “You have lot hair. It hurts you because you have LOT!” as she would RIP my eyebrows off and induce tears—all while leaning my head back into her rock-hard bosom. My new waxer is pain-free and does not make me feel like a sasquatch, which I appreciate dearly. Now if I could only remember to go to her more than once every two months…

I have to go to Lost message boards now! WTF happened tonight?? The show has me completely baffled.

Wanted: Single Man, 30s, Funny/Nerdish

The majority of my female friends in Chicago are engaged or married. And they all know someone really great who would just be perfect for me. They think. Maybe. So I got to thinking that maybe I should create a questionnaire for these potential men and fill out the answers for them, so they can know if we are compatible or not.

Date: What do I need to look like?

Blondie: You should be tall. If you are short, I will feel like a giraffe. I appreciate hygiene, but overly-groomed men make me nervous. You should be most comfortable in jeans but should own at least one suit (that is not from the 70s OR your father’s). Other than that, I don’t really care. Potbellies don’t scare me.

Date: How old do I have to be?

Blondie: You should be in your 30s or up, though past 45 might be pushing it. Unless you are Kevin Spacey.

Date: Do I have to like your cats? Will you like my pets?

Blondie: You don’t have to like my cats if they don’t like you, but you do have to be nice to them. I have lived with the following animals (from multiple roommates over the years): iguana, fish, dog, dog, cat, dog, bird. I can handle just about anything as long as you take care of it.

Date: Do I have to have a job? What kind?

Blondie: You don’t have to have a job, you have to have a career. I like me my driven mens. But you should not have a career that requires a lot of travel OR is in any way music-related. This also means you should not be in a band.

Date: Do I have to like long walks on the beach?

Blondie: No. I hate the beach.

Date: Should I read a lot of books?

Blondie: You don’t have to read a lot as long as you don’t mind the fact that I do, and I like to talk about the books I’m reading sometimes.

Date: What should be my stance on cuddling?

Blondie: You should like it. But by cuddling, I mean lying on a couch cuddling, not humping-my-leg-while-I’m-trying-to-watch-Lost cuddling.

Date: Speaking of Lost, should I love it?

Blondie: Yes. If you don’t watch it, go to Border’s. Seasons 1 and 2 are on DVD. Watch them.

Date: What do you mean by Nerdish?

Blondie: You should not take yourself too seriously. But I do NOT mean you should go to work in a Trekkie uniform and call yourself Picard.

Date: How do you know who Picard is?

Blondie: OK, so I used to watch Star Trek The Next Generation with my father.

Date: How should I woo you?

Blondie: By solving the mystery of whether or not Lizzie Borden killed her parents. Or by buying me a package of lemon Zingers.

So there you have it, potential dates! Do you fit the bill?

UPDATE: I just popped over to Macoosh's blog and saw that she answered my question for her Tuesday Ask Macoosh segment. Yeah! Head over to see what it was and how she answered.

Ho-ing Out on Halloween

There is something about Halloween that makes me feel slightly ho-ish. I want to look HOT. I want people to think I look amazing in my costume. Does this ever happen? Meh. I think not. But each year, I have wild fantasies about being a really hot Dead Something.

On the farm, there was no trick-or-treating. We would wait patiently in our costumes every year for our cousins to drive over to our house to get the four candy bars Ma had bought for them. Then, if I was lucky, I would go into town and hit a couple of streets with my friends.

In college, I learned what Halloween is really all about: looking as sexy as you possibly can without looking like you are trying to be sexy. Black lipstick helps. Or a short skirt. Which is exactly why I wore white thigh-high stockings with my Dorothy outfit back in 98. But I digress.

The last really super-fly Halloween party I went to was in Oregon. My roommate decided he wanted to have a bash and decorated our giant house with strobe lights, hidden passageways, black lights, cobwebs, skeletons, and covered the whole kitchen with Cheer. Did you know Cheer glows in the dark? I didn’t, but I do now.

Want to know what I was that year? Not gonna tell. Because I’m going as the same thing this year, and I want it to be a surprise (I will put a photo up this weekend). But I’ll give you a little hint by telling you that I went and bought two jumbo bags of pipe-cleaners at Joann’s Fabrics tonight. By the way, they totally call them Chenille Stems now. WTF? Was “pipe cleaner” not PC or something?

My main problem with finding a costume this year was the outfit. The problem with Ho-lloween is that the women’s costumes are made for TWELVE YEAR OLDS. I saw so many short shirts and navel-showing tops while I was looking online that I almost died. I no longer have my college body, people. And I am very tall. This puts me…dare I say it…into the Plus Size category.

I took Ma and Pa with me to the Halloween store this weekend. I saw a few costumes and asked the nice man with the headset to go get me the biggest ones they had from the back. When the costumes were in my hand, Ma kindly pointed out that they might be too small. The packages read: Model is 5’5’’ and weighs 110lbs. (*snicker*) Ma thought maybe I might want to try the costumes on. Because when I got home, I might look like a sausage. OK, she didn’t say that, but I felt like a sausage. A big fat almost-30 sausage in the aisle at the Halloween store surrounded by screaming children and my parents.

I bought a costume and brought it home, crossed my fingers, and tried it on. Nothing looked sausage-like (at least that I could tell), AND it covered every part of my body. WHEW!! Because even though I don’t want to wear a short skirt or have my chest hang out, I still want to look good, dammit.

So now I’m all excited for the benefit that Buttercup & Co & Blondie are going to. I would not spend this much time and energy on my costume if it were not for the benefit, after all. But when you’re going to a party that is being funded by a large company, you’d better be in a good costume. Especially when there will probably be a lot of little young skinny ho’s there. Bwah hahahahahaha!

Who Loves a Graveyard? I Do!

What better way to spend an afternoon with the folks than to walk around a cemetery with your cameras? I took my parents to Graceland Cemetery yesterday which is on, um, groan, Clark Street in Chicago. After driving up and down Clark for a while trying to find it (and eventually stopping to ask a nice man at a Calvary Cemetery up the street where it was), we found Graceland at Irving Park and Clark. After getting yelled at by a ground’s keeper for having a tire in the grass (to allow the passing tour bus) and making a quick stop in a porta-potty with some women who took their cigarettes in there (I was waiting for them to blow up while they tinkled), we finally started taking pics. Here are a few of my favorites.

I had to start with the photo above of “Eternal Silence,” which is one of the best known monuments in Chicago. There are many stories about what will happen if you stare at the face of this statue, but I would like to make up my own fake story and see how long it takes to circulate around the Internet. If you stand in front of “Eternal Silence” at exactly 3pm, it will open its eyes and make a raspberry sound with its mouth.

I think this next one is gorgeous. From the front, she looks like she is just carved into the stone, but when you get close, you can see that she comes out of it. I lovingly call her Slabface.

Just in case Seismic Pirate stops by, I took this one in his honor.

The most beautiful thing by far in this cemetery is Lake Willowmere. The weeping willows are stunning. My grandparents had a weeping willow in their yard, and my cousins and I used to swing from its branches when we were young. I love the way they reflect into the lake.

Just when things were getting good, the batteries in my camera died. I almost wanted to cry because it had taken so long to find the damn cemetery and the parents were there and I had just put in new batteries for Pete’s sake, but then, and I should have known this would happen, Pa whipped out batteries from his pocket. Always travel with an engineer!

I busily started snapping pics again, starting with the Honore angels.

Then I fell in love with this angel outside of the Schoenhofen pyramid. Alas, some jerk has stolen her key. Now she will never get inside.

As we were moving to a new location, Pa rolled down the window and snapped this shot for me of the grave that broke my heart.

And what trip would be complete without a pic of Inez Clark? It is said that she wanders around the graveyard at night during storms. I would totally check this out and report on it for you, but there is razor wire along the top of the brick wall surrounding Graceland Cemetery. And I’m not any good at scaling walls.

Last, but not least, I had Ma take this photo of me. I had her wait until the tour bus had rolled by, and I could not see any other people in sight. Because even though I know I’m going to hell for taking a funny picture of someone else’s grave, I don’t want anyone else to know that. Except you.

Puuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

I took Ma and Pa with me to check on Flamingo's brood today. When we came in, they were a little skittish. They weren't sure about Ma and Pa, who most likely smelled like Farm. I know Farm can be jarring to humans as well. Or maybe they were just shocked to see so many people. Anyway, we petted and petted and the sound of four kitties purring all at the same time shook the rafters. Wait, that was the people working in the apartment upstairs...So anyway, I fed them and they loved it.

They had a lot of dry food out, so they weren't all that interested in finishing up the wet food right away. I think they were saving it for after all the Farmies left. So they stopped eating, and started showing off.

Spud showed me how he can lie on the kitchen table when Mommy and Daddy are gone and get away with it.

Roo showed me how freakin' adorable she is, especially when Pa is holding her.

Chops posed for a glamour shot, despite his missing eye.

And Clyde was just plain heavy. When I picked him up, it was obvious that he now weighs more than King. Because I took King to the vet yesterday and he only weighs 20 pounds now! Whoo hoo!

And last but not least, I snapped this pic of Rocketman, the beta, so I would have proof that he was alive when I was there...just in case he goes to the Toilet Bowl in the Sky or something.

I hated to leave them, but we had to get going so we could head to Graceland Cemetery and take some truly amazing photos. I'll be sharing those in the weeks to come. Meow for now!