No, me neither.  It couldn't possibly be worth the post traumatic stress medical bills that I would most assuredly receive.

We picked up Patches Monday afternoon.  As to be expected he’s currently residing under the bed, but if you swam around in New Orleans for three weeks after Katrina then spent a 3 ½ day trip cross country with eight other cats and dogs; you probably wouldn’t be apt to trust anyone either.

*sigh* A stupid wedge pillow fell on him last night when I was outta the room.  I went looking under the bed for him, turned my head and found him in the sink.  Poor lil guy.  I talked to him and pet him then showed him I was throwing the very evil pillow in the closet.

Our vet in Topeka once told me that cats can go weeks with no food as long as they take in a lil liquid every couple days.  But there’s been evidence he comes out while I’m gone or asleep.  He’s already used the box so that’s a good sign.

Since I don’t wanna add any extra stress or unnecessary noise I’ve refrained from turning my air cleaner on; which unfortunately makes me sicker than a dog, but hurray for Dayquil and Flonase.

I’m still waiting to do the Upper GI.  I think the form just got lost in the chaos around here.  I had another infection set in, same symptoms so the office just called in another anti-biotic.  My temperature had just begun to normalize but now it’s spiking back up to 100 again.

We met with out third electrician yesterday.  He was able to restore most of the power, but it can and will be precarious as we are in need of a new box.

We are ignoring the hell outta Thanksgiving this year; just too much.

Well like Kenny dying in all the earlier episodes of South Park I have to admit that we probably saw that one coming.

They shot me up three times.

NURSE: Ya feeling anything yet?

ME: Well yeah a lil.

Dr. Swartz says to hit me again and then once more and then he said, “Well let’s just go for it.”

Yeah I was awake again, but it wasn’t as bad.  I dunno if I’m just used to it, but I didn’t even remotely cough, sputter or fight the endoscope like I have in the past.  Every once in awhile I’d have to swallow and do a lil gurgle, but mainly I focused on the lil plastic doo-hickey in my mouth.  It’s really hard to breathe through your nose when your mouth is wide open, but if I concentrated on biting down I could actually do it.  Although I must admit my favorite part was when he pulled the incredibly long thing outta me.  In fact I said so, “Oh, that’s always the best part.”  So later on in the car on our way back home I relayed this story to Mom and concluded that I must have a great future in giving spectacular blowjobs.

Anyways I sat right up on the bed and asked Dr. Swartz, “So what’s the verdict?”

His reply, “The verdict is we clearly didn’t give you enough anesthesia.”  He later commented that they gave me enough to knock him to the floor and I’ve just built up a helluva tolerance.

First of all he did find a nasty ulcer in my pouch, but this didn’t surprise me because I had accidentally been out of Protonix for two weeks.  The other news is that while my stoma is the perfect size, my pouch is wider than it should be.  He actually outlined the depth of the pouch with the scope and took a picture.  Once we get full power again I’ll scan it in for you.  

Until I have the Upper GI we have no exact way of knowing my pouch’s capacity, but the visual is enough to prove that they’ll need to operate on it also.  Basically meaning I’m going to need the entire surgery done again, including bypassing additional intestines.  

So I ask Dr. Swartz, “Ok, we do all this then I need to know how to prevent my pouch from stretching again.”  And this was a lil nice surprise: He said that it didn’t stretch.  Because I was so heavy, a lumbering BMI of 80, it made it difficult to precisely make a one ounce pouch; with all that fat in the way they can only guesstimate and cut off as much as they possibly can.

So it’s not my fault after all!  *thumbsup*

But.

Make no bones about it; this is a much riskier surgery.  Dr. Swartz said he wanted to see me after the Upper GI and when I make the appointment to make sure I see both him and Dr. Felix together.  When an incredibly competent surgeon prefers another to be present for the consultation and/or procedure; ya know it means business.

Haha, I did have fun though:  When he said that I patted him on the arm and said, “Well ya know, and this isn’t just the drugs talking, I do like you best.”

Still, this is purty damn daunting.  I mean literally I’m looking forward to doing this entire procedure all over again just slightly two years later, and after all the problems I had before I do have to wonder if I’m flirting with disaster here.  It’s not death that scares me, it’s the major complications that could possibly arise and cause me to become an even greater burden on my parents than I already am.  But surprisingly Mother’s feeling very gung-ho about this and wants to proceed.  I personally keep changing my mind every five minutes.  However, after arriving home I had to play wrangle the Black the Widow who was hanging out in the doorway; bastard nearly fell on me a couple times.  Can’t possibly be much more dangerous than that, can it?

Noone gave a shit about me, but that's alright, I don't give a shit about them either.  So it all works out in the end.

Wow.  Ya know if I really loved getting a tube shoved down into my esophagus I could just buy my own endoscope here and do it daily.

I’m gonna be like Ozzy Osborne at the dentist when he kept asking for more nitrous oxide.

DENTIST: Ozzy it’s already as high as it will go.

OZZY: More!

*Nurse injecting sedative into my IV*: Are you feeling anything yet Elizabeth?

ME: No, more!

I have an endoscopy at noon today in Fresno and we all know what that means: Yup, fasting for twelve hours.  But since I’ve been so upset and bloody tired over everything I just went back to bed today without eating.  So consequently once I awoke I only had a couple hours to eat something.  I was so thrilled because after nearly three weeks we could use the oven again.  I made myself a lil pizza (Margherita style) with those lil crusts ya get at Whole Foods.  Well of course, since I was so hungry and it tasted so wonderful and fresh; I just erped it right back up.  And now I don’t even think I can take drugs to at least knock me out.  What a bitch.

Someday we’ll get our power fully restored.  The last guy turned out to be a paranoid schizophrenic.  The first night he came out he was all nice and smiles; showed us what to do if certain circuits started flipping off again.  Then yesterday he worked on it for a couple hours and Russ just went out to tell him what was working so far.

RUSS: Well we got the kitchen and the back rooms working again, but now the living room and computer room are off.

SPLIT PERSONALITY ELECTRICIAN: What?  Are you accusing me of breaking something?

RUSS: Huh?

SPLIT PERSONALITY ELECTRICIAN: These wires have been disconnected and someone’s been tampering with this box since I was last here.

RUSS: Errr

Split personality electrician guy goes on with his insane ramblings.

RUSS: So can you fix it?

SPLIT PERSONALITY ELECTRICIAN: No you’re accusing me of breaking it and I’m not authorized to do this work.

Then he left; I think I shoulda gave him one of my Xanax.  So now a brand new electrician guy (this will be our third) won’t be here till next Tuesday.  So it looks like another week of hop scotching over multiple extension cords.

At least the washer and dryer work now so I can attempt a decontamination of my room.  Fortunately most of the crap you see in those pictures is stuff I don’t want.  Fuck Ebay, I’m takin all those clothes I don’t want to a consignment shop.  Bastards on Ebay are cheap: A $400 coat and they say, “I give ya five dolla for it.”  And most importantly, Ebay is way too much Goddamn work.

I’m gonna have to call Patches up:  “You stay alive, no matter what occurs, I will adopt you!”

William was adopted a couple weeks back, and this is purty cool; somebody just adopted Grayson.  That’s a good sign that two FIV+ cats have been adopted in just the past month.  Now if only someone will adopt Marley, then I’ll be happy at least for the next five minutes.

So without further adieu, these are my new sponsored kids.

I’ll have an endoscopy done next week to check the size of my pouch.  Then I’ll need an upper GI to check the size of my stoma; sees if the liquid flows right through or stays a bit.  If my pouch and stoma have not stretched then it’s time to consider a more distal surgery.  I know, just exactly what I didn’t want to do.

I didn’t really get a clear example of what Dr. Swartz was suggesting as I was too busy throwing a fit.  He mentioned 150 cm and I thought that meant all he was gonna leave me with and be like a damn duodenal switch patient, but I’m sure that wasn’t it.  Dr. Swartz is 100%, puttin his foot down, adamantly against DS.  

I trust Dr. Swartz and know he only wants to do what’s best for me, and certainly not having me crapping myself onna daily basis.  It wouldn’t be a risky procedure as he would only be playing with the bowel; no pouch involvement.  He also said it was common to for their practice to conduct one of these revisions every month.  It’s never going to be an exact science for everybody.

So hey, wouldn’t that be neat if it turns out it really isn’t my fault?

Still until I see all the test results I’ll have to keep an open mind.  Even though it seems my pouch and stoma have no problems there’s still a possibility, and I may have to deal with other revision options.

Either way it’s rather uncertain and purty scary.  If I bypass another 150 cm what effects will that have on my body?  Number one is that the malabsorption rate will be much greater.  I just had sooooo many problems before with this surgery; it just seems rather insane to tempt fate again.

But wouldn’t it be great to finally get my fun time?  

Risks and Rewards; who out weighs who?

I’m not like most of the patients who have revisions, I’m basically maintaining without large gains.  For example: I had gained 8 pounds since last year when I weighed at the office.  I made it to 285 on my scales and could never break that for the life of me.

I’m envious of Mother; she’s already lost one hundred pounds and still goin strong.  She’s pulling out old clothes she forgotten she had and finding that they fit.  She’s clearly having fun time.  Once again I’d have to say:  I really wouldn’t mind finally getting my fun time.

I’ve gotten to the point now that I prefer not to disclose my surgery in public.  A bystander learns you had surgery over two years ago and still sees a 300 pound gurl; I grow weary of explanations or just drawing a large L on my forehead.

When it comes to seeking guidance, support, sympathy, etc; I’ve always been incredibly stubborn and refuse to ask for help, or share my sob story complete with melancholy violin music in the background.  Unless of course I have ulterior motives or am just being a jerk.  But this is really, really hard.

There's no need to even make a joke about this; the article is more than enough.

From the Associated Press:

VIRGINIA BEACH, Va. - Religious broadcaster Pat Robertson warned residents of a rural Pennsylvania town Thursday that disaster may strike there because they "voted God out of your city" by ousting school board members who favored teaching intelligent design.

All eight Dover, Pa., school board members up for re-election were defeated Tuesday after trying to introduce "intelligent design" — the belief that the universe is so complex that it must have been created by a higher power — as an alternative to the theory of evolution.

"I'd like to say to the good citizens of Dover: If there is a disaster in your area, don't turn to God. You just rejected him from your city," Robertson said on the Christian Broadcasting Network's "700 Club."

Eight families had sued the district, claiming the policy violates the constitutional separation of church and state. The federal trial concluded days before Tuesday's election, but no ruling has been issued.

Later Thursday, Robertson issued a statement saying he was simply trying to point out that "our spiritual actions have consequences."

"God is tolerant and loving, but we can't keep sticking our finger in his eye forever," Robertson said. "If they have future problems in Dover, I recommend they call on Charles Darwin. Maybe he can help them."

Robertson made headlines this summer when he called on his daily show for the assassination of Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez.

In October 2003, he suggested that the State Department be blown up with a nuclear device. He has also said that feminism encourages women to "kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians."

I turn on Mother’s bathroom light and kill the power off again.  Earlier Russ uses the newer microwave that’s associated with the bad circuit and is surprised when he kills the power.  Being the smart one I always use the piece of shit microwave on the good circuit, and yet I flick the switch for one measly lil fluorescent light and the power dies once again; doesn’t exactly seem fair.  

So I get to wander out in the dark where I’m supposed to tap the main breaker.  Here’s what the neighbors got to hear:

*slamming screen door*  It would seem God enjoys sodomizing me daily.

WE NEED MORE LUBRICANT!

I’m chafing.  

Alright, any creepy crawly things out here just come and try it, I dare ya.  Tap the main breaker.  What the hell is the main fucking breaker?  I’m a gurl!  I don’t know this shit!  Oh, that must be it.

.....   more »

Californian thunderstorms consist of rain and one clap of thunder, then the power goes out.

Mom asked me the other day, “What’s Kenny’s problem?”

ME:  What isn’t Kenny’s problem?  He’s poor, he’s stuck inna hoodie, people have trouble understanding what he says, he also comes off as sexually androgynous, he gets killed off in every episode and then rats feast on his carcass.  You know, he’s just Kenny.

I also enjoy doing my Jimmy im…puh…im…puh…impersonation.

If I were a South Park character I’d prefer to be the crazy school bus driver lady or Timmah!

In the lead are Toccara Jones and Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, who will quite probably take the lead when Match Point opens in theaters.  Oh and Kirstie Alley’s fat ass waddles in for a disappointing third.  

Folks are extremely interested in nude pics of Toccara, and one ambitious person even thought they could find her email address.

Here are some other fun things people have searched for:

do people think expunging records is a good idea?
can i lose weight with Xanax
i look up at the stars, and i look at my scars
duggers in Arkansas
hot secretary blog
a mens pink trust me i'm a doctor t-shirt
free fooker
kidnapped victims blog
nip tuck carver speech
positives of eyelash tinting
crush candy and then snort it
866-869-6497
pretend boyfriends
ingredients in tic tacs
old poontang
quit marijuana blog
india money atm blog
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pisser trough
starving yourself for 20 days
imma noise
now i'm a christian poem
poems about starving yourself
heavily sedated woman pictures
masturbating horse
sedated boys
wow uh, yeah have to agree with mikey on that. skittles all the way.
i saw you at the gym blog

I’ve never been impressed by New Year’s, but this year I’m gonna party like it’s never 2005 again.  Maybe ask all my family and friends to give me their old 2005 calendars and have a big ol’ bonfire.

I sat down with Mother the other day and asked her, “Seriously, this has been our worst year ever.  Can you think of another fun-filled year like this?”  There was the year the house burned down, but so many people pitched in to help with the rebuilding and the new house turned out to be a palatial estate compared to the old.

There was the year Mother was nuts and on disability; the year we never did any laundry and just kept buying new clothes.  Still, even though we landed in debt, the shopping was still quite fun.

Let’s see, year I was in the nut ward but still that was temporary.  Year that Grandpa died, but it was also the year we moved out here.

There has never been such a year as this were it was literally one thing after another.  It is a mortal sin in this home to ever utter the phrase, “What else can possibly go wrong?” or “Well it can’t get any worse.”

Uncle JD dies; the last of Grandpa’s brothers.

Mother’s weight gain became increasingly dangerous; she would be out of breath just from a walk to the kitchen from the living room.

Mother’s knee replacement gave out.  She became wheelchair bound and was forced to go on disability.

Allie got sick and I needed to give him daily subcutaneous fluids, pills and anti-acid.

Allie’s failing kidneys caused bladder infections which in turn caused him to miss the box frequently.  Poor lil ding dong Molly loved to follow in Allie’s footsteps and started spraying where he went.  So the entire house smelled like the hippo pool at the zoo around mid afternoon.

I got used, abused and sexually harassed by a 600 pound fat fuck that I pitied.  

Some absolute tit called the cops on me thinking I was gonna kill myself then another drooling reject called my surgeon’s office and told them the same.

Grandma became mysteriously ill and suffered a mild heart attack.

My Aunt went on living.

I was not only Mother and Allie’s caretaker but I had to do all the shopping, cooking, cleaning, keeping up with important crap that Russ forever spaced out, etc

My weight loss stalled and stubbornly refused to budge no matter what I did.

Frequent trips to the vet for Al.

Mother got a surgery date for gastric bypass for April 28th and I had no idea what to do for Allie since he needed daily care.

April 18th Allie stopped eating, started vomiting and couldn’t urinate.  That night we took him to the all vet clinic from hell where there’s living proof that Hitler did infact have a daughter.

April 20th and four days before my birthday I held Allie on my lap while the vet gave him the injection.

I ignored my birthday and we packed up and took off for Fresno for Mother’s surgery.

The night after they rolled her out of recovery she was miserable and in incredible pain.  Because the actual surgery was a snap for me I felt so incredibly guilty, like I misled her, pushed her into this surgery and had made a huge mistake.  I just sat in the chair in her room, staring at her with silent tears rolling down my cheeks and feeling completely helpless.

The next night Dr. Felix tried to kill her.

Once she got back to the motel she was feeling much better but tensions were frayed and I was a lil tired of playing nursemaid.  

Ten days we return to a home that will never see Allie again.

Enveloped by a deep inky black depression and ooops, my medication stopped working.

Agoraphobia weasels its way back in.

Grandfather on Russ’s side suffers a stroke.

Weight loss still a standstill.  

We need a new roof before the rainy season arrives.

Mother finally gets a surgery date for her knee replacement.

One week later Grandfather dies and Russ has to dash off to Ohio

I got brushed aside for a size two.

This enhanced my obsession with weight again and I began to induce vomiting more frequently or refrained from eating altogether.

Mother loses job has to hire attorney.

Her benefits run out in less than two months.

Still gotta write that check to the roofers.

Breaker box outside loses its marbles.

And I’m going to Fresno this Friday to ask about a revision?

 Ok, Ok, Ok, Ok, Ok, Ok, Ok, Ok, Ok, Ok, Ok, Ok, Ok,Ok, Ok, Ok, OK, OK, OK, OK,OK, OK, OK, OK, OK, OK, OK,OK, OK, OK, OK,OK!
 
Where’s that pick axe?

Speaking of, “These types of things always happen to me.”  Did I ever tell you about my second date ever?  Happened Summer of 2004.  First of all he seemingly has no problem with the added weight.  A quite good looking young man who is a law student.  *fanning self*  Oh yeah, I’m definitely getting excited here.

I confide in him that I don’t drive and he had absolutely no problem picking me up.  *thumbsup*  We chose to go to the local Starbucks even though neither of us drank coffee.  Is that not just the cutest thing or what?  

Now I’m not the type of gurl who waits for doors to be open for me and such, but before I even had a chance he was already standing there with the door ajar.  Quite impressive.  Doors opened, gives my order and pays.  So we get down to chit chat.  If you already thought he was one hot commodity you ain’t heard nothing yet.  He goes to the library and brings back books for a senior citizens center.  He also belongs in a program that mentors foster children.

Yeah, by this time my tongue is draggin on the floor.  He was so polite and understanding.  We both talked about our battle with obesity as children.  It was just so nice and easy going; no demands.

I asked him about his success with the dating site.  So he told me about this gal he had met, things were really going quite well for two weeks and then all of the sudden he received an email that asked him to never contact her in anyway again.  So I was like, “What the hell?”  He lamented that he shared something with her that clearly freaked her out.  This gal was a nurse in a children’s Cancer ward, what in the world could shock her?  

He sat back in his chair for a moment and said that maybe he should tell me.  I said that it was nearly impossible to shock the likes of me.  I mean what?  You used to be a woman or something?

He said yes.  Well when I asked that question I was just farting around, but there ya go.  Even my therapist tells me, “This kinda stuff only happens to you.”

But it turned out to be purty cool.  His family and friends totally supported him one hundred percent.  And believe me, you couldn’t tell.  He also showed me his old California license and he made a really homely woman, but hey, he’s quite the attractive guy.

So no, no romance was in the cards, but we’re still good friends; he’s an outstanding person and definitely a person to have in your corner.

I want Patches now.  But the damn roof isn’t done yet and although it’s better, the electricity needs a new part or something.  AND I’m off to Fresno on Friday to see Dr. Swartz, talk about my abysmal failure and revision options.  

Unfortunately I can’t go visit Patches cuz his Foster Mommy is goin on vacation to New Zealand.  I honestly had no idea, I just thought Monica was another volunteer until I read their article about going down to Mississippi, and signed at the bottom was Monica President of AFRP.  Hahahah!  PffffT!  This stuff just always happens to me.

I also need find my room as this is where Patches will be residing in the beginning to gradually allow him to become comfortable.  I personally suggested a controlled burn, but Mom said no.  So I’ve got mountains of laundry to do, but that won’t be happening until the power is 100%

So hurry up damnit and hopefully I’ll have him by next week.

Many thanks to Peter Jackson for raising the bar for ongoing sagas; after all, The Lord of the Rings does kick ass, plus it involves hunky men.

But the rest of you are pushing it.  Case in point: The Matrix; a nerd and conspiracy theorist dream come true, but did it really need two other movies?

Scream, hey that was a fun horror flick.  Why’d you bugger it up by making into another dreaded trilogy?

How many times does Bruce have to Die Hard?

That damn Alien just won’t die.

And the most embarrassing of all: The latest Star Wars Trilogy; so very, very wrong.  Someone needed to set down with George Lucas after the first film aired and explain that if he valued what little dignity he had left and his knee caps then he would trash the two later movies.  Instead he went on to make a film about C-Span and called it Attack of the Clones I believe.  For shame.

Harry, Harry; eventually everyone reaches that dreaded point of overexposure. Taking on an ambitious Septology is drastically pushing the limits of sagas.   

Occasionally a double feature can be successful.  Look at Kill Bill Vol. 1 and Kill Bill Vol. 2, and the Godfather saga before someone had the bright idea to go for a third movie.  Oh Francis, Francis, Francis.  *shaking head*

So very often sequel after sequel is code for: I’m sorry, this is all we got.

It appears while he excitedly watched the Eagles lose he furiously masturbated into severe dehydration, but died with a smile on his face.

Well a gurl can dream can’t she?  Now explain to me again why he’s being suspended with pay?  After his latest antics it would seem that in fact, Terrell Owens must hate money.

I vote we hold his whiney lil ass down and let Donovan McNabb’s Mom pound on him for awhile, then kick him outta the league.

Yes yes, you’re a very talented athlete and I’m sure you’ll be most appreciated.  Oh T.O. can you say, “Oh Canada”?  There’s also the option of arena football.  It’s just like the NFL except it’s smaller and cute, much less popular and much, much less money.

I can see the blue tarp on the roof through my ceiling fixtures.

Because irony is fun, we’ve become one those houses you drive by and say, “Why the hell are they re-roofing the house now?  They should’ve done it back in the summer.  Idiots, it’s supposed to rain tonight.”  And it did.  The weatherman was very wrong; it poured.  Luckily they did put that tarp down so no worries.

Roofing is noisy; this probably isn’t a breaking news story for you, but it’s the truth.  Because the sound is equivalent to a chorus line of tap dancing oafs, I assumed I’d probably have to Buspar Molly.  After all, I had to take a couple Xanax myself.  We have one of those lil cat trees which we affectionately refer to as the “hidey”.  So while the roof trolls were tap dancing their way atop the computer room, I turned to find Molly fast asleep in the top ring of her hidey.  Clearly Moll must be well adjusted.

Cocktail waitresses, strippers and roofers: No fatties allowed, and for good reason.

Wanna hear a really bad and yet kinda funny joke?

Knock at the door
I answer the door
The roofing guy asks, “Are we making too much noise?”

That’s the trouble with company; especially company that goes to bed around eight: No tv, cuz there’s a damn person asleep in every room.  And you can only amuse yourself for so long on the computer.

Alright, let’s browse the news and find something to complain or laugh about.

The Avian Flu; blah, blah, blah.  As long as you don’t bite the head off a duck or rub your face vigorously inna seagull, you’ll be ok.

Hey look!  Anger is good for you, but explosive anger, hostile outlook on life and picking people off from a water tower could still give you high blood pressure.  So watch out for that.

Now here’s one I like:

From the Associated Press:

GREENSBURG, Pa. - A man claims his ex-girlfriend owes him more than $30,000 for gluing his genitals to his abdomen five years ago. "This was not just some petty domestic squabble," attorney Grey Pratt told a Westmoreland County jury Wednesday.

His client, Kenneth Slaby of Pittsburgh, is suing Gail O'Toole of Murrysville. His lawsuit claims the two broke up in 1999 after dating for 10 months and Slaby began dating someone else.

Slaby contends that O'Toole invited him over to her home on May 7, 2000, where he fell asleep. He woke up to find that O'Toole had used Super Glue to stick his genitals to his abdomen, glued his buttocks together and spelled out a profanity on his back in nail polish.

Slaby said O'Toole told him it was payback for their breakup, and he had to walk a mile to a gas station to call for help. He pressed charges and O'Toole pleaded guilty to misdemeanor assault and served six months' probation.

O'Toole's attorney, Chuck Evans, said it was a consensual act and Slaby wasn't permanently damaged.

"This is a case that should have been left in the bedroom," he said.

And not surprisingly, this was the most viewed photo of the day:


Ok, Latin Grammys, nothing interesting there.  Stevie Wonder wants more Grammys and he’s got a purty good shot since R. Kelly is still trapped inna closet.

Catholics around the world were shocked to discover that nude women do exist.

Oh I just like this one too:

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - Inquiring minds want to know. What does President George W. Bush carry in his pockets? Not much, it turns out.

A Latin American journalist at a briefing on the president's trip to the region this week told Bush he wanted to ask the "unofficial" question that he asks all presidents -- what does he carry in his pockets?

Bush magnanimously answered by pulling out a white handkerchief with a flourish and then rummaged around in both pockets.

And finally, showing that he had nothing to hide, Bush pulled both pants pockets inside out. They were empty.

"Es todo. No dinero," ("That's all. No money.") Bush joked in his own brand of Spanglish. "No wallet, no bolsa (wallet)."

He even showed off his Timex wristwatch, but quickly added: "I'm not supposed to be endorsing products."

It’s time for my big secret and stuff!

Now it’s not one hundred percent official, but it’s purty damn close.  And despite everyone downing at least three Vicodin and Xanax shakes a day.  And don’t forget the electricity has lost its marbles.  I mean, all the important things like the computer, tv, and fridge are working, but everything else is having serious problems.  When you turn the oven on, the overhead lights in the living room come on and when you turn on the dryer, the washer comes on.  All I can say is: We’re talented.

So despite the chaos and unwanted guest, I’m happy and here’s why.


This darling boy is Patches.  I always check the AFRP site for new kitties or to see if anyone was adopted.  It was two days before the six month anniversary of Allie’s passing.  I was scrolling down the page and happened on a lil tuxedo cat with green eyes and a pink nose with a freckle on it (just like Al had).  In the picture he was huddled up in his lil bed, looking frightened and here’s why:

This darling, sweet and precious lil guy was trapped (along with his other ten brothers and sisters) inna flooded house in New Orleans  for 3 weeks after hurricane Katrina.  He had to perch high on a bookshelf to stay dry.  Because of the filthy and decayed water, the house became overrun with nasty and life threatening mold.  The house was a disaster and completely uninhabitable.

The Best Friends Network, an organization out of Utah with a 30,000 acre sanctuary for rescued animals, sent their troops down to the ravaged South and worked with the local SPCA to rescue animals, set up temporary shelters and attempt to reunite the pets with their owners.  But Patches family wasn’t sure when their home would become habitable and thus had no way of caring for their cats.  So they tearfully handed them over to the rescue organization.  Best Friends works with many rescue organizations across the country and the pets like Patches were sent to different locations to find new homes.

Well after his ordeal and a 3 ½ day trip to Pacific Grove, poor lil Patches was severely traumatized.  His Foster Mom said he had been shutdown in fear for the first week.  The second week he gradually started to trust and eat a lil food.

Now I’ve been looking at cats ever since Allie passed away, and of course I was always interested in them, but I wasn’t sure if it was the right time.  Also, although she humored me, Mother did not want another cat.  But that night I sat her down at my computer and showed her Patches, and she started to cry.  The next day she kept bugging me to call Patches foster home and get our name in the pot so noone else would get him.  

Ah ha!  I do believe this is the one.

We went to visit him and he was, not surprisingly, a bit skittish and weary of new folk.  He allowed us to pet him, but it was obvious he was still afraid.  So I backed away and just talked to him, and there were a few moments in our conversation where he relaxed and slowly blinked his eyes at me; I saw this as a sign.

Tuesday we went to visit him again and he was acting much more relaxed.  We feed him a lil wet food as this seems to be the trick to him.  While he was eating he allowed me to pet him, then we chatted some more.  When I went to leave he watched me all the way out to the door.

Next week we’re getting a new roof put on the house, and felt we should wait to bring him home until the roof is fixed; didn’t want all that hammering and banging to spook him.

But I feel really good about it.  He’s used to being around other cats and I’m hoping Molly takes to him.  She’s just the sweetest cat and has a very nurturing nature.  I’m just hoping she’ll sense he’s just a sweet sensitive boy like our Allie was, and she’ll try to take care of him.  

We’re purty spoiled around here.  Although we occasionally have our fussiness, the household remains rather peaceful.  Also being 2000 miles away from your family gives you a smashing sense of independence that you would prefer not to be interrupted.  

I pull a Dr. Jekyll whenever my Uncle comes to visit.  My tolerance level for him is about 24 hours; one minute longer turns me into a homicidal maniac.  He is the rudest, crudest, self-centered and loudest person on the face of this Earth.

We are very accommodating hosts and extremely mellow, yet amazingly enough he still finds things to bitch about.  Last night he was in a snit and complained about having cabin fever.  First of all, you’ve only been here three days.  Second, there’s the door and here’s the keys to one of the cars.  Oh no, he’d prefer to bitch.  

We made you lamb osso buco, did your laundry and you’re still complaining.

Another thing he does is ogle and freely shares lewd comments about women.  We’re talking about a 500 pound, 50 year old man with a beard like ZZ Top.  Now he’s always said crap like this and everyone is used to it by now; well mostly.  But honestly, some of the things that come out of his mouth even offend the likes of me, and that’s purty damn hard to do.  I just want to tell him, “Yes, men are attracted to women.  We get it.  You can shutup now.”

Look at this!  I looked great at a size 18.

Anyways Art and Artifact occasionally make reproductions of famous dresses from movies or different eras.

Now Maid in Manhattan is a miserable movie that doesn’t deserve repeating, even though Ralph Fiennes starred in it; someday I plan on forgiving him.  What was the only redeeming quality of Maid in Manhattan?  That dress, and wouldn’t ya know it; Art and Artifact recreated the dress and started sellin it.  However I couldn’t justify $450, including the damn shawl, for a dress that would forever be sequestered away in my closet and never worn.  

BUT!

A couple weeks ago I was browsing their clearance section and there was my dress marked down to nearly $100.  So yes the infamous dress is now in my possession, and at a size 18 it is mildly attainable. 

I can’t believe I’ve lived my life this long without the genius that is South Park.  Now that it’s syndicated I’m forever rambling on about the many jokes until people tell me, “Yes I know, I’ve seen that episode five times already AND I told you about it.”

“I know, but I only pay attention to the things you say that I’m interested in.”  

So it’s all new to me and I love it.  

Chef: Yes, is this customer service? I'm havin' problems with my new television. It sprouted legs and guns 'n started walkin' around shootin' people.

Cartman: Give me your Jew gold Kyle

Stan: We've tried everywhere! Butters, are you absolutely sure we can't go to your house??
Butters: I'm sure! there's no way!
Kyle:    Uh why not?!
Butters: Uh because! Uh my parents are out of town, and I don't have a babysitter.
Cartman: Oh, God-damnit you better be kidding!
Butters: No! I really dont have a babysitter. That's why I'm stayin' at Stan's.
Kyle: This whole time your TV is in a house with nobody in it?!
Stan: Come on, let's just go! We'll kill Butters later!

Kyle: Wow! That's a lot of seamen, Cartman.
Cartman: Yeah, I bought all that I could at this bank, and then I got the rest from this guy Ralph in an alley.
Stan: That's cool.
Cartman: Yeah, and the sweet thing is, the stupid asshole didn't even charge me money for it. He just made me close my eyes and suck on a hose.

Jewish Kid: Is anyone else having problems concentrating on this? I just can't seem to concentrate.
Cartman: Maybe we should send you to a concentration camp.

Chef: Hello there, children.
Stan: Chef! What would a priest want to stick up my butt?
Chef: Goodbye.

Cartman: Butters will give handjobs in the corner for a dollar.
Butters: Sure, I'm good at all sorts of jobs.

Cartman: [strokes the lamb and sets it aside] Hello, Precious. Yes, that's a good Precious. [grabs a basket with a bottle of lotion sitting inside and lowers it down a hole in the basement. The basket stops when it reaches Polly Prissy Pants, which sits at the bottom of the hole] Now it takes the lotion from the basket.
Polly Prissy Pants: [Cartman voicing] Oh please, mister. Please let me out of here.
Cartman: It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.
Poodle: [Cartman voicing] Bark bark bark bark!
Cartman: Yes, that's a good Precious. Okay, now it puts the lotion back in the basket.
Polly Prissy Pants: Please, mister, let me out.
Cartman: It puts the lotion back in the basket!
Polly Prissy Pants: I miss my Mom, mister. I wanna see my Mommy-
Cartman: Put the lotion in the fuckin' basket!
Kyle: What the hell are you doing?
Cartman: We’re playing lambs


The last is my favorite to use around people, places and things that just happen to be annoying me at the moment, “If you don’t stop we’re going to have to play lambs.”  Then I push them into the nearest and most convenient bottomless pit and holler down, “It puts the lotion on its skin or it gets the hose again.”  

I get to go see someone today.  I promise to tell you all more about it.  It’s just right now I have that stupid superstition; if I blurt it out, then I’ll be cursed for all eternity and it will never come to pass.  And that would make me really cranky.  I’m hoping it’ll be official inna few days.  Fingers crossed and stuff.

Remember when I was going off about Feline Immunodeficiency Virus or FIV, and how little is known about the disease to the layman.  So a poor cat that’s FIV+, even though he’s in perfect health, gets passed by thanks to his scarlet letters.

BUT!

Someone adopted a FIV+ lil boy this weekend.  Wanna see?




The following boy I went to visit in person.  As gorgeous as his picture is, it does not do him justice.  He is one big beautiful cat and sweet as he can be.