Anyone who has been within five feet of me has already heard about our Walt Disney World vacation, but those snippets that you catch at the office door or in passing as you try to avoid eye contact with me just do not encompass how great of a time we had. You might be rolling your eyes so far into the back of your head that you're basically taking inventory of your own skull, but please, bear with me and my superfluity.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Monday, December 9, 2013
My Year in Running
2013 was the year I decided to start running more seriously after a decently long hiatus (something close to five years). Instead of running a few miles maybe once a week to make sure that I still remembered how to put one foot in front of the other (In case you are wondering, I never forgot how.) I just started...increasing my mileage, little by little, just as many running experts would advise you to do.
To be clear, by "increasing my mileage," I mean "running longer than one mile and doing it without stopping" because running one mile WITH stopping was basically my M.O. this time last year. Yes, ONE YEAR AGO, I could not run one mile without stopping and hating my life.
To be clear, by "increasing my mileage," I mean "running longer than one mile and doing it without stopping" because running one mile WITH stopping was basically my M.O. this time last year. Yes, ONE YEAR AGO, I could not run one mile without stopping and hating my life.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Movies of My Life
It's easy to look at your life like it's some kind of yearbook. If you keep a journal or blog, you might find yourself cringing at your past attempts to express yourself. If you're a scrapbooker or a devout photo album maker (bless you), then you might also find yourself cringing at your past haircuts. I decided to take a look at my life through movies.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Treadmill Troubles
So, one time I deployed for six months. I know, that is kind of a big deal and I should have mentioned it sooner, but I was too busy eating Oreos. For the most part, it was a great experience. I really had a lot of fun in a war torn country that is full of people who shit in the same water they drink regularly. I worked with amazing people and learned a lot about myself. I realized I'm not nearly as tough as expected, but that that's an OK thing and I can still tolerate a lot of bull crap when it matters.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
This is NOT a DIY Blog
I might not come across this away on the internet or even real life, but I'm actually a nice person.
Like really! You can talk to me, and I will respond - usually with a smile! Sometimes even with a joke. I love a good joke, so I usually feel inclined to share them with people because I like to laugh and to make people laugh and to hear laughter.
I know some psychologist would tell me that I use humor as a shield to protect myself from whatever psycho babble blah blah, who majors in psychology besides bossy people? I just don't like confrontation or yelling. I really don't like yelling actually. It makes me nervous and like my dog, I tend to get gassy when I become nervous.
When I do yell and let my inner Tiger Mom out (it has been known to happen), I never feel better. I actually feel worse, so I try not to yell altogether. About anything. Even when I have to yell across a football field, I'd ratherrun walk (who am I kidding?) to the other side and use my indoor voice.
That is, until I painted my living room.
OK, some background: I like to read a lot of DIY home improvement-type blogs because I like to look at other people's homes and judge their cleanliess, and I am inherently very frugal, so I appreciate projects where I can save a buck or two.
And painting the walls in your own house? That is, like, the cheapest and easiest DIY project you could ever do! Anyone can do it! Some people can even do it without painter's tape and drop cloths!
I fucking hate those people and their God-given Wall Painting Talent.
Why we decided to paint the largest room in our house first, I will never know. Why we waited to start drinking until 10 hours later, I'll also never know and I might regret that most of all.
I grew up doing a lot of different painting projects, so I assumed that skillset would come back to me as we opened up our first can of paint (of FIVE). I assumed very wrong. I also assumed that since these DIY bloggers could paint any room in about 3 hours, it would take us about the same time.
I was even more wrong on that one. In fact, I was so wrong that I was just fucking stupid.
When the first coat of paint went on, I didn't know what to say because the sun had gone down and I couldn't see anything. Then we turned on the lights, and I could see that we needed another coat of paint. Then all I saw was the color RED, and people, we painted our walls gray-iege, so either something was wrong with my vision or holy shit, I hate painting.
During the second coat (and opening of beers), we finally started on the ceiling. We don't have crown molding, and now I know why people want to have crown molding. It's not because they want decorative ceiling fixtures; it's because it gives you a clear reason to NOT paint the damn ceiling.
Nearly 12 hours later, we finally had a finished living room and an appointment to see a marriage counselor because PAINTING ROOMS? That is stressful on a marriage, y'all. I feel like I know where Britney and K-Fed went wrong, you know?
While I admit that the room looks more put together, I don't know if I can look back at that experience and say to myself, "Remember that one time when it took us 12 hours to paint our living room? Fa ha la ha haha la ha ha fa la la la." Because no, it wasn't funny.
At all.
Since then (which was, like, 2 months ago, sorry), I have painted two bedrooms by myself because 1) I don't want to subject my husband to that experience ever again and put our marriage on the brink, and 2) the bedrooms are teeny at 8'x10' cube shapes that actually take only 3 hours to complete.
Painting a room alone in the middle of the day is not exactly my idea of a good time, but I've learned to yell SO loudly and curse the longest expletive-laden sentences uttered by a woman that the builders across the street have come over to make sure I was doing OK.
And honestly, I've been feeling a lot better about these home improvement endeavors knowing that when I have a DIY meltdown, I can just cry my fifty shades of grey-eige to the whole damn neighborhood.
That doesn't even make any fucking sense, but if you've read those E.L. James novels, then you don't understand anything anyway.
Like really! You can talk to me, and I will respond - usually with a smile! Sometimes even with a joke. I love a good joke, so I usually feel inclined to share them with people because I like to laugh and to make people laugh and to hear laughter.
I know some psychologist would tell me that I use humor as a shield to protect myself from whatever psycho babble blah blah, who majors in psychology besides bossy people? I just don't like confrontation or yelling. I really don't like yelling actually. It makes me nervous and like my dog, I tend to get gassy when I become nervous.
When I do yell and let my inner Tiger Mom out (it has been known to happen), I never feel better. I actually feel worse, so I try not to yell altogether. About anything. Even when I have to yell across a football field, I'd rather
That is, until I painted my living room.
OK, some background: I like to read a lot of DIY home improvement-type blogs because I like to look at other people's homes and judge their cleanliess, and I am inherently very frugal, so I appreciate projects where I can save a buck or two.
And painting the walls in your own house? That is, like, the cheapest and easiest DIY project you could ever do! Anyone can do it! Some people can even do it without painter's tape and drop cloths!
I fucking hate those people and their God-given Wall Painting Talent.
Why we decided to paint the largest room in our house first, I will never know. Why we waited to start drinking until 10 hours later, I'll also never know and I might regret that most of all.
I grew up doing a lot of different painting projects, so I assumed that skillset would come back to me as we opened up our first can of paint (of FIVE). I assumed very wrong. I also assumed that since these DIY bloggers could paint any room in about 3 hours, it would take us about the same time.
I was even more wrong on that one. In fact, I was so wrong that I was just fucking stupid.
When the first coat of paint went on, I didn't know what to say because the sun had gone down and I couldn't see anything. Then we turned on the lights, and I could see that we needed another coat of paint. Then all I saw was the color RED, and people, we painted our walls gray-iege, so either something was wrong with my vision or holy shit, I hate painting.
During the second coat (and opening of beers), we finally started on the ceiling. We don't have crown molding, and now I know why people want to have crown molding. It's not because they want decorative ceiling fixtures; it's because it gives you a clear reason to NOT paint the damn ceiling.
Nearly 12 hours later, we finally had a finished living room and an appointment to see a marriage counselor because PAINTING ROOMS? That is stressful on a marriage, y'all. I feel like I know where Britney and K-Fed went wrong, you know?
While I admit that the room looks more put together, I don't know if I can look back at that experience and say to myself, "Remember that one time when it took us 12 hours to paint our living room? Fa ha la ha haha la ha ha fa la la la." Because no, it wasn't funny.
At all.
Since then (which was, like, 2 months ago, sorry), I have painted two bedrooms by myself because 1) I don't want to subject my husband to that experience ever again and put our marriage on the brink, and 2) the bedrooms are teeny at 8'x10' cube shapes that actually take only 3 hours to complete.
Painting a room alone in the middle of the day is not exactly my idea of a good time, but I've learned to yell SO loudly and curse the longest expletive-laden sentences uttered by a woman that the builders across the street have come over to make sure I was doing OK.
And honestly, I've been feeling a lot better about these home improvement endeavors knowing that when I have a DIY meltdown, I can just cry my fifty shades of grey-eige to the whole damn neighborhood.
That doesn't even make any fucking sense, but if you've read those E.L. James novels, then you don't understand anything anyway.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
This Is Me on a Diet
Sometimes, I weigh a lot. Now is one of those times. Normally, I'm OK with this because I support and identify with women of all shapes and sizes. But lately, I'm less OK with this because I'm not active anymore, and I'm putting really bad shit into my body on a regular basis.
People, I am eating my feelings like NOBODY'S BUSINESS, and they haven't been very good feelings lately, so it has been very, very bad (but oh so delicious) food.
Balance is good. Binging is bad. Starving is worse. So where do I draw that healthy line when it comes to what I eat?
This is my inner turmoil:
Me: I really should start eating healthier food.
My Legs: Yeah, I agree. It's a getting a little Jell-O-like down here.
My Mind: MmmmMMmmm, Jell-O.
Me: You guys, I just don't know if I can commit to a diet.
My Mind: Don't call it a "diet" - call it a "lifestyle change." That is the new phrase for diet.
My Legs: It's supposed to be about, like, changing how you live for the better through what you eat.
Me: That still sounds like a diet.
My Legs: OK then, Negative Nancy, way to poop on this party. You're not the one suffering, you know! How would you like to be squeezed into the strait jackets you call PANTS every day?
My Mind: That's harsh.
Me: I GET IT. I eat a lot of cookies and don't do a lot of running, and I see what this is doing to all of us.
My Mind: Speaking of running, you're not very good at that either.
Me: I'm serious. I want to be healthier!
My Legs: Then things are going to have to change. Like, big time. You and I will need to get close and work together.
Me: Um, how close?
My Legs: Super close. I need to be your best friend every day. You need to take me out on hikes and stuff.
My Mind: HELLO? What about ME? I'm the cognitive center of MIND POWER over here. You can't leave me out!
My Legs: You'll come with us too. You need to convince her to go outside.
Me: Ick! I hate being outdoors.
My Legs: See what I mean?
My Mind: Being outside is not that horrible, except for the daily rain, sleet, snow, and/or hail. Oh, and that wind! It's awful.
My Legs: ......you're really not helping.
Me: Forget the outdoors for now. We'll worry about that when the weather finally perks up.
My Mind: Hahahahaha, that won't happen any time soon. We're in Washington.
Me: Whatever. Let's focus on what I should be eating.
My Legs: How about what you SHOULDN'T be eating? Those cookies and pints of Ben and Jerry's ice cream ring a bell.
My Mind: Don't hate on my BRAIN FOOD!
My Legs: You are NOT any smarter with all of those sugary calories!
My Mind: How would you know?! Your piece of the nervous system is NOTHING compared to my labyrinth.
Me: I guess I should stop eating those things, and maybe lay off the pasta, bread, and potatos for awhile too.
My Mind: NoooOOOoOoOOOoOOoOOooooo!
My Legs: Yeah, that's the spirit! Now let's get some fruit, vegetables, and lean meat up in the kitchen!
My Mind: NoOooOoOOOOooOOoOOoOOoo!
Me: Yeah, OK! Let's do this! I can make those changes. It shouldn't be too hard to start eating those things.
My Mind: You won't make it! You don't understand! WE LOVE COOKIES!
Me: We need to LOVE OTHER FOOD!
My Mind: ....stop yelling at me....this is really hard to handle....I can't process all of these changes...
My Legs: You're super pathetic right now. Don't you want to live longer?
My Mind: Sure, but but but but but but but but can't we have one last cookie? Or bowl of spaghetti? Like as a goodbye?
Me: That's not a bad idea.
My Legs: NO! We need to start eating well NOW or else it will never happen!
Me: But if it's our last meal eating like that....we should make the most of it...
My Mind: And we can start eating better any time....like tomorrow.
My Legs: NO!!!! You guys are so - wait, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! Put the Oreo down NOW!
My Mind: She already touched it, she might as well eat it!
Me: Mmmmm, creme filling....chocolate biscuit goodness....om nom nom nom.
My Legs:...........................
My Mind: Mmmmm, sugar high....spike in energy.....om nom nom nom.
My Legs:..........................
Me: This is the best cookie I've ever had.
My Legs:.........................can you at least start wearing bigger pants for me?
People, I am eating my feelings like NOBODY'S BUSINESS, and they haven't been very good feelings lately, so it has been very, very bad (but oh so delicious) food.
Balance is good. Binging is bad. Starving is worse. So where do I draw that healthy line when it comes to what I eat?
This is my inner turmoil:
Me: I really should start eating healthier food.
My Legs: Yeah, I agree. It's a getting a little Jell-O-like down here.
My Mind: MmmmMMmmm, Jell-O.
Me: You guys, I just don't know if I can commit to a diet.
My Mind: Don't call it a "diet" - call it a "lifestyle change." That is the new phrase for diet.
My Legs: It's supposed to be about, like, changing how you live for the better through what you eat.
Me: That still sounds like a diet.
My Legs: OK then, Negative Nancy, way to poop on this party. You're not the one suffering, you know! How would you like to be squeezed into the strait jackets you call PANTS every day?
My Mind: That's harsh.
Me: I GET IT. I eat a lot of cookies and don't do a lot of running, and I see what this is doing to all of us.
My Mind: Speaking of running, you're not very good at that either.
Me: I'm serious. I want to be healthier!
My Legs: Then things are going to have to change. Like, big time. You and I will need to get close and work together.
Me: Um, how close?
My Legs: Super close. I need to be your best friend every day. You need to take me out on hikes and stuff.
My Mind: HELLO? What about ME? I'm the cognitive center of MIND POWER over here. You can't leave me out!
My Legs: You'll come with us too. You need to convince her to go outside.
Me: Ick! I hate being outdoors.
My Legs: See what I mean?
My Mind: Being outside is not that horrible, except for the daily rain, sleet, snow, and/or hail. Oh, and that wind! It's awful.
My Legs: ......you're really not helping.
Me: Forget the outdoors for now. We'll worry about that when the weather finally perks up.
My Mind: Hahahahaha, that won't happen any time soon. We're in Washington.
Me: Whatever. Let's focus on what I should be eating.
My Legs: How about what you SHOULDN'T be eating? Those cookies and pints of Ben and Jerry's ice cream ring a bell.
My Mind: Don't hate on my BRAIN FOOD!
My Legs: You are NOT any smarter with all of those sugary calories!
My Mind: How would you know?! Your piece of the nervous system is NOTHING compared to my labyrinth.
Me: I guess I should stop eating those things, and maybe lay off the pasta, bread, and potatos for awhile too.
My Mind: NoooOOOoOoOOOoOOoOOooooo!
My Legs: Yeah, that's the spirit! Now let's get some fruit, vegetables, and lean meat up in the kitchen!
My Mind: NoOooOoOOOOooOOoOOoOOoo!
Me: Yeah, OK! Let's do this! I can make those changes. It shouldn't be too hard to start eating those things.
My Mind: You won't make it! You don't understand! WE LOVE COOKIES!
Me: We need to LOVE OTHER FOOD!
My Mind: ....stop yelling at me....this is really hard to handle....I can't process all of these changes...
My Legs: You're super pathetic right now. Don't you want to live longer?
My Mind: Sure, but but but but but but but but can't we have one last cookie? Or bowl of spaghetti? Like as a goodbye?
Me: That's not a bad idea.
My Legs: NO! We need to start eating well NOW or else it will never happen!
Me: But if it's our last meal eating like that....we should make the most of it...
My Mind: And we can start eating better any time....like tomorrow.
My Legs: NO!!!! You guys are so - wait, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! Put the Oreo down NOW!
My Mind: She already touched it, she might as well eat it!
Me: Mmmmm, creme filling....chocolate biscuit goodness....om nom nom nom.
My Legs:...........................
My Mind: Mmmmm, sugar high....spike in energy.....om nom nom nom.
My Legs:..........................
Me: This is the best cookie I've ever had.
My Legs:.........................can you at least start wearing bigger pants for me?
Monday, January 23, 2012
I am the Cookie Monster
If you haven't already heard, Western Washington (i.e. The Better Half) endured the Snow-Pocalypse of 2012 last week. Twelve inches of snow might not seem like a lot to you if you're from, say, the Midwest or wherever, but I'm not from one of the lesser states in the union, so twelve inches of snow is a lot to me.
I was snowed in for three straight days, and it was AMAZING. I took advantage of my bonus vacation by reading paranormal romance stories (What? Twilight, hello?), writing and deleting an innumerable amount of blog entries, and watching everything that I recorded on my DVR last year.
If you want to talk Housewives, I am all caught up so let's chat.
What I didn't do while I was snowed in was cook or bake very much because I ran out of appetizing food after about 12 hours. I only had a container of sour cream, random pastas, an egg, wine, and peanut butter in my kitchen.
Oh, and some onions.
It was at that moment when I realized two different things:
1) Domino's delivers, rain or shine.
2) I should never, ever run out of cookies.
I thought I had a well-stocked pantry, but my cookie-less 5-day weekend proved me wrong. Pizza can only sustain me for so long, you know? I was devastated to realize that I couldn't even bake anything chocolate chip or cinnamon sugar related, and I was at the edge of sanity when I discovered that I ran out of Oreos too.
Now that it's Girl Scout Cookie pre-sale season, my hunger for daily cookies might have clouded my purchase because I ordered forty dollars worth of cookies this year.
I know you're probably judging me and the size of my pants, BUT I REALLY DON'T CARE because of the following reasons:
1) I am supporting future leaders of America.
2) I am doing my best to make sure that one little girl scout gets the Top Cookie Sales badge this year.
3) Have you ever had a Samoa? Or a Thin Mint from the freezer? Stuff of DREAMS, people.
4) This will prevent me from running out of cookies during the next snow storm.
5) I stopped weighing myself many months ago anyway, so this will not have an impact on my self-esteem.
6) My husband will only eat the broken ones forcing my cookie consumption tp be subsequently smaller, if by a fraction.
7) You can only get these boxes once a year! ONCE A YEAR!
There are probably more reasons that I could add to this list, but I have been typing this entire post with my new pair of smart gloves and while they're awesome for track pad usage, they aren't ideal for typing. I wasn't really expecting that issue because they're "smart" gloves, but I'm assuming the patent is still pending on the keyboard-friendly pair.
I'll be the first in line for those babies and every blog post thereafter will be composed with them.
I was snowed in for three straight days, and it was AMAZING. I took advantage of my bonus vacation by reading paranormal romance stories (What? Twilight, hello?), writing and deleting an innumerable amount of blog entries, and watching everything that I recorded on my DVR last year.
If you want to talk Housewives, I am all caught up so let's chat.
What I didn't do while I was snowed in was cook or bake very much because I ran out of appetizing food after about 12 hours. I only had a container of sour cream, random pastas, an egg, wine, and peanut butter in my kitchen.
Oh, and some onions.
It was at that moment when I realized two different things:
1) Domino's delivers, rain or shine.
2) I should never, ever run out of cookies.
I thought I had a well-stocked pantry, but my cookie-less 5-day weekend proved me wrong. Pizza can only sustain me for so long, you know? I was devastated to realize that I couldn't even bake anything chocolate chip or cinnamon sugar related, and I was at the edge of sanity when I discovered that I ran out of Oreos too.
Now that it's Girl Scout Cookie pre-sale season, my hunger for daily cookies might have clouded my purchase because I ordered forty dollars worth of cookies this year.
I know you're probably judging me and the size of my pants, BUT I REALLY DON'T CARE because of the following reasons:
1) I am supporting future leaders of America.
2) I am doing my best to make sure that one little girl scout gets the Top Cookie Sales badge this year.
3) Have you ever had a Samoa? Or a Thin Mint from the freezer? Stuff of DREAMS, people.
4) This will prevent me from running out of cookies during the next snow storm.
5) I stopped weighing myself many months ago anyway, so this will not have an impact on my self-esteem.
6) My husband will only eat the broken ones forcing my cookie consumption tp be subsequently smaller, if by a fraction.
7) You can only get these boxes once a year! ONCE A YEAR!
There are probably more reasons that I could add to this list, but I have been typing this entire post with my new pair of smart gloves and while they're awesome for track pad usage, they aren't ideal for typing. I wasn't really expecting that issue because they're "smart" gloves, but I'm assuming the patent is still pending on the keyboard-friendly pair.
I'll be the first in line for those babies and every blog post thereafter will be composed with them.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Thinking About Getting a Cat? Think Again.
Growing up, we always had a cat. Usually, it was a big, fat, fluffy sort of cat that did a lot of sleeping and ignoring me. Maybe I forgot what they were like as kittens because my current cats? They are NOTHING like the cats of my youth. They are driving me to alcoholism with their kitty shenanigans.
That Hermione and Luna duo? TOTALLY BAT SHIT PSYCHO.
Let us count the ways:
1) Cats will steal your money.
True. I have an entry way table where I put down my daily essentials: keys, wallet, phone. I always set these things down on this table. I have never deviated from this pattern because I would lose these things if I did anything different.
My cats have witnessed me leaving my belongings there every day and have shown zero percent interest in that table until just recently. I leave my debit card in the front pocket of my many-pocketed wallet, and they managed to take it out of that pocket the other day.
You know, the pocket that snaps shut.
And then they lost interest in it and left it in their litter box for me as a nice surprise.
2) Cats can break down doors, or at least try very, very hard to do so.
I have tried to let my cats sleep in my room with me, but when I'm asleep, I become a jungle gym as far as they are concerned. I've been woken up countless times to find my cats wrestling on my face.
Now when slumber is imminent, I trick them into leaving my room by turning on this laser pointer thingy (a.k.a. The Babysitter. I hope this thing works on human babies.) and running back into my room.
Once the laser pointer shuts off, they find other ways to entertain themselves including, but not limited to, eating toilet paper, knocking over lamps, and breaking down my bedroom door.
I've been trying to get some footage of their antics, but I've come to the conclusion that they are throwing their bodies against my door with a running start because that is the only way to explain the thunderous sounds that they generate hour after hour.
More than once, I've woken up in a panic because I thought someone was trying to burglarize my home, but really, it's just my cats being insane.
3) Cats will attack anything and everything because they are always on the hunt.
Shoelaces? Prey.
Fingers? Prey.
Hanging towels? Prey.
Toilet paper? Prey.
Chairs? Prey.
Debit cards? Prey.
Something must be hunted at all times. Everything has the potential to be hunted at some point or another. This means that all of your belongings, and I mean all of it, will meet cat claws sooner rather than later.
I used to have leather chairs. Now I have two wooden chairs covered in leather ribbons and white upholstery stuffing.
4) Cats want to get all up in your grill.
You know when you are all snuggled up on the couch watching your favorite movie and reminiscing about your imaginary life as a Disney Princess? (What?) Cats will hone in on your state of comfort and then sit on your face.
Or paw at your face. Or knock the remote out of your hand (see #3). Or sit right in front of the TV blocking your view of Belle singing about her provincial life. Or lick your hair.
They will do anything it takes to make sure you are annoyed, disgruntled, frustrated, or generally upset, and then they will expect you to serve them because they are assholes like that.
5) Cats are picky as shit and nothing can please them.
Their food will never be fresh enough, especially when they can try to have your dinner. The water in their water bowl will never parch their thirst because there is a toilet they could try to drink from or a sink they could sit in while you are brushing your teeth. Their litter will never clump properly, and they will want to dig and dig and dig and dig into their box until all of the litter has been kicked out of the box.
You can never pet them enough. Cats want to know why you are going to work and paying your bills when you could be petting them. They're all like, "Who do you think you are, Human? Come hither and pet me right away."
The cat toys and cat treats and other cat-oriented gifts you buy for them are never good enough, and they will never ever sleep in a cat bed when they can sleep on top of your diaphragm instead.
In spite of, you know, everything, I do love my cats because every once in awhile, they will sit next to me, purr, and not attack my hand for about 10 minutes straight. It's almost like they're my pets and I don't live to serve them and make them more comfortable.
That Hermione and Luna duo? TOTALLY BAT SHIT PSYCHO.
Let us count the ways:
1) Cats will steal your money.
True. I have an entry way table where I put down my daily essentials: keys, wallet, phone. I always set these things down on this table. I have never deviated from this pattern because I would lose these things if I did anything different.
My cats have witnessed me leaving my belongings there every day and have shown zero percent interest in that table until just recently. I leave my debit card in the front pocket of my many-pocketed wallet, and they managed to take it out of that pocket the other day.
You know, the pocket that snaps shut.
And then they lost interest in it and left it in their litter box for me as a nice surprise.
2) Cats can break down doors, or at least try very, very hard to do so.
I have tried to let my cats sleep in my room with me, but when I'm asleep, I become a jungle gym as far as they are concerned. I've been woken up countless times to find my cats wrestling on my face.
Now when slumber is imminent, I trick them into leaving my room by turning on this laser pointer thingy (a.k.a. The Babysitter. I hope this thing works on human babies.) and running back into my room.
Once the laser pointer shuts off, they find other ways to entertain themselves including, but not limited to, eating toilet paper, knocking over lamps, and breaking down my bedroom door.
I've been trying to get some footage of their antics, but I've come to the conclusion that they are throwing their bodies against my door with a running start because that is the only way to explain the thunderous sounds that they generate hour after hour.
More than once, I've woken up in a panic because I thought someone was trying to burglarize my home, but really, it's just my cats being insane.
3) Cats will attack anything and everything because they are always on the hunt.
Shoelaces? Prey.
Fingers? Prey.
Hanging towels? Prey.
Toilet paper? Prey.
Chairs? Prey.
Debit cards? Prey.
Something must be hunted at all times. Everything has the potential to be hunted at some point or another. This means that all of your belongings, and I mean all of it, will meet cat claws sooner rather than later.
I used to have leather chairs. Now I have two wooden chairs covered in leather ribbons and white upholstery stuffing.
4) Cats want to get all up in your grill.
You know when you are all snuggled up on the couch watching your favorite movie and reminiscing about your imaginary life as a Disney Princess? (What?) Cats will hone in on your state of comfort and then sit on your face.
Or paw at your face. Or knock the remote out of your hand (see #3). Or sit right in front of the TV blocking your view of Belle singing about her provincial life. Or lick your hair.
They will do anything it takes to make sure you are annoyed, disgruntled, frustrated, or generally upset, and then they will expect you to serve them because they are assholes like that.
5) Cats are picky as shit and nothing can please them.
Their food will never be fresh enough, especially when they can try to have your dinner. The water in their water bowl will never parch their thirst because there is a toilet they could try to drink from or a sink they could sit in while you are brushing your teeth. Their litter will never clump properly, and they will want to dig and dig and dig and dig into their box until all of the litter has been kicked out of the box.
You can never pet them enough. Cats want to know why you are going to work and paying your bills when you could be petting them. They're all like, "Who do you think you are, Human? Come hither and pet me right away."
The cat toys and cat treats and other cat-oriented gifts you buy for them are never good enough, and they will never ever sleep in a cat bed when they can sleep on top of your diaphragm instead.
In spite of, you know, everything, I do love my cats because every once in awhile, they will sit next to me, purr, and not attack my hand for about 10 minutes straight. It's almost like they're my pets and I don't live to serve them and make them more comfortable.
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