Wednesday, August 3, 2011

The Cat Might Lose Another Life....

See, Mom?

See how diligent I am being in my posts?!

My mother (the queen of noticing unmade beds, finding crusts of sandwiches hidden under plate rims, and gazing steely-eyed through flimsy statements like, "Of course I am not going to ride around in that Mustang with that boy with the long hair without your explicit permission!") is one of my biggest fans. I get friendly little reminders that she's bored of the content of my blog when I don't update enough. And I listen to her. Because the fans shall have what they want! And, you know, she's my mom. Trump card.

I digress.

So, last night was typical Book Club. 7 pitchers of sangrias, probably thirty plates of tapas, three different desserts. Over the years, we have graduated from the $5 wine tasting to spectacular dinners where we always have to leave exorbitant tips because we (a) are loud, (b) drink so fast the wait staff can't keep up, and (c) due to said drinking, have a tendency to become loud about inappropriate topics.

Yes, we discussed the book last night.

I even made a list of questions prior.

Book Club has SOME structure; a free-for-all it is not.

I digress.

Day Three of training, which meant I was up at 5:45am to go to a weights class at my gym taught by a fabulous fellow writer/bartender/fitness enthusiast. This was especially rough given the aforementioned Book Club Dinner which lasted until about 10pm and throughout which wine flowed freely. But I made it through. My body will most likely revolt tomorrow when I go to strap on Ye Olde Running Shoes and discover I have lost the ability to run. Or, you know, move.

In other news, the cat and I are going to have words. I don't understand his insistence on puking. For years, we coexisted peacefully on this subject with a simple understanding: he puked only on hardwood floors, and only where I could easily locate said puke for ready cleaning. Now, all of the sudden, it seems he wants to puke in secret locations, i.e., wherever my poor roommate Jaunt wishes to set her foot.

This has caused her to become very upset when she's already running late for work and has to wash cat puke off of her foot.

This is not bearing well on her already tentative relationship with the cat, who thinks he is incredibly cute and can do disgusting things willy-nilly and expect no repercussions. He and I have had harsh words before regarding his complete inability to think about others. He will usually behave for a day or two, and then, WHAM, puddle of puke on the table by the front door, or WHAM, hairball on the mail.

I have tried to make excuses for the cat. It's spring, he is shedding his winter coat, this causes him to puke more. He dislikes the new food I bought. He is having mental distress due to the federal deficit. I am running out of explanations.

Soon, I'll have to tell him: Jaunt grew up on a farm where animals were not pets; they were working, contributing members of a whole. If he doesn't get his act together, there will be consequences.

That sounds like Jaunt is going to sell and/or consume the cat. I know she would do neither. There is, however, a risk that she might sell and/or consume me, and I am not risking this for the damn cat.

Straighten up and fly right, cat, or we're both going to suffer the consequences. Maybe no more tuna juice for you, hmmm? Or butt slaps. (Show me a cat who doesn't live for a good slap on the butt, and I'll show you a dead one. Seriously. They love it.)

In other news, the big debate this week is whether to go to AVAM's Flicks on the Hill tomorrow night or to see Harry Potter. I am excruciatingly divided. I love FOTH, and it's the closest to camping I'm gonna get this summer. But I'm also jonesing to see the final HP. I've read all the books, seen every movie, and must admit that I am looking forward to this with not a slight bit of trepidation only because when those final credits roll...that's it. Then there's nothing to look forward to until Twilight craps out another glittery sensation or Hunger Games finally releases a trailer. (And both, believe me, will be high points for me and my affinity for young-adult-literature-turned-film-sensation.)

In other news, there's a call out for a short story contest for the Boston Review. I'm tempted. We shall see. Earlier attempts at stunted fiction (as I began to see the short story genre) were not so successful. Then again, a contest creates accountability and a deadline. We shall see.

In other news, 35 days until vacation. I totally purchased the Living Social deal ($27 for a limo ride to BWI from the city - WHAT A STEAL) and so have already raised the bar on the expectations for said vacation. After all, if you can't party with class...I don't know where I was headed with that turn of phrase, but WHATEVER, A LIMO IS SUPER CLASSY. And it sure beats bargaining with friends for a ride to the airport. Oh, the promises I've made in exchange for such...

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