blog – the world famous katbox

dogs in my laundry

There are dogs sitting in my clean laundry pile. More accurately, there are dogs wrestling in my clean laundry pile. I remember now why it is they don’t get to come in my room unless it’s time to sleep…the growling, the barking, the “what do you have in your mouth? give me that now!” All that, and the wrestling in my clean laundry pile.

“You could get off the computer and put that laundry away,” you might suggest.

I would roll my eyes at your suggestion. I will pause now to do just that…done. I have words to write. I have creative thoughts to think. After a long day at work where my creativity is stifled and smothered, I have words to write. Some here, some in a notebook, some words in emails.

After the words, I need to focus on some positive thoughts, set some positive intentions. I do that kind of woo-woo stuff. I believe in it. Pulling my thoughts out of the dark spaces and into the light of positivity keeps me sane and probably keeps me from punching strangers in the face, so let me think my good thoughts.

Perhaps someday, I’ll think putting my laundry away has a higher priority than a little creativity and some woo-woo mojo, but not this day. Today, there are chihuahuas in my laundry and that’s okay by me.

Leaves suck

Today, I spent a few hours raking leaves and dragging them to the curb so the city can ignore them and the leaves can blow down the street into someone else’s yard. Even with several hours spent on raking leaves, there are so many on the ground and still so many more to yet to fall, you can’t even really tell I did anything at all out there.

The big project was to get the leaves off the back porch. Every time I opened the back door this week to let the dogs in and out, giant piles of leaves would blow into the house. I took that as a sign that I needed to do something and hauled 5 trash cans full of leaves off the back porch today.

I worked some on the mountain of leaves in the back yard with the help of our youngest dog, who is also our largest dog. He is a beagle-dinosaur mix, huge and still growing. He helped me out a lot by carrying the rake away every time I would put it down to carry leaves to the curb. While I was raking, he would throw himself on top of the rake and chew at the handle. He also assisted by gnawing a couple tines off the rake while I was bagging up random bits of trash from around the back yard, and when I was done bagging trash, he helped me out by tearing the bag of trash to shreds and scattering it everywhere. He wanted to make the work more exciting, I guess; no sense in being bored out there!

After I’d had enough of the magic of leaf removal for one day, I thought I’d drag myself back in the house and watch cartoons. Given that I’d been in the areas of the yard frequented by our three dogs, it was important to inspect the bottoms of my shoes for anything fun that I shouldn’t track into the house. Inspection of the right foot was cool, but you know what? Thanks to the glory of my recently sprained ankle, I couldn’t tilt my left foot up to look at the bottom of my shoe! Too weak, won’t go that way at all. To think all this time I’ve taken for granted the ability to inspect my shoes for poop…ah, when I get that ability back, I’ll be ever so grateful. No worries, though; Minime was thrilled (and by thrilled, I mean horrified) to be asked to inspect my left shoe.

I’m sure there’s more fun to be had as the leaves continue to fall…but if I had any money to spare, I’d pay someone else to have all the fun of removing those leaves. That’s some fun I’m willing to pass up.

Street Fighting in Charlotte

So I met up with the Steinster in Charlotte yesterday.

She said, “Why ya in my town, beeotch?”

I said, “Wahlberg. Donnie Wahlberg.”

She said, “He’s a wuss.”

The Steinster was frozen to the core by the icy stare I gave her as I said through clenched teeth, “You did not just disrespect a Wahlberg in front of me.”

And then it was on, street fighting right there on Trade Street.

I went all ninja on the Steinster for talking smack about my favorite New Kid. I flew through the air sideways and kicked her in the head with both feet. She recovered quickly and brought a roundhouse kick to my spleen. I barfed my peanut M&Ms on her suede boots and hurled throwing stars at her in rapid-fire succession. The Steinster was swift and cat-like, dodging the stars, catching the last one in her teeth and spitting it back at me…I ducked, rolled and kicked her feet out from under her just as the throwing star hit my Donnie Wahlberg in the rattail, killing him not quite instantly…he did have time to whisper to me as I cradled him in my arms right there in front of Baskin Robbins, “Kat, I’ll be lovin’ you forever, ’cause you got the right stuff, love the way you turn me on, cover girl” before he went to join the great boy band in the sky, disappearing into the ether in a cloud of bubble gum scented smoke, leaving behind only a black jelly bracelet on the sidewalk.

I slipped on the bracelet, then wiped a tear from my cheek. I turned to the Steinster and said, “The world has lost a cultural icon and I have lost my reason to stay on the right side of the law. I’ll be back for you when you least expect it.”

As I strode off into the sunset, I knew that Step By Step, I had to keep Hangin’ Tough.

(ok, so that’s not really what happened exactly and precisely. no wahlbergs were harmed, thank goodness! chiquita and i did see the steinster and her man friend in charlotte and we had some very very small food and it was fun! i was there to see donnie wahlberg, that much was true, i came to see him shake his moneymaker and indeed he did, oh yes he did, and all is right in the world. but i could go ninja on you at any time, so keep your anti-wahlberg talk to yourselves, folks)

Hanging My Head Out the Car Window

Generally speaking, I can drink vast, huge, ridiculous amounts of alcohol without getting sick or hungover. This is not bragging, it just is one of those things. Consider what I drank for my birthday this year for example–wasn’t sick the next day, was up and at ’em quite bright and early in fact. Was chatting with someone today and the subject of drinking copious amounts came up…and I said I seldom get sick or anything like that…but that reminded me of hanging my head out Chiquita’s car window!!!

Travel back in time with me to that fateful night! You know what, Chiquita? It’s been more than TEN years! REALLY! Because I was getting my computer programming degree and Minime was just a speck, so like TEN WHOLE FREAKIN YEARS! Anyhoooooooo, so Chiquita and I were out and about doing what we do with the Ninja and Some Guy, and someone decides (probably me, I have been known to be a total dumbass) that we should be drinking Everclear and Tang. I believe the venue we were frequenting called that little number an OrangaTang.

Tang is probably super if you’re in outer space. I really don’t want to encourage anyone to mix their alcoholic drinks with it, even if they are orbiting our planet and are fresh out of sensible mixers.

Anyhoo, I drank this concoction in quantity quickly; my companions gave up on it (smart, smart people!). And then, here’s the part that made the world go blurry, we decide to all start swapping drinks. Drink, swap, drink, swap, the four of us sliding drinks around and around the table until they were all empty. That was a very, very bad idea on top of the Tang and Everclear.

But I distinctly recall being absolutely 100% fine…until I stood up and really there was no solid floor under my feet, I was walking an imaginary tightrope, all wobbly and out of my mind. Fast forward to the part where we need to leave because I’m convinced death is eminent. My stomach was agitating like a Maytag, my head was swirling.

You ever felt so sick to your stomach, whether from drinking or stomach flu or whatever, that you find yourself praying you’ll throw up soon? Because you know if you can get the evil out of your body, you will feel better. I was in that zone. I wanted the vile mix of I-don’t-even-know-what-everyone-else-was-drinking and Tang out of me and anywhere else. I got hot, so freakin’ hot, and swimmy. Chiquita was driving me home, and I was so hot I thought I was going to melt courtesy of the bubbling cauldron in my gut, so the only thing that made sense to do was hang my head out the car window most of the way home. It made sense at the time. I don’t think I barfed, but I remember that I wanted to very much, and the only thing holding me together was hanging my head out that car window like a dog…a drunk on Tang and who know’s what the hell else dog.

I’m older and wiser now, and I steer away from Tang at all costs these days. Because I stay away from the Tang, I don’t have to stick my head out of a moving vehicle anymore. So that’s the morale, maybe, I dunno: if you’re going to drink, don’t drink Tang unless you’re an astronaut. Which I am not. Amen.

Anaconda

If you haven’t viewed the 1997 cinematic masterpiece Anaconda, or perhaps it’s been many years, I encourage you to stop what you’re doing and go to your nearest Blockbuster to rent it. With a cast that includes Jennifer Lopez, Ice Cube, Owen Wilson and Kari Wuhrer (remember her from the MTV game show Remote Control?), you can’t go wrong!

The idea is that a group of scientists is going to film a documentary about some lost tribe, so they are traveling by boat on the Amazon River, which apparently is home to a ginormous anaconda (or perhaps a family of giant anacondi so there can be sequels, hmmm?). They pick up bad guy Jon Voight along the river (who knew there were hitchhikers on the Amazon?) and then there’s all sorts of mayhem. Not to ruin it for you, but you can pretty much assume that where there’s a giant anaconda involved, most of the cast is going to get eaten by said snake. In real life, when an anaconda eats, they often won’t feed for weeks or even months because their digestion is so slow; in the movies, the anaconda will eat every ten minutes or so in effort to pick off the entire cast, one snack at a time!

My favorite line in the movie is one word, “Bitch!” delivered by Ice Cube when the anaconda just won’t die…I believe it was even on fire and screaming (who knew snakes could scream!) at that point when it was still trying to eat him and J Lo. This is profound stuff. Get ye unto Blockbuster now, and let me know how Anaconda has changed your life.

busy freakin’ day…so let’s do a survey

I need a break…so I’ll pause and fill out this survey from Ricardo Allejandro of the High Mountains.

The last person you kissed needs you at 3AM, would you go?
Hell to the yes.

When was the last time you wanted to punch someone in their face?
pretty much all day every day, some days it’s just easier to stifle the urge

Who did you hangout with last night?
Charter Tech Support by phone…we’re pals.

Do you miss your past?
Nah, past makes us who we are in the present, thanks for the memories…

What’s the last thing you put in your mouth?
water

Did you ever lose a best friend?
Yes. RIP Chris, thought of you today when I heard Agent Orange.

What are you listening to?
An uplifting little ditty by Trivium, “When All Light Dies”

Are you going to kiss the last person you kissed again?
I take nothing for granted in this life, but if I have my way, sure thing!

What is your current mood
scattered and bouncy, the usual

Something you do a lot?
type

What did you do for Valentine’s day?
wallowed in self pity maybe????

Last person you hugged?
minime

Would your parents be mad if you were in a relationship?
They would love it and hate it all at once in that psychotic way of theirs.

Are you frustrated?
Not at the moment.

Are you tanned?
HAVE YOU SEEN ME EVER?!?!? I am the anti-tan.

Did you hug anyone today?
minime

Are you in a good mood?
yes indeedy

Who was the last person you cried in front of?
in front of? no one that i can recall in recent memory. not a big boohooer, though i have had a few tears of joy moments that I can think of, but still, those were alone, private.

Are you there for your friends?
Am I where for my friends?

Do you get along with girls?
Sure, as long as they aren’t stupid bitches.

Are you the same person as you were at the beginning of the year?
At heart, yes, but a smidgen wiser I hope with each passing day.

Will your next kiss be a mistake?
Well, I suppose that remains to be seen, hmmm?

What were you doing at 8:00am?
sitting in the longest meeting everrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Who/What made you angry today?
nothing so far, since i’ve talked to no former mr. kats today at all

Have you ever bungee jumped?
no, no plans to either, not a big heights fan—not phobic really, just not signing up to test gravity.

Where was the last two places you went besides your house?
work, dr’s office

What’s one thing you’ve learned this year?
Patience pays off bit by bit. Some days I have more patience than others!
What’s something that really bugs you?
those who fail to understand or accept discussions rooted in fact, logic and common sense.

Taco Bell or Burger King?
Taco Bell. I want a Mexican Pizza, no tomato. Fire Sauce, don’t forget the Fire Sauce!

Last time you went bowling?
earlier this year at some point

Who was your last phone call?
work

Are you a bitch?
depends who you ask, I suppose…some would swear I’m a stone cold bitch or very possibly the antichrist, while others would tell you I’m a sweetheart.

Shame on me!

Not 24 hours later, I ended up arguing with Mr. Kat 2.0 again and I blame myself 100%. First, I shouldn’t have answered the phone at all when I saw the number on caller ID; I was at work, I was tired and frankly, I was still irritated at him from yesterday, so I shouldn’t have taken the call. Second, I can’t believe I fell right into yet another dispute when I know better than to even engage in it in the first place.

Here’s a sample of the irrational conversation from today:

Me: It’s your dog.

Him: He was our dog.

Me: No, you had him before we were even dating, before you even knew me, thus he’s your dog. Take responsibility for him. (I’m calm at this point, completely factual. Logic is my friend!)

Him: Well, you kept the storage building.

Me: What? What the f-ing hell are you even talking about? (I’m a little irritated at the new topic, but I’m not mad. I cuss all day long, this use of ‘f-ing hell’ was merely emphasizing that I have no idea what he’s talking about)

Him: You kept the storage building, and that should be mine.

Me: What does that have to do with the dog? (I’m trying to find the logic here, even though I know there really is none to be found!)

Him: I think I paid more for the storage building than you did.

Me: (this is the part where I should’ve stopped the conversation because see how he changed the subject from the dog to something else completely random out of thin air? where did this topic even come from? random topics in mid-discussion to distract me are so annoying, but I know this trick of his and should’ve just hung up) No, you didn’t, I have the check to prove what I paid but I don’t care about the money. If you want it, please take it, move the damn building already! (see, at this point, I’m officially pissed, because his whining about the storage building has gone on for 18 months, and every time, I’ve said come get it if you will shut up because I’d much much much rather have peace than any storage building…but there’s no sport in taking the building, is there? It’s only fun for him if he gets to randomly argue with me about it)

Him: Why are you always so mad at me?

Me: ARG! (the conversation that followed was infused with a ridiculous number of angry obscenities flying from my mouth before I hung up in disgust, so we’ll just sum it up with ARG!)

So. Shame on me for getting mired in the most idiotic of disputes, shame on me for falling for the random change of topic to turn nothing at all into an argument, shame on me. I will do better next time; I will let voicemail pick up…and if I must talk to him, then I will try to keep the conversation focused and calm, not letting him digress into other conversational hot buttons just to stir up a fight out of thin air. Above all, I will be grateful that he’s the only person that I argue so nastily with on the whole planet and I will be grateful that we don’t live together anymore, ever again, hallelujah for that.

Arg.

I have this ongoing conflict with Mr. Kat 2.0 about his dog (his dog before we were ever married, not a pet we got together), and I guess I just have to suck it up and accept that this is my dog now.

One of the 9012 reasons Mr. Kat 2.0 and I are not together would be that he is not responsible for anything…even if it actually is his responsibility, he will play the victim and lay on the “oh, I guess it’s just one more reason for you to hate me, one more thing I can’t do right.” Arg. Whoever you are in my life whether you are friends, family, coworkers, soccer teammates, whatever: take responsibility for yourself, your choices and your actions and you earn my respect, even if I don’t agree with your choices—at least own them and own the fallout that comes with them. Playing victim makes me wanna puke on you.

When Mr. Kat 2.0 and I parted ways, he moved in with a buddy of his and he couldn’t take his dog right away. I was understanding of that situation, knowing he needed time to get some funds together and come up with a plan of action, so I kept the dog for him. He did not pay for dog food or anything else for his pet during this time. When Mr. Kat 2.0 finally moved into a place of his own after more than a year of being shacked up with his pal, I approached him about taking the dog. He blew it off with oh not right now, haven’t even got my stuff unpacked, etc. Ok, still I was understanding, gave him more time. Asked him again, and again… Stopped asking, started telling him to come get his dog. When it comes right down to me being ready to drop the dog off on his porch and drive away, I find out he’s living somewhere where he’s not even allowed to have a pet. He chose to move somewhere that has a no pets policy. Lovely, lovely fellow, that Mr. Kat 2.0, so responsible!

Called Mr. Kat 2.0 this evening and asked what he was going to do about his living arrangements and his dog. He starts in on the “oh, well I’m not there anymore to take care of him, wish I was there to help” passive aggressive victim shit that makes me want to scream. I point out that he deliberately selected a place to live where he couldn’t have his dog, so he should either move or find a family member to take his dog. His reply is the usual “I guess I can never do anything right, you just find more reasons to hate me, I can never fix this” yadda yadda. My reply (at a volume so loud that a phone probably wasn’t even necessary at this point) was something to the effect of if he wanted to do something right, he could take responsibility for something as small as his dog, take the full responsibility and burden of that one situation and if he did something like that, then maybe for one second I could stifle the urge to kick his testicles into his tonsils. This was met with more helpless victim yammering, so I hung up on him.

Arg. Arg. Arg. I am mad at myself, because I knew before I even picked up the phone that he wasn’t going to be an adult…if he were an adult, he would’ve already driven over here and picked up his dog months ago or at the very least, offered to pay for the dog’s food. So mostly right this second, I’m frustrated with myself for thinking that someone who always behaves the same (the helpless victim when not busy being the badgering complaining fight picking bully) is going to behave any differently today. What the hell was I thinking?

I guess I was thinking that I’m tired. I’m tired. I’ve wrangled kids, worked all afternoon and the frustration of that senile little old dog trying to bite me for the 745th time today when I’m just trying to put him on a leash for a walk to keep him from pissing in my house again pushed me right over the edge. And being so damn tired to the bone, I just wanted some help with a problem that shouldn’t even be mine to manage in the first place, so I foolishly called Mr. Kat 2.0 looking for that help and here I am now, even more tired to the core than I was before I called him. He’s not going to help. Ever. Doesn’t matter that the dog was his before we were married. He left the dog, he won’t take the dog. I have to accept that the dog is mine now because I won’t send it to the shelter, won’t give it away to some random stranger in the newspaper—–Mr. Kat 2.0 in this instance is certainly taking advantage of my kind heartedness toward animals, and that, too, makes me angry, that he knows I just can’t make the dog disappear, I can’t do that, he’s managing to still use and manipulate me and that pisses me off. Arg. Mr. Kat 2.0 is not going to step up and be a man, be a grown up, take responsibility because that’s not who he is. I can’t expect people to be who they aren’t.

SMACK IT!

So I had a little more work done recently on one of my tattoos, and I’ll try to blog more about that soon. Post-ink, there’s about 2 weeks of healing where you can’t swim or soak in water (omg, no bubble baths, no wonder I’ve been cranky) and somewhere in that span of time as the area heals, it will get itchy. Crazy itchy. A million ants crawling all over me itchy. Today, I itch horribly.

You can’t scratch your new tat, don’t want to accidentally make it bleed or anything like that that would pull out the color. Can’t put any kind of anti-itch ointment on there that might react in a crazy way with the ink.

When it itches, you can smack it. Slap it. Smack smack smack it.

I’ve been smacking myself so much today I look like I’m having a seizure, some sort of psychotic episode…but gawd, it feels so good!

you should get a gold star for patience

if not a gold star for patience, maybe like a special hat you could wear. or a sash.

i swear if anyone called me and launched into a conversation about how they took some quiz online and wanted to delve deeply into the profound life-altering multiple choice meanings, i would hang up…and then tear the f-ing phone out of the wall. your patience is astounding.

and it further illustrates why i don’t like to answer the phone! don’t answer unless you’re positive what awaits you on the other end.