I am going to NY with Laura and Alex! This is very exciting, of course, but I still need to tie up some loose threads. Here we go.
Me: Yay, I finally know what I'm going to do with you guys when I leave!
Gus and Nubs: What do you mean? Where are you going?
Me: Oh, nowhere. Um, look, I bought y'all new mice to play with!
Gus: Stop avoiding the question--where are you going?
Me: Okay, okay, going to NY for a week. BUT, I got y'all a friend for the week. His name is Oscar and he sounds like a very nice man. He'll feed and water you and play with you and change your litter. It'll be like me, except, um, not.
Nubs: Oh, I'm going to get in so much trouble.
Me: Hmm, okay I'll tell Oscar to watch out for you.
Nubs: But look at me! Aren't I cute? Watch me run around on three legs!
Me: Aww.
Gus: I can't believe that worked. What about me? I'm not going to come out from under the bed for a week when you come back.
Me: I'll teach him the tricks of treats and laser pointer. I think you'll be okay.
Gus: But, but, but...
Me: Oh suck it up. So you don't get to play with my feet for a few days--you'll survive.
Gus: How come that one gets all the attention? I don't cause nearly as much trouble as she does.
Me: Hey! You disemboweled my bed to make yourself a cave! You're not getting off that easy. Plus Nubs can't really get in trouble too much. I mean, it's not like she's going to get into the shower while the water is running and run around the apartment AGAIN. I mean, it's not like Oscar is going to be showering here. Right?
Gus:...
Nubs:...
Me: Okay, I'm 80% sure that's not going to happen. Oscar will make sure that all your little toys are always brought out of the nooks and crannies you inevitably put them in, which I don't even do all the time.
Gus: All right, have a good time!
Nubs: Have fun! Take lots of pictures!
Mastercard: Ahem, have you forgotten about me?
Me: Oh crap. Hi.
Mastercard: Do I need to set a budget?
Me: No, no. I've got this one under control. I think.
Mastercard: Do you think, or DO YOU KNOW?
Me: I'm okay. I swear.
My brain: Oh New York is going to be so much fun! There's so much culture there! We can go to museums and wander around the neighborhoods and drink in the history!
My stomach: DUDE WE ARE GOING TO EAT SO MUCH GOOD FOOD. I AM SO EXCITED.
Mastercard: Are you sure you have this under control? Cause, dude, I can't stop this shit.
Me: I'll be okay. I mean, I can't spend too too much, right?
Mastercard: Oh, boy.
My brain: Okay, are you going to exercise? This has become a pressing concern, since Stomach has involved itself.
Me: I'm going to try my hardest. You've gotta help me, you know! This is a project for both of us.
My brain: I'll see what I can do, but you're the one that's going to have to make your feet run.
Me: Wait, isn't that y--
My brain: God this is getting too meta. I'll bring Endocrine in to help out, though. Maybe kick the Endocrine System in to make you fidgety so you'll actually run.
Endocrine: WHOATHATISSUCHAGOODIDEA. IT'SBEENTOOLONG,REALLY. WOOWOOWOO! WOONEWYORKWOO! I! FEEL! FANTASTIC!
Adrenal Gland: I AM CONSTANTLY READY.
Me: See, it'll be easy.
My brain: I worry about you sometimes. Hopefully we'll still have a job when we get back.
Me: Oh. Right. Way to harsh my buzz, brain. AGAIN.
My brain: Want me to put a fun song in your head?
Me: Whaddya got?
My brain: I want my baby back, baby back, baby back, I want my baby back, baby back, baby back...
Me: You bastard.
My brain: Just kidding. How about this? And I feel fantastic. And I never felt as good as how I do right now Except for maybe when I think of how I felt that day When I felt the way that I do right now, right now, right now.
Me: Oh that's fun. I forgive you.
My brain: :)
Mastercard: Ahem.
Me: Let's be friends okay? I won't even take Macy's out; how about that?
Macy's: But, but, we'll be in New York! THIS IS NOT FAIR.
Me: Sorry, dude. MC means more to me.
Macy's: You are so not fierce.
Me: Oh yeah, Macy's, you really know how to hurt me. Will this dialogue never end?
My brain: Dude, you know this is you just talking to yourself, right?
Me: Damn you and your logic.
I am very excited about NY! I will try to twitter all throughout NY about my crazy adventures. So it will be like all my score of followers (SCORE) will know, like, when I eat a hotdog. Man, I really need this vacation.
Showing posts with label gus and nubs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gus and nubs. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
OMG NEW POST
I swear that I will never use "omg" again in my life. And if I do, someone please point it out, because I'm sure my look of horror will be quite amusing.
I haven't felt too talky recently, and I guess that's okay. And, yesterday, after my landlady finally informed me that my August rent check bounced (which I was expecting--also, just in time for September rent, which makes me oh-so-happy), I confirmed that yes, I will be renewing my lease. For the box. I guess I only have myself to blame, since I shut myself off during the crucial apartment finding weeks. I also really, really didn't want to actually move. I'm okay with it, but eh. Just eh. After I get the rent thing situated, I think I'm going to try to fix up the apartment to try to make it feel less dorm-like and more like a place that I can actually comfortably live in. Some organization would be nice as well, and would go a long way towards helping me feel like a real person.
In other news, Gus is turning into a dog. He now demands belly rubs. Frequently. Whenever I come home, grumbling from a long day's work, he gives me a plaintive meow and flops himself upside down on the ground. I don't really know how this started, but I really like it. He's getting to be a very sweet cat, and isn't nearly as neurotic as I thought he'd end up being. Nubs, meanwhile, is getting just plain weird, which I'm sure is my influence entirely. She now has a favorite creepy hobby: watching me brush my teeth. I swear, every morning and every evening, whenever I go to brush my teeth she tears across the apartment, jumps on the toilet, and stares at me. I'm not even exaggerating. I wonder what's so fascinating about my teeth. Maybe she's trying to tell me that I should schedule a dentist's appointment. Naw, it's probably just "Hey. You. Get me my shiny mouse from under the table." They're good people, those cats.
In other other news, WHY DON'T I OWN THIS T-SHIRT? I may have to go to the Threadless store this weekend or something. Oh, and to finish up the Buffy talk (which I'm now totally done with, by the way) I took a pretty involved Buffy personality test last week, and I'm totally Willow! A. Awesome, she's always been my favorite character, since I was, like, 12! B. I REALLY AM SO WILLOW. C. I guess this means all y'all better, uh, watch out? When I eventually snap, I'm going to SNAP. Maybe a vacation is in order.
In other other other news, I'm writing a book! Or, well, trying that is. More on this to follow, but I've got a pretty solid idea, and am now trying to get past the writer's block/horrible numbing fear of failure. Wish me luck!
I haven't felt too talky recently, and I guess that's okay. And, yesterday, after my landlady finally informed me that my August rent check bounced (which I was expecting--also, just in time for September rent, which makes me oh-so-happy), I confirmed that yes, I will be renewing my lease. For the box. I guess I only have myself to blame, since I shut myself off during the crucial apartment finding weeks. I also really, really didn't want to actually move. I'm okay with it, but eh. Just eh. After I get the rent thing situated, I think I'm going to try to fix up the apartment to try to make it feel less dorm-like and more like a place that I can actually comfortably live in. Some organization would be nice as well, and would go a long way towards helping me feel like a real person.
In other news, Gus is turning into a dog. He now demands belly rubs. Frequently. Whenever I come home, grumbling from a long day's work, he gives me a plaintive meow and flops himself upside down on the ground. I don't really know how this started, but I really like it. He's getting to be a very sweet cat, and isn't nearly as neurotic as I thought he'd end up being. Nubs, meanwhile, is getting just plain weird, which I'm sure is my influence entirely. She now has a favorite creepy hobby: watching me brush my teeth. I swear, every morning and every evening, whenever I go to brush my teeth she tears across the apartment, jumps on the toilet, and stares at me. I'm not even exaggerating. I wonder what's so fascinating about my teeth. Maybe she's trying to tell me that I should schedule a dentist's appointment. Naw, it's probably just "Hey. You. Get me my shiny mouse from under the table." They're good people, those cats.
In other other news, WHY DON'T I OWN THIS T-SHIRT? I may have to go to the Threadless store this weekend or something. Oh, and to finish up the Buffy talk (which I'm now totally done with, by the way) I took a pretty involved Buffy personality test last week, and I'm totally Willow! A. Awesome, she's always been my favorite character, since I was, like, 12! B. I REALLY AM SO WILLOW. C. I guess this means all y'all better, uh, watch out? When I eventually snap, I'm going to SNAP. Maybe a vacation is in order.
In other other other news, I'm writing a book! Or, well, trying that is. More on this to follow, but I've got a pretty solid idea, and am now trying to get past the writer's block/horrible numbing fear of failure. Wish me luck!
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
The Universe is Against Me
OKAY SORRY PEOPLE--I DIDN'T KNOW THE DR HORRIBLE LINK DIDN'T WORK--IT IS FIXED NOW! GO CHECK IT OUT. NOW!
First--this is pure distilled reality tv show cliche awesomeness: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w536Alnon24.
Second--WHY IS MY CAT MESSING WITH MY HEAD? Don't let her fool you, with her little chirpy flights of fancy, and her desperate chase of the offensive shiny mice. SHE KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT SHE'S DOING. She likes to play these cute little games, where she pretends she can't walk and pulls her leg up like that one time when she had the infection, and nearly gave me a heart attack. She's a good faker, that one. Pretending not to walk, and chuckling at my deepening panic. She deserved a freakin' Oscar for yowling loudly, when I touched her stump. I was planning on going in to the vet to get more antibiotics, because, you know what, Nubs, I CARE. I care enough to put aside my financial devastation to get you your damn costly meds. I would do that for you. You, however, clearly think this is a funny game, because what do I get when I wake up in the morning? You chasing Gus. You jumping on the coffee table. You running around like a spooked Clydesdale. Well, you know what Nubs, I'M GLAD YOU HAD THOSE LAUGHS. I really am. I even called the vet today to discover my vet is no longer with them, so tomorrow I'm going to get a call from a random vet at that clinic and have to explain that my cat was JUST KIDDING.
Apparently my computer was just kidding too. I'm finishing this entry on it. On Thursday evening, I came home and found my computer cord dead, with chew marks all along it. I couldn't tell if the chewing was the reason the charger was dead or not, so I checked all the connections as well as the wall plug. I changed the plug and everything, before deciding that the cord had lived its life. I got electrical tape the next day in a vain effort to try to mend it, but it didn't seem to work. I've since been trying to deal with the fact that I couldn't have a computer until the next time I get paid, and then I'd have to shell out $70 for another new power cord for a computer that's on its death bed. But, when I came back from work today, the little green chargy light was on! What? Was it sleeping? I don't...I can't...I NEED A MOMENT HERE.
Is my apartment some freakish Lazarus Pit, where living and NOT LIVING things can heal themselves? Am I some sort of prophet? Should I set up a side business where I can let cancer patients just mill around the apartment for a few days until they feel better? Well, I'm not feeding them, I can tell you that.
Or, the more likely excuse, someone's messing with me. I'm ready for your parry, reader, and I can say that I know I'm paranoid. Sometimes paranoia is justified--like when SOMEONE IS MESSING WITH YOU. They want to make me feel crazy so they can disarm me and learn my secrets. Like--well I HAVE SECRETS OKAY.
What?
Why are you looking at me like that?
The computer broke me, okay.
First--this is pure distilled reality tv show cliche awesomeness: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w536Alnon24.
Second--WHY IS MY CAT MESSING WITH MY HEAD? Don't let her fool you, with her little chirpy flights of fancy, and her desperate chase of the offensive shiny mice. SHE KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT SHE'S DOING. She likes to play these cute little games, where she pretends she can't walk and pulls her leg up like that one time when she had the infection, and nearly gave me a heart attack. She's a good faker, that one. Pretending not to walk, and chuckling at my deepening panic. She deserved a freakin' Oscar for yowling loudly, when I touched her stump. I was planning on going in to the vet to get more antibiotics, because, you know what, Nubs, I CARE. I care enough to put aside my financial devastation to get you your damn costly meds. I would do that for you. You, however, clearly think this is a funny game, because what do I get when I wake up in the morning? You chasing Gus. You jumping on the coffee table. You running around like a spooked Clydesdale. Well, you know what Nubs, I'M GLAD YOU HAD THOSE LAUGHS. I really am. I even called the vet today to discover my vet is no longer with them, so tomorrow I'm going to get a call from a random vet at that clinic and have to explain that my cat was JUST KIDDING.
Apparently my computer was just kidding too. I'm finishing this entry on it. On Thursday evening, I came home and found my computer cord dead, with chew marks all along it. I couldn't tell if the chewing was the reason the charger was dead or not, so I checked all the connections as well as the wall plug. I changed the plug and everything, before deciding that the cord had lived its life. I got electrical tape the next day in a vain effort to try to mend it, but it didn't seem to work. I've since been trying to deal with the fact that I couldn't have a computer until the next time I get paid, and then I'd have to shell out $70 for another new power cord for a computer that's on its death bed. But, when I came back from work today, the little green chargy light was on! What? Was it sleeping? I don't...I can't...I NEED A MOMENT HERE.
Is my apartment some freakish Lazarus Pit, where living and NOT LIVING things can heal themselves? Am I some sort of prophet? Should I set up a side business where I can let cancer patients just mill around the apartment for a few days until they feel better? Well, I'm not feeding them, I can tell you that.
Or, the more likely excuse, someone's messing with me. I'm ready for your parry, reader, and I can say that I know I'm paranoid. Sometimes paranoia is justified--like when SOMEONE IS MESSING WITH YOU. They want to make me feel crazy so they can disarm me and learn my secrets. Like--well I HAVE SECRETS OKAY.
What?
Why are you looking at me like that?
The computer broke me, okay.
Monday, June 30, 2008
I Swear, This is What They Do
Given my propensity for attracting random visitors to my blog, I feel the need to say no intervention is necessary. Cristina's not going to kill herself. Or continue to speak in the third person ever again. Yikes. I was doing a satire of what many young people (coughemokidscough) use blogs for. (Although saying it probably guts the joke.) It was lots of fun to write. I'm glad the nameless haiku of my unfathomable inner torment was appreciated. And now, on to more fun things!
My cats are characters, aren't they? They should have their own reality show based on their apartment adventures when I'm not around. In fact, this is what it would be like:
Exit Food Slave.
Gus: Hey, she's gone. Where do you think she goes? I don't think she gave me enough attention earlier. Why does she always pay so much more attention to you, anyway?
Nubs: Buh? I don't think she...OH SHINY MOUSE SHINY MOUSE SHINY MOUSE! I WILL GET YOU. Hey, where'd you go?
Gus: You're not so special. Just because you can't get on the bed like I can, doesn't mean she should pay more attention to you. I keep having to remind her that I'm here. She doesn't get up until 7:30 anyway, so why shouldn't she spend time scratching my ears? I've seen your ploy to get her attention, Little Miss I-Only-Have-Half-of-a-Back-Leg-so-I-Can't-Scratch-My-Own-Ear. It's all about you, isn't it? And your stupid gimpy name.
Nubs: Hey, I didn't name myself. The humans thought it would be funny. Hey, wait, where'd you go? You went into my blind spot. What have I told you about that? And, I really can't scratch my own ear! You're just too codependent. Don't project your personal issues onto me.
Gus: That's it. I'm going to go eat your food.
Nubs: NOOO! Gah! Death from below!
Gus: Grr, nooo! I will bite your tail off. I swear, I will bite it off.
Nubs: Just you try! Headlock! Headlock! I have you now! Come on, say it. Say it!
Gus: No, I won't. I won't. Aah, okay, can't breathe. Spine twisting. Okay fine, MERCY. MERCY. There, are you happy?
Nubs: Haha! I win!
Gus: You're a freak with that deathgrip. Why are you so strong?
Nubs: I'm not strong--you're just a wuss.
Gus: Shut up. Your stupid fur got all mussed up. C'mere. Lemme fix it.
Nubs: Thanks! Oh, that feels good, man. You're not coming on to me are you?
Gus: Nope. Haven't felt anything like that since we went to the vet that one time. We're just good buds.
Nubs: We have a complicated relationship, don't we?
Gus: No less so than those other cats at the first food slave's place. Hey, if we work together we can get those awesome food thingies she keeps on top of that box, which she uses to warm up her poison water. In the food room. Let's do it before she gets back.
Nubs: Okay! How do we---THERE YOU ARE! You thought you could hide from me, Shiny Mouse. But now I have you cornered. I'm going to do a waltz of victory with you around the nap stand in the middle of the room! YOU ARE MINE!
Gus: Forget it. I'm going to go take a nap in my new cave under her sleeping place. Wake me if you find out how to get from the water spout to the cold box. That's the biggest hurdle.
Nubs: Hahahahahahaha! SHINY MOUSE SHINY MOUSE SHINY MOUSE!
I could go on for hours, so I should stop now. Maybe I should try to market this to one of the networks. Bravo would only buy it if Gus were gay, but I bet Animal Planet would be interested. Hmm...imagine the possibilities!
My cats are characters, aren't they? They should have their own reality show based on their apartment adventures when I'm not around. In fact, this is what it would be like:
Exit Food Slave.
Gus: Hey, she's gone. Where do you think she goes? I don't think she gave me enough attention earlier. Why does she always pay so much more attention to you, anyway?
Nubs: Buh? I don't think she...OH SHINY MOUSE SHINY MOUSE SHINY MOUSE! I WILL GET YOU. Hey, where'd you go?
Gus: You're not so special. Just because you can't get on the bed like I can, doesn't mean she should pay more attention to you. I keep having to remind her that I'm here. She doesn't get up until 7:30 anyway, so why shouldn't she spend time scratching my ears? I've seen your ploy to get her attention, Little Miss I-Only-Have-Half-of-a-Back-Leg-so-I-Can't-Scratch-My-Own-Ear. It's all about you, isn't it? And your stupid gimpy name.
Nubs: Hey, I didn't name myself. The humans thought it would be funny. Hey, wait, where'd you go? You went into my blind spot. What have I told you about that? And, I really can't scratch my own ear! You're just too codependent. Don't project your personal issues onto me.
Gus: That's it. I'm going to go eat your food.
Nubs: NOOO! Gah! Death from below!
Gus: Grr, nooo! I will bite your tail off. I swear, I will bite it off.
Nubs: Just you try! Headlock! Headlock! I have you now! Come on, say it. Say it!
Gus: No, I won't. I won't. Aah, okay, can't breathe. Spine twisting. Okay fine, MERCY. MERCY. There, are you happy?
Nubs: Haha! I win!
Gus: You're a freak with that deathgrip. Why are you so strong?
Nubs: I'm not strong--you're just a wuss.
Gus: Shut up. Your stupid fur got all mussed up. C'mere. Lemme fix it.
Nubs: Thanks! Oh, that feels good, man. You're not coming on to me are you?
Gus: Nope. Haven't felt anything like that since we went to the vet that one time. We're just good buds.
Nubs: We have a complicated relationship, don't we?
Gus: No less so than those other cats at the first food slave's place. Hey, if we work together we can get those awesome food thingies she keeps on top of that box, which she uses to warm up her poison water. In the food room. Let's do it before she gets back.
Nubs: Okay! How do we---THERE YOU ARE! You thought you could hide from me, Shiny Mouse. But now I have you cornered. I'm going to do a waltz of victory with you around the nap stand in the middle of the room! YOU ARE MINE!
Gus: Forget it. I'm going to go take a nap in my new cave under her sleeping place. Wake me if you find out how to get from the water spout to the cold box. That's the biggest hurdle.
Nubs: Hahahahahahaha! SHINY MOUSE SHINY MOUSE SHINY MOUSE!
I could go on for hours, so I should stop now. Maybe I should try to market this to one of the networks. Bravo would only buy it if Gus were gay, but I bet Animal Planet would be interested. Hmm...imagine the possibilities!
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