Blog Archives

Nature-Why Is It Quiet When You Are Insane?

How do you get anything done with pets in the house? I have 70 million fucking things to do from spackling the wall to washing my asshole and all I get from them is silence.

The trees are quiet. The birds are bored. Even my half-Siamese has nothing to say except her water tastes like shit and I am a lousy owner. Fortunately, Ken Salazar, Scretary of the Interior (which is where we decide how to kick nature around in the United States)  has struck down developer requests to make a landfill out of something called “The Joshua Tree”.

This is also a very bad record by U2, a band that sucked to start with and then decided to sell out and make a zoo or something. Whatever. They are millionaires and I write a blog. U2 sucks.You suck. I guarantee it.

Got no stories today except the fucking pets are losing it. However, in a little corner of the Internet, someone is working harder than I am to make the news palatable and funny.

Ladies, Roger. Roger, Ladies.

A Day In The Life Of A Retard

That’s me! The God-Damned Idiot I keep on posting about. Apparently, I have said “yes” to babysitting a runt pug dog. It’s fucking cage is right next to me, which is where the dog belongs but I feel like I ought to crawl into it. Know why?

Too many animals in the house. This is such bullshit. One of my cats is walking around with a pair of balls the size of kiwi fruits, and there’s all kinds of dogs in the house. There is one smart animal in the house, the half-Siamese, who is waiting patiently for all of us to die even if it takes 15 years of her life to see that it happens. I’ve got two other dogs; what the fuck am I doing with a third one? I love the people who put it here, but damn, I have enough entities running to and fro who are going to shit in my house today. I would jab syringes of Ativan into my nictitating membranes if I had the fucking guts to take them anywhere besides my ass.

Score: homo sapiens 1, canus guardus 1, canus painus 1, canus runtus 1, feline domesticata 1, feline kiwifruitus 1.

One human, three dogs, and two cats, home alone. I will be chasing two shitting and pissing dogs all day, and making sure neither I nor my other dogs break the pug. When do I get to eat today? What will I do at noon when the air conditioning cleaners show up?

A Brush With Death-The Brush Of Death

If any of you have exotic cats, or mixes that have exotic cat makeup, you know to tread lightly in your house so they do not grab hold of your face and suck the breath right out of your damn lungs.

Dogs have to learn this lesson in real time. When I hear a yelp from my Jack Russell, I know it is because the dog has finally crossed the line in annoying the half-Siamese too much. Jack Russells are whip-smart, but they must learn lessons the hard way no matter what lesson that is.

These lessons usually come in the form of “When I am busy, that is not a sign to you that I am playing.” The problem is that every time a dog gets excited, he always thinks it’s playtime.

There is also a boy cat in the house, who has not been neutered…yet. If he continues to take toxic whizzes in the box, I gotta get the nuts off him. This boy cat is another entity that doesn’t understand the meaning of “leave me alone”, perhaps because he does not know the girl cat’s heritage. It ain’t pretty and black for you, tomcat-exotics are very much in love with themselves. Men never know what’s on a woman’s mind, unless she talks, and then you have to figure out what she is really saying. An example:

Wife: I can’t sleep on this side of the bed. I must sleep on my side.
Idiot: Shall we trade?(I’m looking for the type of spooning that will eventually lead to sex)
Wife: OK. (We trade sides)
Idiot: Hey! I thought you liked sleeping on your right side! Now you are on my left, still turned away from me! What is wrong here?

What is wrong here is that the God-Damned Idiot does not understand the bedroom as a place for sleep. I don’t know how I unlearned how to use a bed, but something in me thinks that a bed is just as good as any place for getting my winkle whacked if I am irritating enough. This has sporadic success, because women are very bored with your need for winky whacking and are hoping it will end quickly. Men have been bothering her for a winky whack for most of her adult life, and this God-Damned Idiot she married is unfortunately just like the others.

Marriage is great if you like being confused and frightened at the same time.

Anyway, my wife managed to get my Siamese to accept scratchies. She even put her ears back in submission while she was in my wife’s arms.

I thought this would be a great time to brush the cat, now that it is calm.

You should be wearing Gortex for brushing the body of an exotic. My girl cat comes for butt scratchies to me, but that is the end of our relationship. I have scratched the queen’s butt, and now I can go away so she can stalk her fuzz floating in the is utterly pointless to continue to brush her. She leaves the room out of politeness for the stupid human.

As I write this, I am being summoned for a scratchie. I have work to do this time. How does that make you feel, cat?

Nothing. I’m the tree in the forest that fell down and no one heard it.

Still, my wife got it to calm down enough, and I thought this was a great time for a big ‘ol brushie, the kind that makes a fuzzball that could be woven into a toy mouse if I had the inclination. I began to brush the whole cat.

Brushing a cat like this causes serious problems. First off, If the cat wanted “brushies”, she knows she can go outside and writhe in the driveway. But I did it anyway.

Our half-Siamese wants total fealty to her all day. But, I thought, she needs a good brushing now that my wife has calmed her. Our cat can only retain its dignity for so long under the brush. Then the cat seems to fall apart when it is near. Mush. Siamese mush when brushed. Most of the time. I got her thru her undercoat with no injuries.

Then, I thought it would be good to brush her underside. Cats are a little sensitive about having their bellies touched, especially from the God-Damned Idiot who is fascinated by the amount of hair bring pulled off her.

The cat became a squid, unleashing all of her claws and attaching them to me and the brush. I am still not sure what I did wrong. Was this happiness or rage? I get worried. The cat gets up and is stalking around me, asking for that thing that I use to keep her pretty. She decided to kill the brush with my hand around it. It became very sensitive, for lack of a better word. We moved something and it frightened the cat so badly that in my periphery it looked like all of her atoms blew apart and came back together as a cat again. I began asking my wife if it was going to crawl upon my head and use her squid method to ensure it is not something she likes to eat. All I was trying to do was help. This is what you want, this is what you get.

I put the brush away. Just another occupant in this house that would secretly kill me sooner or later.


Why Does The Cat Guard My Monitor Like It’s Something I Should Be Protected From?

Yes, it’s a fucking pet post. People who like pets are good people, so no matter how gay they get about their pets, I find myself being gay too.

Please note: if you think “gay” is a derogatory term, you are either a) a straight asshole, or b) a gay asshole who should be stripped of their toaster oven immediately for setting a bad example for other homosexuals.

I am talking about cats! What the fuck, cats? All cat owners know that their cats are aliens. There is a reason why the ancients thought that cats were gods: they are less than two feet tall, but they survey Paradise(your household goods and the house occupants) like mere creations, toys, lesser life, tired of the shit food you offer up, or down to them. You are dimly aware that your cat will be sitting with you when you are near death, waiting to take your withered soul to the Beyond. Or, they may just think you are a big bag of Meow Mix and that there is no reason to waste all this food.

My black, half Siamese girl cat has developed the habit of walking across my monitor, and stopping right in front of it while I am typing. I get tired of typing things like “…and then when the bar closerjgkire25e” because my cat has decided that the monitor is no longer important to me. More specifically, she says quite directly that it is not important at all.

My cat is actually right; like a wife, it is always correct and thinks you’re an idiot. I can deal with this. But I want to address the phenomena behind it. It’s the same damn thing as when they walk in front of your bedtime book. So, we can eliminate the possibility that it is because the monitor is warm, or that they like the feeling of static electricity. Cats jump violently at this type of stimuli anyway, always overreacting to everything, much like the aforementioned wife. So it has nothing to do with the monitor, or the book for that matter.

You are doing something wrong. It meows at you when it stops. What is it saying?

You look around. The bowl has food, the bowl has water. The dogs are napping, so she is not telling you how much she hates your dogs yet again. You’ve been pretty good about the litterbox. What is this furry space entity trying to tell me? Or is it like a Zen thing, where when I figure it out I will have achieved Enlightenment?

Maybe it’s not anything of any importance; humans do pointless things all the time. Is it her equivalent of annoying me, perhaps teasing me? Is it like someone coming up behind you and tapping one of your shoulders to make you turn, look and you realize they are on the other side of you? That shit is not funny; it probably hasn’t been funny for decades. That is the FOURTH TIME you have walked across my monitor, cat. What do you fucking want from me? Catnip? I don’t want to get up right now! Of all the places here for you to park your cat ass, it HAS to be right here. I’m a human, and even I can find many places to go in this small house. This must go 10X for you given your size.

But I’ve got an inkling. I think it’s an expression of concern. Not something big like “You are going to need glasses if you keep staring at this thing!!!!”. They just want you to know they are still available for admiration. And I like that; people don’t love AND THERE SHE GOES AGAIN themselves enough to request attention anymore, do they?

I guess it comes down to needing their little cat butts scratched a little. Everyone needs a butt scratchy, but the cat is the only animal that reminds you that it must get done, it must be done right now, and right here.

%d bloggers like this: