…I give you a random collection of pictures to look at.
First, Molly, the new kitty, sleeping on the couch…
And also, S, in Ybor City, handcuffed to a wall…
Okay, so.
The weekend started innocently enough. Saturday, zensidhe and fangly celebrated the anniversary of their creation in some sinister government laboratory and their birth, respectively; the theme of the party was “Mad Scientist,” which afforded many photo ops I may eventually get around to posting. Alcohol, guns, goth chicks, datan0de in a lab jacket…all the usual things one might expect from a party at zensidhe‘s place.
Now, ordinarily, a party at zensidhe‘s place would provide enough material for several LiveJournal entries, not to mention a couple police reports and a sexual escapade or two of the kind that creates moments you look back on later and plow into a parked car. Sunday, though, brought something that has distracted Shelly and I since, so I can’t really post appropriately about the party.
“What did Sunday bring?” I hear you ask. Well, thanks for asking! Sunday brought this:
Shelly and I went for a walk in the park late Sunday evening. This particular park is in downtown Tampa, and while we were on the back stretch of the park, we heard a meowing behind us. We turn around, and this kitty comes running at us as fast as her little kitty legs will carry her, and launches herself into Shelly’s arms, purring madly. She was skinny to the point of being gaunt and very dirty, and we didn’t have the heart to leave her. We carried her the three quarters of a mile or so to the car, and she never protested except to hiss and spit whenever anyone else walked by. Kind of weird.
Now, I was worried that our other cat, Snow Crash, would cause a big problem. We rescued him as a kitten last Christmas (what is it with national holidays and cats with us???!!), anbd he’s quite aggressive and playful. I needn’t have worried. As soon as we got home, the new cat proceeded to terrorize the living bejeezus out of Snow Crash, even though he’s eleven pounds to her five. We named her “Molly,” after the character in William Gibson’s Neuromancer.
And…and…and…
It looks like she’s pregnant(!).
Monday, Shelly and S and I went to Orlando to visit with S‘s other boyfriend and to connect with nihilus, phyrra, and some friends of theirs for dinner and fireworks. The dinner was good, the fireworks were spectacular, I got one of the very few good pictures I have of S:
And I promised tits in the title. Since everyone1 knows the only way to get people to read large swaths of text is to offer them tits, without further ado, I present phyrra at zensidhe‘s party:
Look! Tits! (Borderline not-safe-for-work, depending on how liberal your work environment is)
So while i was in the shower this morning afternoon preparing to head over to phyrra and nihilus‘ place, the cat came into the bathroom, hopped into the shower, and started rubbing against my legs and purring, apparently completely oblivious to the fact that he was getting wet.
When we first got him, he used to meow, loudly and piteously, at three o’clock in the morning. We tried to break him of the habit with a squirt gun. It didn’t work. Water holds no fear for the little guy whatsoever.
I’m glad he outgrew the meowing thing on his own.
…at least not at the godawful hour of ugh o’clock in the morning, when one has staggered out of bed after a couple hours’ sleep and faces an hour and forty-minute drive to an indescribably dull trade show in Orlando on behalf of a client.
But there it was, staring up at me from the lid of a bottle of Snapple:
The starfish is the only animal that can turn its stomach inside out.
Ugh. Thank you, Snapple. Exactly the vision I needed in my head to ease the pain of a way too early morning.
“That’s a definitional issue. The solution to the equation ‘y squared equals negative one’ is not a real number by definition.” I actually got to say that in the course of conversation today. 🙂
Snow Crash seems to have recovered from the trauma of his trip to the vets quite nicely, though being neutered doesn’t seem so far to have made the slightest difference in his personality; he’s just as frisky and playful as ever.
At least somebody’s having fun this weekend…
So. We’re deciding if we want to keep him.
Cons:
– Pet deposit.
– Moving to Atlanta soon.
– Vet bills and other expenses.
– He’s very…talkative.
It started ordinary enough. We played a little World of Warcraft, then S and her boyfriend came over and we watched some movies.
I someehow missed out on all the 80s teen flicks, even though I was an 80s teen, so Shelly decided we should watch Heathers. It’s a typical 80s teen flick, only with more psychotic behavior and a higher body count. Heathers is kinda like Reservoir Dogs, only it takes place in a high school, there’s no jewel heist, there’s no policeman hostage, nobody’s ear gets cut off, the dialog is completely different, there’s no warehouse, the characters aren’t named after colors, not as many people die, and it wasn’t written by Quentin Tarantino.
We also watched the movie Adaptation, which is a film about the making of the movie Adaptation.
Then the Christmas kitty showed up.
For the past couple nights, I’ve been hearing a cat crying somewhere outside the window. Shelly and I have looked for it several times, without any success, which sucks because it’s been cold and wet and rainty and miserable for days, and there’s nothing more heartbreaking than the sound of a miserable, frightened cat. As S and M were leaving last night, they finally spotted the cat–on the third-story roof of the apartment next door. Apparently it climbed a tree, dropped onto the roof from an overhead branch, and then got stuck.
We couldn’t get up to it, and we couldn’t get the animal rescue emergency hotline to respomd, so we tossed some tuna fish onto the roof (which made the cat deliriously happy), then the four of us stayed up ’til 3 AM trying to figure out how to get the poor thing down. We finally called it a wash when we struck out trying to reach maintenance, the non-emergency fire/rescue number, animal control, and anyone else who might have a three-story ladder, which was disheartening because it stormed something fierce after we went back inside. This morning, Shelly knocked on the neighbor’s door, who finally rescued the cat through the top-floor window.
So the cat was hungry, cold, and frightened but seems none the worse for all that.
Today; hanging out with the Smoosh, and more World of Warcraft.
