Archive for the ‘Musings’ category

You got a fast car. Is it fast enough so we can fly away?

October 8, 2014

Some days, the universe gives unarguably clear signs where you should or should not be. Case in point, on my ride into work today, Pandora was absolutely rocking it. I mean, she WAS. ON. POINT. For most of my commute, I contemplated why I couldn’t just take a road trip and let her keep on her roll, but, alas, I have obligations. No sooner than I pull into the garage, yet another good song cues up to convince me not to leave. Begrudgingly, I grab my stuff and head in only to be greeted at the elevator by an unfamiliar coworker who had just refilled his enormous cup with (too much) crushed ice and some soda. We waited patiently for the elevator and then rode together to our respective floors, all while I held my tongue and shot him some of the most judgmental and astonished glares. He, however, was oblivious because he was too busy slurping and open-mouthed crunching his mouthfuls of ice.

So remember when we were driving, driving in your car . . .

Never trust a hedgehog to hold your “dibs”

November 14, 2013

There’s a spot in our front entryway where the sun hits perfectly mid-morning. It’s coveted by everyone in the house, both feline and canine, so we laid down an old bed and blanket. The spot (“The Best Spot of the Morning”) is big enough for all 3 cats to lounge with no problem. Unfortunately, Twila has discovered the spot and a silent, passive-aggressive war is being waged (but only for a few hours every day).

As you see, Twila made it to The Best Spot of the Morning first on this particular day. For the next few hours, cats came and went, giving fierce stares.


And the famed “cat back,” clearly conveying disapproval. (There may have also been a cat nap involved, but we won’t judge. Even the best of soldiers gets tired at some point.) Twila stood firm. Or, more accurately, lounged intently, while terrified, but comfortable in the morning sun she so proudly claimed.


The battle had been fought and won that day. But, oh no, this would not be the end of the war. The next day, George made it to the coveted Best Spot of the Morning before Twila could claim her position. There was much pacing and obvious upset from the greyhound who finally decided she would try to take what was rightfully hers. Without upsetting the terrifying cat, of course. As cats often do, George just held her ground. And napped. Unfazed at having to share her space with the enemy (she’s old and uninterested in being bothered by such things).


Days later, Twila has devised a plan! It’s a GREAT plan! THE BEST of plans to thwart those pesky cats and claim The Best Spot of the Morning once and for all! She called DIBS! And she did so in a way only a greyhound could. She enlisted her all-time favorite hedgehog to claim her place. Sure, his grunter doesn’t work anymore and he’s missing the toes on one of his feet from battles hard-faught, but he was up for this challenge. His greyhound needed him and he wasn’t going to let her down!


Except, well, he’s a stuffed hedgehog, and he’s not even the jumbo one. That cat didn’t care one iota.


Nor did the other cats, as you can see. All morning long, cats came and went to share The Best Spot of the Morning with a cute little hedgehog. Because, you see, there’s plenty of room to lounge when you’re a cat or a battle-worn hedgehog (a hedgehog who surely now understands the appeal of The Best Spot of the Morning). When you’re a sad, dejected greyhound who finally has to concede to another battle lost, the most you can do is collapse in the hallway, occasionally gazing sadly at The Best Spot of the Morning.


Embarrassing Lesson of the Day

April 24, 2012

Below is an actual conversation I had with a friend today. Names have been changed to protect anyone who might be offended. Mostly because after a conversation like this, people might not want to be publicly associated with me.

Me:   what are pocket squares?
Friend:   Really?
Me:   You’re making me feel like that woman at lunch who was told by the waiter that he liked the colors in her hair. . .
Friend:    pocket square
Me:    OH! Handkerchiefs! Pocket squares?? Really?
Friend:    Yep
Me:   I use ass squares in the bathroom.
Friend:   LOL
Me:   I feel like some kind of an idiot, but only because someone out there decided to call these things “pocket squares” as if that sounds sophisticated and I had no idea.I wear foot tubes with my shoes.
Friend:    Don’t feel like an idiot. You should almost be proud.
Me:    I know about their existence. It’s the name that’s killing me. It’s as bad as calling women’s underwear “squirrel covers”
Friend:    LOL
Me:    Like, really?? Someone thought this was smart? You know it was some butler just effing with the rich asshole who employed him and everyone just went along.

Seriously?? “Pocket Squares” is really what we’re going with here? As a society, we can’t be so ignorant that not only has the original purpose of the “pocket square” been lost, but also the original name has been abandoned in favor of a matching idiotic term as well. And no one else feels like a fool for using this like it’s a term of art? I think we need a petition to get this fixed. Who’s with me on this? We can even use my “Flashy Picture Box” to cast our votes!

A Medical Miracle

September 4, 2011

The human body is an amazing thing capable of transforming food into the fundamental building blocks of life, growing magnificent hair, and creating the cutest of babies.  Now, thanks to a delightful summer cold, my body has miraculously morphed the 2 cups of coffee I had at breakfast into a revolting volume of mucous. Astounding, I tell you!

Hooray For Lunch?

July 11, 2011

When ordering lunch today, my waiter ever so enthusiastically praised my lunch selection with an “Excellent choice!” (a cheese steak sub and fries at a sports bar). This led me to wonder, what item on the menu would I have to order to get the exact opposite response? Or are waiters just trained to commend patrons on their selections regardless of what they order in the same way a parent applauds a potty-training child for making it to the bathroom even if they don’t quite hit the potty?

And did I just manage to equate ordering lunch at a sports bar to being potty trained? Because the two are nothing alike. After successfully “pottying” I am entitled to a jelly bean and there were NO jelly beans at the end of my meal!