Time to Get a Cat

OK, yeah, I think it's time to get a cat.

Not like I need a cat or anything. But I do love cats and have in fact had many a feline companion in my day.

My first cat, at least the first one that I can recall after pouring over the vast recesses of my aging mind, was named Brutus. Not because I liked the name Brutus or anything. Let's face it: I was like 10 at the time, and what 10 year old would come up with a name like Brutus? It was because my mom named the cat. Guess she figured that since she was letting me have a cat in the first place, it'd only be fair that she get to name him too.  Mom has always loved books and history, so I think the name was born out of that. It was a cool name. And much better than anything I'd have come up with (he was a black cat, so I think I was wanting to call him Blackie. So unoriginal).

Oh, and my sister got a cat that day too. His name? Waldo. Although, come to think of it, I think my mom actually named him something else, but my sister decided to go with Waldo instead...after Waldo Kitty, you know, the star of the ever-so-popular 70's cartoon, The Secret Lives of Waldo Kitty. How's that for cat-naming efficacy? Or maybe Mom did name him Waldo? I'm not even sure anymore. Stupid brain anyway.

Later on, long after Brutus and Waldo were gone, when my sister and I hit our early teens, we got two Siamese cats. And yet again, Mom chose the names: Cleo and Patra. I don't think any name explanation is necessary there. They were both awesome and beautiful cats. Cleo was the best though,  with his chocolate face and darker coat and bright blue eyes--and his friendly disposition, he was a shoe-in for the fave. And he was Mom's personal favorite too. She didn't much care for Patra, and made no secret about her feelings either (though I don't think Patra much cared either way, and they just each kind of avoided the other).  I always considered Cleo to be my cat, since he pretty much lived in my room, and you could usually find him perched atop my television, right between my Garfield and Odie stuff animals.  But Mom also considered Cleo to be her cat. So that was interesting.

[She also considered my first car, a 1966 Mustang that my dad bought me, to be her car, even though Dad pulled me aside after buying it and told me it was, um, mine.  But I digress.] ;)

So fast forward to many married years later, and we arrive at the era of Miss Kitty. She was a stray that arrived at our back porch one day and my daughter asked if we could keep her. So then I was forced to choose between my one and only child--asking me with those huge, sad puppy dog eyes that no mother can refuse--and my husband, who just happens to be allergic to cats. And even though I'm a logical, rational, semi-intelligent woman, who realized in that very moment that allergies must always trump the puppy dog eyes, what did I do? I let my daughter keep the cat. Lucky for me, the cat lived outside most of the time, so the allergies were a non-issue. But it could have turned out very...ugly. Anyhoots, one day, true to her stray cat nature, she strayed away again, never to return. *sniffle* And we never got another cat again.

But what exactly is the point of my random stroll down cat memory lane? Well it's like this. After Miss Kitty left, I pretty much told the Hubs that since he was allergic, and since it'd be difficult to find another cat that either he wasn't allergic to, or that would live outdoors most of the time (which kind of defeats the purpose of having a cat, in my opinion), then he'd not have to worry his allergen-and-angst-ridden little head about having a cat ever again.

Unless...

He pisses me off.

Not that he doesn't piss me off from time to time or anything, because he  certainly does. [What husband doesn't?] But not usually in any manner severe enough for me to want to get a cat. So that's been my ongoing battle cry  lo these many cat-less years since Miss Kitty's departure. And it usually goes a little something like this...

Me, to the Hubs: Don't piss me off, dude. (Oh yeah, I do indeed "dude" him!)

Hubs: Or what?

Me: Or I'll get a cat!

So the Hubs pissed me off last night, true to his Y-chromosomal-predisposed-and-genetically-challenged nature. (Dang, I sound almost smart there!) The content of the fight isn't even the point, so I shan't air his our pathetically stupid problems here on the blog.

But let's just say, yeah, OK, I think it's time to get a cat.

Or two.

Sticky Note Saturday July 31

It's been an interesting week, summed up nicely in a Sticky Note Saturday ode to Murphy's Law, losers who enjoy cutting people off in traffic, and waiters who are just a bit lacking in the service department.

Enjoy your Saturday, y'all.

My Razor is Evil

OK, I was shaving in the shower, as I am prone to do when my leg hair begins to scuff the living room furniture. And I used my trusty Personal Touch razor, the same one I've been using for the last 26 years, natch. Just as an FYI, that's as old as my marriage, and I often wonder which will last longer: the razor or the Hubs. But anyhoots, the blades on the razor are new...well, new enough to do the job, but not so new that I should have to worry about nicking a vein or something in the process.

So imagine my profanity-ridden astonishment when I'm finishing the first leg, only to look down and see blood running down my leg. Now I must point out that I am extremely nearsighted, and I am too cheap and afraid well adjusted to be bothered with contact lenses, so I wear glasses, which obviously I must remove before taking a shower. So to say that I can see blood running down my leg, you have to realize that it is very...red...blood I'm seeing; not a  blurry pinkish hue that could easily be written off as soap residue. We're talking real blood here, people. And I hate blood, especially  my own, and especially in my nice, clean shower!

Surprisingly though, I feel no pain past the initial nick. You know the pain I'm talking about, ladies...that acid-like burn you can only get when you nick yourself while shaving. The one that makes you want to scream bloody murder even when plain water pours across the slit that is so tiny it would likely require a magnifying glass to see it.  The one that makes childbirth seem like a walk in the park in comparison.  Yeah, didn't have that.  Had lots of blood, but pain? Not so much. So I decided to just continue on and get finished, since there was an In Touch magazine on the couch with my name on it.

And then. It happens. Again.

And this time, there is pain. So any cuss words I missed during the first nicking I made sure I hit this time. I think I may have invented a few new ones too. And I'm thinking to myself, what just happened here? How did I just manage to nick myself not once, but twice? And while I pondered this pointless but still nagging question through the blinding, unbelievable, burning and exaggerated pain, it hits me.

My razor is EVIL.

What other explanation can there be for the deliberate and localized attack on my well-lathered lower extremities? Clearly that razor is evil, or at the very least it was momentarily possessed by some sadistic spirit with an axe to grind against large, naked, nearsighted grandmas who shave in the shower.

Or, um, maybe I was just in a hurry.

You decide.

Sticky Note Saturday July 24

What do flossing, rotten neighbors and wrinkles have in common? Sticky Note Saturday!

Michael Jackson Random Meme

OK, after the rant I just had about The Freak Next Door I decided that I needed a little levity and a reason to smile. And one thing that always makes me smile is a good Michael Jackson Meme! So even though I tend to post the MJ memes on Mondays, I'm going full on crazy and posting this on Friday! {I know, nothing taking a walk on the wild side, eh?}

Now can I get a Hee Hee, MJ style?

Truth be told, the photo of Michael isn't even random. It's a shot from a part of his "Leave Me Alone" short film. So if you watch that, the photo makes sense. But it's still funny. :)

Have a Tinaliciously good weekend, y'all.

7 Questions for The Freak Next Door

Since the white trash wannabe who occupies the tin can trailer adjacent to my house is never lacking in appalling behavior--some of which you can read about in my prior posts about The Freak Next Door,  and  since I just had to call the police in order to get his music shut off and his barking dog put away for the night, I thought it would be a good time to tackle 7 Questions for the Freak, who is the bane of my very existence on an almost daily basis.  So here goes...and believe me when I say, keeping this to just 7 Questions is going to take all the restraint I can possibly muster.

1. Why do you wash your trees? No really, why?! Wouldn't watering the roots make just a wee bit more sense? And while we're talking about the trees, why do you trim the leaves and small branches from the very ends? Um, you're not supposed to do that, smart guy. That's what makes the branches that are growing all wonky--causing you to trim them off at the ends--get all wonky to begin with.  Do the words vicious cycle mean anything to ya?


2. Why do you have a speaker in your garage vent pointing at my house, playing music all day long...even when you're in the tin can trailer watching TV...or even when you have other music coming out your opened bedroom window...or even when you have still other music playing under your "patio"...or better yet, even when you're not home? Well, actually I know the answer to that one and it has two parts: 1) To annoy the crap out of US, and 2) Because you're an asshole.


3. Why did you name your dog, Lucky? I mean, seriously, that has got to be the most unlucky canine in the free world to have you for its owner, which is clearly why I refer to him as Unlucky whenever you are in audible range (which is usually when you're washing your trees).


4. Why is it that on the very rare occasion that your mommy and daddy actually bother to pay you a visit, they never--and I do mean NEVER EVER--go inside your tin can trailer? I mean, 13 years and they've never stepped one foot in there. What gives? Are they afraid of what might be in there? Or are they afraid that your freakdom might just rub off on them?


5. Why are you so obsessed with my husband? Isn't that why you have a video camera pointed straight at his workshop--cuz you like him...maybe just a bit too much? Or maybe you just enjoy seeing my "bird" flash by as I walk past your window?
   


6. Why do you hide behind city zoning ordinances that allow "political signage" to be displayed on private property, while at the same time condemning the city of Defiance as a "bad place to live"  on one of your "political" signs? (And, uh, nice touch with the red, white, and blue bunting, jerkwad. I'm sure everyone who stops to read your signs is thinking to themselves, wow, look at that nice bunting, what a nice, patriotic neighbor we have!)
   


7. Why is Lindsay Lohan in jail for being young, too rich and too stupid, when you are running around scot-free, erecting plywood blockades that violate the zoning laws you tout yourself on your "political signage", playing music for the sole purpose of annoying your neighbors,  and pervertedly videotaping your neighbors too (doing Lord only knows what while you watch them)?!

I could ask so many more questions, it's just not even funny. And it's even more pointless. But I'll just sum it up with one final thought from one of my favorite funny men, George Carlin:

“When you're born you get a ticket to the freak show. When you're born in America, you get a front row seat.”

Amen, brother, Amen.

Glue Tubes Suck

OK, so here is what I discovered is a pet peeve of mine, and that irked me so much I had to go all bloggy about it:

Glue Tubes Suck!

I can't be the only one who has encountered this problem. You buy a tube of expensive glue and use it for a special project. You put it away when you're finished, to use at a later date. But when said later date arrives and you try to use the tube of expensive glue, you can't, because it's clogged. WTH?!

The offending glue tube in my case is E-6000.

This stuff is billed as "industrial strength adhesive;" it's also something that many crafters use because it is supposed to work so darn well...which is why I bought it. At $4 for a tube. This is despite the fact that it states clearly on the package that it contains chemicals that are known to cause cancer in the state of California. Well, hey, lucky me, I don't live in California! So I should be safe enough, no?

Ahem.

And yeah, it is a good, strong glue. Looks all pretty in the package, too does it not? The marketing team has done an excellent job on its packaging too. We know that it's Flexible, Waterproof, Non-flammable, and Photo Safe, and all of these things are very important to wanton craft addicts like myself. But what it should also say on the tube is this:

Will clog after first use, rendering the tube unusable,
and the consumer pissed off and $4 poorer!

And then it should also have a picture of how the tube will look after you've spent half an hour trying to unclog it, causing it to become all wrinkly and misshapen, and so cracked at the sides that the glue begins to ooze out of it all over your hands and your craft project, so that you have to wrap it with masking tape to get it to stop.

And don'tcha find it funny how the top of the tube says, Amazing?! Yeah, it's amazing, all right. 

Amazing that I spent $4 on it. 

Amazing that it clogged after the first use. 

Amazing that I actually devoted a half an hour of my life trying to get it unclogged. 

Amazing that wrapping it with lightweight masking tape actually stopped this industrial strength, cancer-causing-to-Californians adhesive from oozing completely out of the tube and creating a sticky puddle on my work space. 

And equally amazing that I just spent another half an hour of my life creating this blog post about it.

Yep. That's pretty amazing.

The One With the List

Not sure if I've mentioned this before, but FRIENDS is one of my all time favorite TV shows. I have every season of it on DVD. To say that I love it would be an understatement. Could I BE anymore of a fan? I think not.

Anyhoots, I got to thinking about my favorite episodes. There are so many of them, so that's some serious thinking I was doing. But one of them is called, The One With Frank Jr, which I affectionately call, The One With the List. In this episode, Chandler tells the gang at the coffee house that David Copperfield is on Janice's "freebie list," meaning, the list of celebrities she's allowed to sleep with. So the friends start discussing which celebrities they would each have on their own lists. Ross, of course, has to think on it and debate it forever and he gets stuck on Isabella Rossellini. He initially wants her to be on the list, but later removes her because she's too "International." So naturally, who should later walk into the coffee house but Ms. Is, and the best laughs of the episode ensue.  Classic Friends, I'm telling ya.

OK, so I've decided it might be fun to create my own freebie list. I'm sure the Hubs won't care. He might be incredibly uninterested. And who knows, maybe he'll want to give me his own list at some point. But anyway, it's all in good fun, right? So why the hell not?

Now in the episode, they're only allowed to have 5 celebs on their list, so that's all I will have for now. But I figure I'll probably want to change my list from time to time--I'm a girl don'tcha know. It's my prerogative.  Case in point: Mel Gibson. For years that man would have been number one on my list. But now? Um, not so much. {Karma is a bitch, Mel, what can I say?}

So without further ado, here is The List.

Edward Cullen: The Vampire

Now I think it's worth noting here that I've said Edward Cullen, and not Robert Pattinson. I'm talking about the vampire, peeps. Eyes that change color. An appetite for blood. Skin that sparkles in the sunlight. What's not to love? Does this make me weird? I don't even care anymore. [No judgment, please. Ahem.]

Brad Pitt: The Stud Muffin

Now granted, these days Mr. Pitt is constantly sporting a ragged goatee and seems entirely in need of a new haircut...and a stylist. But if you don't find that man sexy, I just don't know what to say. I have no words.  If you need a reason, watch Troy again. That should do it for you. And since we're talking fantasy here, if I'm going to get to sleep with Brad, I wouldn't mind looking like Angelina for a day either!

Nicolas Cage: The Eccentric

It may not be obvious to the entire world, but it's quite evident to me. It starts with his eyes and just kind of oozes out from there--hotness! And I love that he's different, edgy, yeah, eccentric even. He is a bit of an enigma and I'm just drawn to him and have been for years. Need more explanation? See The Rock, Con Air, National Treasure, and Gone in 60 Seconds. He just had to be on The List.

Keanu Reeves: The Loner

He can stop speeding buses. He's the key to unlocking the Matrix. And he knows a thing or two about adventure. So even though he does seem to be quite the loner in real life, he's got that mysteriously-unapproachable-yet-come-hither-look about him. Not too pretty, but not too rugged-looking either. Just a hot, normal guy--who doesn't seem to know he's hot--and who is just as happy out of the spotlight, as he is when he's making a movie that will net him just slightly more than minimum wage.  And you know, 20 years ago Keanu wouldn't even have made it on my List. See how much I've evolved?

Josh Holloway: The Lostie

The only celebrity to take off his shirt on a regular basis more often than Taylor Lautner in a Twilight movie is Josh Holloway. And we are all the better for it. It was just a given among LOST fans that if Josh's character, Sawyer, was going to be featured prominently in an episode, then we were more than likely going to see him shirtless at some point. And Hell, sometimes I think they had him take his shirt off just to please the female LOST fans all over the world, who were only too happy to indulge in some shirtless-Sawyer-skin-flashing against those beautiful Hawaiian backdrops. And as a little bonus, it helped to distract us from the awareness that we were all clueless as to what was  really going on in each episode. Fan Confusion? Cue a shirtless Sawyer, and the collective sigh heard around the world.

OK, well, for now at least, that's my List. And I'm curious now...who would be on your list? Drop me a comment and let me know!

Destiny's Prayer

This is a photo of my granddaughter, Destiny. I'm posting it because it always makes me laugh. I've thought about posting it for Wordless Wednesday, but hey, it's not Wednesday. And the picture isn't super clear since it was taken with a cellphone camera. But since I'm entering it in the Paper Mama Photo Challenge for this week, I wanted to post it here. This week's challenge is, Make Me Laugh.

There could be so many funny captions for this photo...here are a few I came up with. Would love to read yours if you have any ideas.

• "Please, Lord, not the peas...I hate peas!"
  

• "And please bless my big brother, even if he does smell funny sometimes."


• "Please, no more headbands--they are messing up my hair!"

7 Questions for Olive Garden

This is the start of a new feature here at Tinalicious...either because I'm incredibly clever and inspired, or just bored out of my mind. You decide. But the premise is simple: 7 Questions for...whomever or whatever I feel like targeting in a given post. And why 7 questions? Well, that's simple too. 10 questions is too many, and 5 just ain't enough. ;) So here goes.

The Hubs and I ate at Olive Garden this evening. Strangely enough, it seems that many a blog post is born for me at a restaurant. Does that mean I just eat out too much? Perhaps. But at least it usually makes for fun reading too.

Anyhoots, here are my 7 Questions for Olive Garden...

1. When bringing us our oh-so-fattening-and-full-of-garlic-and-other-bad-stuff-breadsticks, why do they always start us off with 3 breadsticks? There are two of us at the table. So it would seem logical, at least to me, to bring either 2 breadsticks, or 4.  But not 3. Not. 3. What gives, Olive Garden? Are all of your waitstaff that mathematically challenged? Or do you actually think we'll eat less of them if you only bring us 3 to start with? Um, think again. If you don't realize by now that most people go to the OG for the breadsticks and salad, then you need to wake up and smell the carbs. We're there for the breadsticks and salad. Everything else is just marinara on the ziti.
   
   


2. Why do you insist on asking us if we want cheese on things? "Would you like cheese on your appetizer?" "Would you like cheese on your salad?" "Would you like cheese on your pasta?" Yes, yes, and yes. Hello? This is the OG. We want cheese! Who doesn't want cheese?. Yes, I do want cheese, if you please. There is no such thing as too much cheese.  [I think I just had a Dr. Seuss moment there, sorry.]
   


3. How come all your sweeteners are in paper tubes instead of rectangular packets? Is that how they do it in Italy, or are you just trying to be different? And don't you realize that because those tubes are never more than half-full, when we open them the sweetener inside has twice as far to travel on its way out, which results in the need to shake it a lot more to get it to exit the tube, which then results in at last half of the sweetener ending up on the table and/or in our food. We don't want sweetener in our food, OG. And if you really wanna enhance the table setting, set out some shakers of Parmesan cheese that we can have at our complete disposal. We're Americans, we want cheese. [See number 2, above, lest there be any lingering doubt.]
   


4. Why is there never enough seating in the waiting area? This one really boggles my mind. Has anyone ever been to an OG where they didn't have to wait for like half an hour or more to get a table? Or is that just my  own personal karmic punishment for being a carb junkie? Regardless, you know it's going to be busy, so how about forking out a few bucks for some extra seating? It is not fun standing oh so close to complete strangers (some of whom have nasty B.O.) on fake-Tuscan-style-cement-covered-floors for long periods of time as we wait for our little buzz boxes to start vibrating. And hey, how about passing out some breadsticks while we wait? Or how about some string cheese? That's Italian, right?
   


5. In what way does music from the Rat Pack era equate with Italian cuisine? I'm always hearing some Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin music when I'm at the OG. And while I am admittedly old enough to remember Mr. Sinatra and Mr. Martin, and have absolutely nothing against them, I just don't get the connection. S'plain, please.
   
   


6. Why do you have a dessert menu? No, seriously. I have never been able to eat dessert after dinner at the OG. And I've never personally witnessed any other restaurant patrons having dessert either. Who has room for dessert after all that cheese and carbs? 
   


7. How is it possible that all the waitstaff aren't completely obese? They have to eat there, how could they not be? It's the Olive Garden! So between all the salad and breadsticks, the pasta, and all that damn cheese, and lets not forget those awesome Andes mints that I'm sure get pocketed by staff on a daily (if not hourly) basis...how is it possible they're not all complete porkers?

So those are my 7 Questions for Olive Garden.

And somehow, I suddenly have a craving for cheese.

Wordless Wednesday Twilight-Perfect Picnic

Today's Semi-Wordless Wednesday post features all the ingredients you'll need for...the perfect summer picnic...Twilight style.

First you'll need the perfect ride.

And then the perfect woodsy destination...

A little bite to eat...

Perhaps a six pack?

A little game of catch the vampire might be nice...

And just for fun, a few sparkles for some ambiance...

And call me crazy, but how about another six pack?
(We can call it "dessert.")

Yeah, I think that ought to do it...everything we'd need for the perfect summer picnic, Edward er, Twilight style.  Not that I'm obsessed or anything. Really. I'm not.

Happy Hump Day, fellow Twilighters!

Sticky Note Saturday July 3

Enjoy your Saturday, my Tinalicous friends. And have a safe and happy 4th of July!