So, as the world's laziest blogger, it has been over a year and a half since I last posted a blog. I think this says wonders about my viewing audience.
I have discovered many things in the last year and a half. First of all, it is quite impossible to work on your BA full time, work part time, raise a small child and blog. Thus, blogging failed. As a result, my child is beginning to mimic me in many things that raises my hopes that she we be just as demented as me. I have also learned that being a Type A control freak does not make the school age years very enjoyable.
My baby is a Kindergartener now. She is in the dreaded public school system I hate myself just a tiny bit for putting her in public school, but it's not really a bad school system. Don't get me wrong, it is public school, but as far as schools go it's not so bad. Momma bear has a hard time with the school at times. I find that stupid people abound in this world and the public schools are no exception to this rule. With as many times as I've had to talk to the school you'd think they'd learn to say my name right.
Seriously. Lank Toe. Remember Home Depot is not pronounced Dee Pot, and neither is my name Lank Scott. Lank Toe. It's French people. Kaitlyn asks me one day, "Is my name Kaitlyn Lankscott?" Poor kid.
She brings home some drawings today. Friday's are the day she brings home all her school work. There's a paper in there that appears to have been drawn by a little boy in her class. In huge Kindergartener letters he writes "I LOVE YOU KAITLYN, ZACH M." Cute, right? Then below this is a drawing of her on the ground and him standing above her on some round thing. The teacher was kind enough to write down the explanation of the picture. Supposedly it's a picture of Kaitlyn having fallen off a trampoline whilst lover boy continued to bounce gleefully. The assignment was to draw someone you care about.
So, Momma Bear's response to this was to be disturbed, of course. What the hell? What, he thinks about people he cares about being hurt? Does this make him happy, how do you relate someone getting hurt to a title "I love you"? Freaking 5 year old sociopath in the making.
Now the reasonable person that is locked away in a small part of my brain knows that this is likely just expressionism and isn't it nice that he cares about Kaitlyn, but the larger more irrational part of my can't help but be disturbed by the child who relates love with injury and classify him as a member of the Future Wife Beaters of America.
Realistically she'll have a new love interest in a couple weeks. She had more so called boyfriends in her first semester of Kindergarten than I had my entire High School and Jr. College years.
Supposedly she's one of the teacher's favorite students. Now, she's my favorite kid in the whole universe, but I can't help but wonder if the teacher tells all her parents that. How would it look if she actually did tell some parents that their kids were little shits? "Oh, you're Keagan's parents. Wow, you've done a really shitty job raising him thus far. He is by far the worst hellion in my class. I couldn't help him with one on one teaching and the world's best educational funds." I suppose that wouldn't work very well for repertoire. Anywho. Supposedly Kaitlyn always does her school work first, then plays happily with the other kids. She does what she's told and listens to the teacher. I fear there may be a little too much Patrick in her. I'm going to have to work on rebellion techniques when she's older. Once, she told a lie to her teacher and her teacher was so freaked out she told the school nurse about it. Okay, so come to find out Kaitlyn really was sick that day. But, still! That's her tell? One lie? That was her acting out? Where is this kid at home? I get much worse than that here!!!
Why do they act differently in school?
Friday, December 2, 2011
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Because these things happen to me....
So, I woke up today groggy and weary with the usual neck pain induced headache. I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings while walking Kaitlyn into the living room. Less than a foot from the living room I slipped and nearly fell into a puddle of kitty cat vomit. Yup. Vomit. It was very gross. I cleaned up the vomit, gagged a bit and went about my business.
I noticed the cat bowl was devoid of water and food, so I filled up some water and kitty crunchies and watched my little man munch. Talk about a mistake! After two bites of crunchies Edwin lost control of his bowels and vomited all over the banister! Horrified, I called the vet.
Three vets later I found one that would take him immediately. They asked if he'd gotten into anything or if I'd introduced him to anything new. I told them I'd put a flea collar on him yesterday. "Take it off immediately! Those things can be toxic to cats!" It was a flea collar for cats and kittens - said so on the box! I took the collar off and washed him in a sink of water and dawn dish soap. I dried him off and loaded the kiddo and the kitty in the Envoy and drove 40 minutes to the vet in Brooklyn, CT.
The vet trip was fine. Nothing too spectacular. They gave him a shot of atropine and told me he should recover. That was when they told me that Edwin was, in fact, a girl.
Yeah, you'd think I'd've noticed that. I've had him/her since March. He's/She's a very furry kitty and I never had any desire to go poking around in his/her privates. I have no obsessions with kitty testicles, so when I was told that he/she had them I went with it.
In retrospect I have a dog who is a lesbian and a cat who miraculously underwent a sex change within 6 weeks. I think there's something terribly wrong with my life... I seem to be animal cursed.
Upon coming home I discovered that the animal sick catastrophe was bigger than originally presumed. I found puddles of kitty diarrhea in the laundry room, the bathroom downstairs, and a small amount on the rug in the living room. I spent, without exaggeration, 2 1/2 hours cleaning kitty pooh puddles and disinfecting my house. The kitty litter box looked like a pooh bomb had exploded in it. Needless to say, I feel extremely nauseous and so tired I can hardly stand myself. This was a bit more excitement than I had anticipated on my day off.
Kitty seems to be doing okay. He's sleeping it off. I keep checking on him to make sure he's not dead. Poor guy/girl. Have to figure out what to do about his/her name now. Edwina sounds dumb and I really liked the name Edwin. He/she may just have to suffer through gender confusion.
I noticed the cat bowl was devoid of water and food, so I filled up some water and kitty crunchies and watched my little man munch. Talk about a mistake! After two bites of crunchies Edwin lost control of his bowels and vomited all over the banister! Horrified, I called the vet.
Three vets later I found one that would take him immediately. They asked if he'd gotten into anything or if I'd introduced him to anything new. I told them I'd put a flea collar on him yesterday. "Take it off immediately! Those things can be toxic to cats!" It was a flea collar for cats and kittens - said so on the box! I took the collar off and washed him in a sink of water and dawn dish soap. I dried him off and loaded the kiddo and the kitty in the Envoy and drove 40 minutes to the vet in Brooklyn, CT.
The vet trip was fine. Nothing too spectacular. They gave him a shot of atropine and told me he should recover. That was when they told me that Edwin was, in fact, a girl.
Yeah, you'd think I'd've noticed that. I've had him/her since March. He's/She's a very furry kitty and I never had any desire to go poking around in his/her privates. I have no obsessions with kitty testicles, so when I was told that he/she had them I went with it.
In retrospect I have a dog who is a lesbian and a cat who miraculously underwent a sex change within 6 weeks. I think there's something terribly wrong with my life... I seem to be animal cursed.
Upon coming home I discovered that the animal sick catastrophe was bigger than originally presumed. I found puddles of kitty diarrhea in the laundry room, the bathroom downstairs, and a small amount on the rug in the living room. I spent, without exaggeration, 2 1/2 hours cleaning kitty pooh puddles and disinfecting my house. The kitty litter box looked like a pooh bomb had exploded in it. Needless to say, I feel extremely nauseous and so tired I can hardly stand myself. This was a bit more excitement than I had anticipated on my day off.
Kitty seems to be doing okay. He's sleeping it off. I keep checking on him to make sure he's not dead. Poor guy/girl. Have to figure out what to do about his/her name now. Edwina sounds dumb and I really liked the name Edwin. He/she may just have to suffer through gender confusion.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
If I were President.
I hear this a lot, "Well, it's easy to criticize the office of the President, but I doubt you even know what you'd do differently." So, that got me thinking, uh, yeah I have tons of practical ideas. Now, I know that the system is more complicated than that. We don't live in a tyrannical realm where one person makes these decisions. However, the office of the President is a powerful position that has been used irresponsibly in recent years, landing and keeping us in a dreadful recession.
So what would I do differently?
Honestly, I'd create a flat tax. You'd have to be reasonable about it. For instance you couldn't implement the tax on any individual making less than $28,000 a year as an individual or $56,000 as a married couple. And it should be a small percentage as well, since it won't wipe out state taxes, medicare or social security taxes. I'm thinking if we charged a 5% tax on EVERYONE making over the aforementioned amounts, we'd kick ass. We'd have to do away with loopholes for everyone, which would suck, but there's no point in a flat tax if there's a way to get around it. On top of that, the social security tax is not taxed on all amounts over $106,800 so those amount over 106,800 will be charged an extra 2%. That's what I think, but that's just me.
I also decided that churches today are righteous examples of tax evasion. Not all of them, just lots of them. Consider that tithes paid to a church are considered charitable donations. I personally feel like churches should have to prove their charitable works in order to maintain tax free/exempt or lower tax status. I don't feel like we should impose a tax on churches, but I feel if they're existing as a charitable entity and are enjoying benefits of this representation there should be an audit of sorts to maintain these churches are not abusing the system.
I actually have no desire to BE President, which is awesome since there has never been a female President and I doubt I'll see that in my lifetime. Just because I don't want the awesome responsibility of the office doesn't mean I don't have some constructive criticism for that which is in power at the time of this blog.
Here's a few hints for those in power right now:
Pelosi: You're a witch and a wretched representation of your race. You suck. Ass. Seriously, nobody likes your overcompensating power hungry push for power. Reign it in and be responsible.
Reid: Grow a pair.
Obama: You're a bully and you're using bully tactics to get your way since you can't get a majority support. Don't think having your Dem friends will help you if they lose majority in the Fall. You're too late, though. You've not done enough to preserve Americans or their livelihood and you haven't even tried to be partisan - the very foundation of our success. You, also, Suck.
I have a couple other thoughts. Unemployment benefits should not be extended past six months. I have spoken to many unemployed and I have to say a few things on the matter. Unemployment officers do not do enough to help those on unemployment seek new employment. I know people who don't know how to successfully apply to job postings online, yet the vast majority of companies hire via emailed resumes or online applications. I know of many others who know the system and choose not to seek employment actively. Also, instead of discouraging applicants from attending college to better their chances of hire, direct them toward online universities. These do exist and should be a tool offered by Unemployment offices.
I have a few more ideas, but I'm being called away right now. These are my thoughts and thankfully I live in a free country where I can share them.
So what would I do differently?
Honestly, I'd create a flat tax. You'd have to be reasonable about it. For instance you couldn't implement the tax on any individual making less than $28,000 a year as an individual or $56,000 as a married couple. And it should be a small percentage as well, since it won't wipe out state taxes, medicare or social security taxes. I'm thinking if we charged a 5% tax on EVERYONE making over the aforementioned amounts, we'd kick ass. We'd have to do away with loopholes for everyone, which would suck, but there's no point in a flat tax if there's a way to get around it. On top of that, the social security tax is not taxed on all amounts over $106,800 so those amount over 106,800 will be charged an extra 2%. That's what I think, but that's just me.
I also decided that churches today are righteous examples of tax evasion. Not all of them, just lots of them. Consider that tithes paid to a church are considered charitable donations. I personally feel like churches should have to prove their charitable works in order to maintain tax free/exempt or lower tax status. I don't feel like we should impose a tax on churches, but I feel if they're existing as a charitable entity and are enjoying benefits of this representation there should be an audit of sorts to maintain these churches are not abusing the system.
I actually have no desire to BE President, which is awesome since there has never been a female President and I doubt I'll see that in my lifetime. Just because I don't want the awesome responsibility of the office doesn't mean I don't have some constructive criticism for that which is in power at the time of this blog.
Here's a few hints for those in power right now:
Pelosi: You're a witch and a wretched representation of your race. You suck. Ass. Seriously, nobody likes your overcompensating power hungry push for power. Reign it in and be responsible.
Reid: Grow a pair.
Obama: You're a bully and you're using bully tactics to get your way since you can't get a majority support. Don't think having your Dem friends will help you if they lose majority in the Fall. You're too late, though. You've not done enough to preserve Americans or their livelihood and you haven't even tried to be partisan - the very foundation of our success. You, also, Suck.
I have a couple other thoughts. Unemployment benefits should not be extended past six months. I have spoken to many unemployed and I have to say a few things on the matter. Unemployment officers do not do enough to help those on unemployment seek new employment. I know people who don't know how to successfully apply to job postings online, yet the vast majority of companies hire via emailed resumes or online applications. I know of many others who know the system and choose not to seek employment actively. Also, instead of discouraging applicants from attending college to better their chances of hire, direct them toward online universities. These do exist and should be a tool offered by Unemployment offices.
I have a few more ideas, but I'm being called away right now. These are my thoughts and thankfully I live in a free country where I can share them.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Saga of Edwin the Cat
Yeah, so like I said, we got a cat. Thanks, Kris. In the grand tradition of animals in my family, he's a bit insane. Like Calamity Kam, the Kamikaze dog. Speaking of Kam. I think I mentioned her obsession with Edwin's peanuts. It's really embarrassing. She's zeroed in on them. She gets her nose under the cat, flips him over and the snout is glued to the poor kitty's testicles. Poor Edwin. He hardly seems to notice since while he's upside down like that he can play with her rabies tags. Demented animals. Kam has been temporarily imprisoned several times for molestation charges against the minor cat, but I think the penal system is failing her.
You'd think Ed would want to stay clear of his violator, but instead he stalks her. He's the vengeful type. His favorite hiding spot is the laundry basket. It's one of those Ikea collapsible deals, so he's very invisible. He crouches down in there, while it's collapsed mind you, and watches Kam run around the living room in circles. Then, when she's least expecting it, PAM! Killer Kitty attacks! He's like the size of my hand and Kam is about the size of my 4 year old, so it's rather disproportionate. Edwin pounces on the tail, mostly, then runs away like a bat outta hell and hides under the bed, where Kam can still get him since she's skinnier than a devoted bulimic.
Though unphazed by my admittedly perverted dog, who before now I was certain was a lesbian but now I'm only sure that she has huge confusion issues; Edwin likes to avoid Kaitlyn. I can understand this one since I've caught Kaitlyn throwing the kitten and carrying him around in a full nelson. Just for the record, convincing a 4 year old that the way to a kitten's heart is to ignore it is like trying to explain to her how water got on Mars. Before reporting my family to animal cruelty personnel it's important to understand that my daughter is very much like me. As such, my daughter can't throw for a damn. She just kinda tosses him up onto beds, which isn't so bad, but probably feels like a roller coaster from hell to a five week old kitten.
Speaking of animal-family relations, did I mention my husband insisted he didn't want a cat? There's a story there, of course. When Patrick and I met, he had a gluttonous calico monster named Nala. Nala was about 14 and weighed close to 40 lbs. Seriously. Fatter then Garfield. When I was pregnant Nala decided she needed to establish her superiority. When my behemoth preggo belly was big enough to show little pre-baby movements she would pounce and claw my stomach. Yeah. Evil little witch. THEN, when we set up the nursery, she peed under the crib, on the crib, under the play pen and in the play pen. Everywhere we set something up for the new baby the cat pissed. So.... I laid down the law. Mom beats Cat, every time. We went to Ruth, the MIL, who had been the original owner of said monster. As nicely as I could I explained to the mother in law that if she did not take the cat I would be forced to drive to the middle of Burriville, RI, and dump Nala in the most hawk infested woods I could find. Not that I thought the hawks could carry her off, I mean, she was huge, but I'm not sure Ruth made that connection. Nala would probably have loved it. All the squirrels she could eat. Anyway. Ruth took the Nala and the baby was saved from the premeditated murder plans of the Demon Calico.
After the loss of Nala, Patrick proclaimed to be done with animals. This gave way to my insistence of a dog (enter Calamity Kam). After Kam he wanted no more pets of any nature. This transitions into my a fore mentioned fear of mice. After the discovery of the midget mouse in the garage Kristin agreed it was time to pay me back for the cat I got her. Not that she didn't want a new kitty, she did, she just ended up getting more than she bargained for... Oh, by the way, in case no one has ever told you this, New England mice are deceptively tiny. You know those little mouse toys for cats? Yeah. Smaller. They're like invisible mice. You'd never know if you had one til you found a dead one in your garage. Just saying. But I digress...
When Kristin brought over the fur ball who became Edwin the Cat, Patrick's initial response was, "You didn't! What the hell?!" Terrified, Kristin proclaimed that I owed her as she drove away. The next morning Patrick woke up early just so he could play with Edwin. No joke. I woke up and Patrick's been up for half an hour getting Edwin to chase a ribbon, giggling like a little boy with a shiny new truck. The next night Edwin slept under Patrick's left hand like a manly blanket. "I'm too sexy for a blanket." Cuddled, the two of them slept the night away peacefully. A man and his cat. Last night I went to bed about three hours after everyone else. As I wandered into my bedroom to change into pajamas and pretend to read my poetry assignments I noticed Edwin did not need my husband's hand for warmth on this night. He was sound asleep with his head on my pillow snuggled under my clean clothes which I had neglected to hang up as of yet. Totally need to hang those up... Kitten on my side of the bed was a bit much. I threw the clothes on the ground (sanitary, I know) and forced the cat to the foot of the bed. I thought I'd conquered my man stealing kitten until he snuck back up toward my hands and proceeded to attack them for several minutes. It's like he's training for a boxing match for mad cats. Pounce, weave, duck, claw, bite dodge, weave, etc. This went on for quite some time while I tried to ignore the pathetically tiny claws and teeth and he gave up secure in his superiority that he'd put me in my place.
So, just to wrap up. I have a stealthy male cat in love with my husband, a completely insane dog with sexual confusion issues that include gender confusion and special boundaries, and a 4 year old who loves to torment them both.
Who wouldn't want to live at my house?
You'd think Ed would want to stay clear of his violator, but instead he stalks her. He's the vengeful type. His favorite hiding spot is the laundry basket. It's one of those Ikea collapsible deals, so he's very invisible. He crouches down in there, while it's collapsed mind you, and watches Kam run around the living room in circles. Then, when she's least expecting it, PAM! Killer Kitty attacks! He's like the size of my hand and Kam is about the size of my 4 year old, so it's rather disproportionate. Edwin pounces on the tail, mostly, then runs away like a bat outta hell and hides under the bed, where Kam can still get him since she's skinnier than a devoted bulimic.
Though unphazed by my admittedly perverted dog, who before now I was certain was a lesbian but now I'm only sure that she has huge confusion issues; Edwin likes to avoid Kaitlyn. I can understand this one since I've caught Kaitlyn throwing the kitten and carrying him around in a full nelson. Just for the record, convincing a 4 year old that the way to a kitten's heart is to ignore it is like trying to explain to her how water got on Mars. Before reporting my family to animal cruelty personnel it's important to understand that my daughter is very much like me. As such, my daughter can't throw for a damn. She just kinda tosses him up onto beds, which isn't so bad, but probably feels like a roller coaster from hell to a five week old kitten.
Speaking of animal-family relations, did I mention my husband insisted he didn't want a cat? There's a story there, of course. When Patrick and I met, he had a gluttonous calico monster named Nala. Nala was about 14 and weighed close to 40 lbs. Seriously. Fatter then Garfield. When I was pregnant Nala decided she needed to establish her superiority. When my behemoth preggo belly was big enough to show little pre-baby movements she would pounce and claw my stomach. Yeah. Evil little witch. THEN, when we set up the nursery, she peed under the crib, on the crib, under the play pen and in the play pen. Everywhere we set something up for the new baby the cat pissed. So.... I laid down the law. Mom beats Cat, every time. We went to Ruth, the MIL, who had been the original owner of said monster. As nicely as I could I explained to the mother in law that if she did not take the cat I would be forced to drive to the middle of Burriville, RI, and dump Nala in the most hawk infested woods I could find. Not that I thought the hawks could carry her off, I mean, she was huge, but I'm not sure Ruth made that connection. Nala would probably have loved it. All the squirrels she could eat. Anyway. Ruth took the Nala and the baby was saved from the premeditated murder plans of the Demon Calico.
After the loss of Nala, Patrick proclaimed to be done with animals. This gave way to my insistence of a dog (enter Calamity Kam). After Kam he wanted no more pets of any nature. This transitions into my a fore mentioned fear of mice. After the discovery of the midget mouse in the garage Kristin agreed it was time to pay me back for the cat I got her. Not that she didn't want a new kitty, she did, she just ended up getting more than she bargained for... Oh, by the way, in case no one has ever told you this, New England mice are deceptively tiny. You know those little mouse toys for cats? Yeah. Smaller. They're like invisible mice. You'd never know if you had one til you found a dead one in your garage. Just saying. But I digress...
When Kristin brought over the fur ball who became Edwin the Cat, Patrick's initial response was, "You didn't! What the hell?!" Terrified, Kristin proclaimed that I owed her as she drove away. The next morning Patrick woke up early just so he could play with Edwin. No joke. I woke up and Patrick's been up for half an hour getting Edwin to chase a ribbon, giggling like a little boy with a shiny new truck. The next night Edwin slept under Patrick's left hand like a manly blanket. "I'm too sexy for a blanket." Cuddled, the two of them slept the night away peacefully. A man and his cat. Last night I went to bed about three hours after everyone else. As I wandered into my bedroom to change into pajamas and pretend to read my poetry assignments I noticed Edwin did not need my husband's hand for warmth on this night. He was sound asleep with his head on my pillow snuggled under my clean clothes which I had neglected to hang up as of yet. Totally need to hang those up... Kitten on my side of the bed was a bit much. I threw the clothes on the ground (sanitary, I know) and forced the cat to the foot of the bed. I thought I'd conquered my man stealing kitten until he snuck back up toward my hands and proceeded to attack them for several minutes. It's like he's training for a boxing match for mad cats. Pounce, weave, duck, claw, bite dodge, weave, etc. This went on for quite some time while I tried to ignore the pathetically tiny claws and teeth and he gave up secure in his superiority that he'd put me in my place.
So, just to wrap up. I have a stealthy male cat in love with my husband, a completely insane dog with sexual confusion issues that include gender confusion and special boundaries, and a 4 year old who loves to torment them both.
Who wouldn't want to live at my house?
Monday, April 5, 2010
Haven't Blogged in ages....
So. I read a really awesome blog today and it reminded me that I'm a blogging failure and haven't blogged in ages. So, here I am.
What has happened in the last six months or more??? Jeez. Where to begin? I was going to write about all the depressing shit in my life and then decided no one really wants to know. Most don't care. Seriously, if you're a friend of mine or on Facebook you already know most of what goes on in my life, so writing about it here is superfluous.
Superfluous, adverb. Redundant. More than necessary. Excessive.
My girlfriend gave my daughter a cat. This many of ya'll don't know. I'm not normally a cat person, but I have this paralyzing fear of mice. Seriously. When we bought this house I had nightmares about mice for like a year. We live right across the street from a lake surrounded by huge pine trees. Yeah. We get mice out here. Once I had a dream that we had a mouse in the house. The mouse was on the staircase and he had a mickey mouse Fantasia magician hat, but he looked like a big field mouse. And, BTW, Walt Disney, mice are not cute and it is just sick that you immortalized this rodent to deceive children into loving something as sick as mice. Just saying. Anyway, in the dream, the wizard mouse was able to paralyze me with his beady stare. He didn't even need a wand! What the hell? He paralyzed me with his beady stare and opened my fridge and stole all my food. Bastard.
So, I'm okay with the cat. He's actually kind of cute. Edwin is his name. He's an itty bitty fur ball who hates me, but he's cute. I feed him, I clean his poop, I rescue him from my dog who is obsessed with his little peanuts... And yet, he sleeps with the husband. But, he's being trained to chase away the demented Disney mice. Yessss.... He doesn't know it yet but as soon as big enough to fight off the hawks and random bald eagles out here his butt is getting kicked OUT! Not like, totally out, just long enough during the day to stalk the mice that haunt my house.
Yeah. I should probably admit that Patrick is certain I'm just insane and the mice are not real. He found a dead one in the garage, but the crazy wife is just overreacting.
I'm mostly just concerned that Edwin will feel the need to present the imaginary mice to Patrick on our bed.
What has happened in the last six months or more??? Jeez. Where to begin? I was going to write about all the depressing shit in my life and then decided no one really wants to know. Most don't care. Seriously, if you're a friend of mine or on Facebook you already know most of what goes on in my life, so writing about it here is superfluous.
Superfluous, adverb. Redundant. More than necessary. Excessive.
My girlfriend gave my daughter a cat. This many of ya'll don't know. I'm not normally a cat person, but I have this paralyzing fear of mice. Seriously. When we bought this house I had nightmares about mice for like a year. We live right across the street from a lake surrounded by huge pine trees. Yeah. We get mice out here. Once I had a dream that we had a mouse in the house. The mouse was on the staircase and he had a mickey mouse Fantasia magician hat, but he looked like a big field mouse. And, BTW, Walt Disney, mice are not cute and it is just sick that you immortalized this rodent to deceive children into loving something as sick as mice. Just saying. Anyway, in the dream, the wizard mouse was able to paralyze me with his beady stare. He didn't even need a wand! What the hell? He paralyzed me with his beady stare and opened my fridge and stole all my food. Bastard.
So, I'm okay with the cat. He's actually kind of cute. Edwin is his name. He's an itty bitty fur ball who hates me, but he's cute. I feed him, I clean his poop, I rescue him from my dog who is obsessed with his little peanuts... And yet, he sleeps with the husband. But, he's being trained to chase away the demented Disney mice. Yessss.... He doesn't know it yet but as soon as big enough to fight off the hawks and random bald eagles out here his butt is getting kicked OUT! Not like, totally out, just long enough during the day to stalk the mice that haunt my house.
Yeah. I should probably admit that Patrick is certain I'm just insane and the mice are not real. He found a dead one in the garage, but the crazy wife is just overreacting.
I'm mostly just concerned that Edwin will feel the need to present the imaginary mice to Patrick on our bed.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Continuing
I suppose that's mean, starting my story midway through, but I had to grab your attention somehow!
My name is Nan, well it's actually Annanya but would you admit to having a name like that if you were me? I'm sixteen and should be in high school going through several crushes a year and pretending to care about schoolwork, and was in fact doing just that up until about 6 months ago.
The day it happened was much like any other day. I got up, ate cereal, went to school, gossiped, went home. Same old drill. Nothing strange happened until I got home. My dad was at work, so I was alone and I guess that's why the suits came for me when they did. They were bold as brass, too. Walked right up to the door and rang the bell. They almost had me, too. I got up to the door and had my hand on the knob when I heard the voices they didn't want me to hear.
"Don't think, she can hear you. Don't think, don't think, don't think," like a mantra being spoken inside their heads. One of them slipped up, though. He was a doubter.
"This is so stupid. I hope this is a quick bag so I can go home on time for once."
Well, that was enough for me. A part of me knew this day would come at some point, so I had an escape plan. Luckily, we lived in a condominium complex (can you image me mowing the lawn? I don't think so). I grabbed my go bag and slipped out the fire escape. Stupid suits didn't even bother to cover the back. I had a prepaid bus ticked that I kept on hand and took off for the bus station.
Looking back the only thing I regret is not leaving a note for my dad. I love my dad and would never want to hurt him, but I couldn't risk the suits finding it and learning anything more about me than was necessary. So they listed me as a runaway when I borded the bus in Jersey and headed West.
I suppose you're wondering why a bunch of losers in suits would be looking for a sixteen year old smart alec from Jersey. Well, if you haven't figured it out, get with the picture. I can read minds.
My name is Nan, well it's actually Annanya but would you admit to having a name like that if you were me? I'm sixteen and should be in high school going through several crushes a year and pretending to care about schoolwork, and was in fact doing just that up until about 6 months ago.
The day it happened was much like any other day. I got up, ate cereal, went to school, gossiped, went home. Same old drill. Nothing strange happened until I got home. My dad was at work, so I was alone and I guess that's why the suits came for me when they did. They were bold as brass, too. Walked right up to the door and rang the bell. They almost had me, too. I got up to the door and had my hand on the knob when I heard the voices they didn't want me to hear.
"Don't think, she can hear you. Don't think, don't think, don't think," like a mantra being spoken inside their heads. One of them slipped up, though. He was a doubter.
"This is so stupid. I hope this is a quick bag so I can go home on time for once."
Well, that was enough for me. A part of me knew this day would come at some point, so I had an escape plan. Luckily, we lived in a condominium complex (can you image me mowing the lawn? I don't think so). I grabbed my go bag and slipped out the fire escape. Stupid suits didn't even bother to cover the back. I had a prepaid bus ticked that I kept on hand and took off for the bus station.
Looking back the only thing I regret is not leaving a note for my dad. I love my dad and would never want to hurt him, but I couldn't risk the suits finding it and learning anything more about me than was necessary. So they listed me as a runaway when I borded the bus in Jersey and headed West.
I suppose you're wondering why a bunch of losers in suits would be looking for a sixteen year old smart alec from Jersey. Well, if you haven't figured it out, get with the picture. I can read minds.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Creative Outlet
She should have been hideous, this monster in front of me. She stared at me with eyes I had never seen before. They held no color, no iris, only a white milky glaze that seemed either to see my deepest secrets or nothing at all. Her skin, the color of a pale full moon contrasted starkly with the black and gray patchwork dress that clung seductively and alluringly to her slender figure. Her hair, as pale as her skin fell pin straight down to her waist. As she moved closer I noticed spiders scurry closer to her scalp into the protection the silk provided.
As I stared at her, frozen in terror, I couldn't help but notice the beauty of her terrible countenance. She moved with inhuman grace, flowing with her long slender legs and arms. I stood powerless to do anything but wait for my doom.
How ridiculous it seemed to me now that an hour ago my biggest fear had been a bunch of middle aged men and their laboratories. No, my exit from this existence would not be as a lab experiment, but as a snack for this wicked beauty.
Hovering inches from my face she hissed, "Are you the one they call Annanya?"
"I prefer Nan," I corrected automatically, immediately chagrined by my own nerve.
"I've heard of you," she breathed acrid sweetness into my face. I held my breath as subtly as possible. "You are different than the humans - the Sapians." She sniffed the air in the direction of my friends. "So are you friends."
My right eyebrow rose a half an inch higher than my left.
"The smell is different," she answered my unasked question.
For the first time since I'd wandered into the metaphorcal spider's lair I collected my senses enough to reach out to my captor's thoughts.
Curiosity finally got the best of your manners? She thought in an amused tone.
Shock crossed my face, "How did you know?"
It was only a matter of time before you tried. She shrugged. Many know your skill Annanya. Some think to gain amnesty from the agents, your pursuers by turning you in as a trade.
I hissed a breath of anger through my teeth.
Fear not, I am not so foolish. I could never fit in with their vision of a pure universe. I am a threat to their sensitivities, but you - you are a threat to any you perceive as your enemy. Such a skill to see one's thoughts, one's darkest secrets. The ability to find the proverbial black box in every person's brain and expose their true natures. Yes, you are a great enemy to them and their facade. Each day your - coven, I suppose - grows strongers with those who are more than simply HomoSapiens. Each day you grow stronger. I have brought you here to see if you can see inside my head enough to accept me in your coven. In return I offer my protection from those that hunt you.
I searched her mind and found a lifetime of sorrow and betrayal. Horrified, her parents had abandoned her as a child. She learned quickly to avoid Sapiens, as she called them, because they beat her for being a freak. She was battered yet strong. She hated Sapiens, but never searched them out, preferring her solitude and the spiders she befriended. They obeyed her will and with their help she sustained herself for the majority of her childhood. She had no idea how beautiful she was, but she did know how terrifying she was.
"What do I call you?"
"I am the Recluse, the most venomous of spiders, but you my friend, may call me Luce."
And as she smiled I saw what should have sent me running for the hills. Where she should have had eye teeth or incisors, she had two long, narrow, elongated fangs. I was fascinated!
As I stared at her, frozen in terror, I couldn't help but notice the beauty of her terrible countenance. She moved with inhuman grace, flowing with her long slender legs and arms. I stood powerless to do anything but wait for my doom.
How ridiculous it seemed to me now that an hour ago my biggest fear had been a bunch of middle aged men and their laboratories. No, my exit from this existence would not be as a lab experiment, but as a snack for this wicked beauty.
Hovering inches from my face she hissed, "Are you the one they call Annanya?"
"I prefer Nan," I corrected automatically, immediately chagrined by my own nerve.
"I've heard of you," she breathed acrid sweetness into my face. I held my breath as subtly as possible. "You are different than the humans - the Sapians." She sniffed the air in the direction of my friends. "So are you friends."
My right eyebrow rose a half an inch higher than my left.
"The smell is different," she answered my unasked question.
For the first time since I'd wandered into the metaphorcal spider's lair I collected my senses enough to reach out to my captor's thoughts.
Curiosity finally got the best of your manners? She thought in an amused tone.
Shock crossed my face, "How did you know?"
It was only a matter of time before you tried. She shrugged. Many know your skill Annanya. Some think to gain amnesty from the agents, your pursuers by turning you in as a trade.
I hissed a breath of anger through my teeth.
Fear not, I am not so foolish. I could never fit in with their vision of a pure universe. I am a threat to their sensitivities, but you - you are a threat to any you perceive as your enemy. Such a skill to see one's thoughts, one's darkest secrets. The ability to find the proverbial black box in every person's brain and expose their true natures. Yes, you are a great enemy to them and their facade. Each day your - coven, I suppose - grows strongers with those who are more than simply HomoSapiens. Each day you grow stronger. I have brought you here to see if you can see inside my head enough to accept me in your coven. In return I offer my protection from those that hunt you.
I searched her mind and found a lifetime of sorrow and betrayal. Horrified, her parents had abandoned her as a child. She learned quickly to avoid Sapiens, as she called them, because they beat her for being a freak. She was battered yet strong. She hated Sapiens, but never searched them out, preferring her solitude and the spiders she befriended. They obeyed her will and with their help she sustained herself for the majority of her childhood. She had no idea how beautiful she was, but she did know how terrifying she was.
"What do I call you?"
"I am the Recluse, the most venomous of spiders, but you my friend, may call me Luce."
And as she smiled I saw what should have sent me running for the hills. Where she should have had eye teeth or incisors, she had two long, narrow, elongated fangs. I was fascinated!
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