Oh My God, Look What The Cat Horked Up

furballYou absolutely know your day is gonna rock the casbah when…Before you’ve even scraped the cobwebs off your sleepy eyeballs your bulimic cat projectile vomits across the kitchen floor. Yep. I have two bulimic cats. They don’t cough up furballs. They just eat and eat and eat until they involuntarily puke. Thank you, Voodoo. Nothing says  I love you like cleaning up your vomit.

The second sign it’s gonna a good (sarcasm) day…R called me around 8 to tell me his car broke down and he needed help pushing it out of the road. I don’t care, god, knows he’s done the same for me more times than I can count. These are the times when I’m glad I’m from big boned hillbilly stock. I can move my own furniture, push cars, and reach the top shelf without needing a man’s help. Dad raising us girls to basically be as rough and tumble as boys might have been a good thing.

Last night was awful. The humidity hit like 71% and it was 93 degrees at six p.m. By which time, I’d been in my sauna bubble and in spite of air and fans, I was so overheated I became literally ill physically. Headache, nausea. When I went to R’s, I didn’t even jump on the Mangoritas, I nursed cold water for two hours until I acclimated to his super cool house. It’s pretty fucking miserable when it cuts into my drinking time. (Sorry, I had a Wednesday 13 song stuck in my head with that last part in the lyrics…”I’ve got…too much blood in my alcohol system…) I had to ask for Tylenol and of course, his living room has all these wide open windows with sheer curtains so the sunlight was piercing my retinas and making it all so much worse. Then he made it even more heinous by turning on a Tom Cruise movie. That idget is banished from my kingdom for his ‘mental illness is not real” Scientology ass fuck bullshit. I didn’t watch it, just laid down on the couch, closed my eyes, and tried not to hurl. Not sure if the hurl urge was the heat or Cruise.

I had one of my socially awkward moments when Lori abruptly showed up to watch The Flash reruns with us. I dunno know why, I’ve known Lori for almost 20 years, she’s awesome. I worked in her daycare as an assistant, yet socially awkward penguin always comes out, especially when not given a heads up that there will be a crowd. (Which ya know in my book, means more than two people.)

Lori is the one whose husband was killed a couple months back when he was using a chainsaw to cut a neighbor’s tree down and the saw basically went berserk and he was dead instantly. She’s still struggling being alone as they were together over thirty years. In socially awkward penguin mode, I had no clue if I was supposed to give condolences or if bringing it up would just open the wound. Then every time there was a reference to death or husband on the show, I got a little ill at ease. (She seemed fine.) I should probably buy a self help book or some shit and improve my social skills. Not that it’d do much good with my mood swings, I’d acquire all the skills, go manic,and blurt out exactly the wrong thing. Stupid bipolar.

It was still 90 degrees at ten p.m. I took my third shower of the day. Only way I can get cooled down when the humidity is so thick, moisture just glistens on your skin and you’re doing nothing but sitting or standing. I thought for sure because of my lack of sleep the night before, I’d zonk out, no spawn to disturb me. Yeah, the scumbag brain vetoed that plan. I was awake til after 11. Woke up a couple of times. Thought, I should get my ass up and do some work around the house since I was spawn free. That didn’t happen either. My give a damn and giddy up and go were definitely MIA.

Come to think of it, those fuckers have been MIA for months. They need their picture put on milk cartons.

I had to call my dad back this morning for it was too late to call last night. He wanted to know how I was handling the heat, trailer being so hot and all. Um…I’m not handling it, I’m meeelting. I answered honestly about how it was hot in here I got physically ill. And thus he launched into, “Yeah, tell me about it. Your brother and I are were out in it, mowing several lawns the size of football fields…” It’s like a competition of “who has it worse” with him, but he always win by his own decree. And ya know, logic would dictate that working out in the sun and heat would make one miserable. But I was sitting in my home and sweating to death. That’s pathetic.

Thus far, I’ve done nothing today but clean up cat hork and help push a car. Not much on the agenda, anyway, except stopping by the shop so R can go make deposit at the bank. He can use my car. I trust him more than I ever did the donor. Then I gotta go fetch my spawn.I should mow the lawn before the landlord starts gnawing on my ass but I ain’t feeling it. He’s about an asshole, anyway. The other side of the trailer park literally had toilets draining in the street, toilet paper and waste and all, cos his maintenance guys couldn’t fix sewage right. But yea, my unlidded trash cans and overgrown lawn are way worse. Public enemy number one, that’s me. I know, I make a big deal out of silly shit, but it’s just irritating that these fuckers have such idiotic priorities.

It occurs to me this must be the most boring blog on the planet. I talk too much about the weather. All I do is complain. I mean, I call it venting but apparently, the popular opinion is ‘whining’. Meh, bite me.

It has occurred to me, that even in my anhedonic depressive state…I’ve really enjoyed the swapping of comments with everyone that talks to me on here. You guys are fucking awesome. You’re the support system I always wanted. So thank you for bringing a little light into my dark corner. This, of course, means that we are all cured, because mentally ill people cannot possibly share humorous remarks. Those few bright moments of enjoyment totally outweigh all the suckiness we endure.

Much love go my Volatile Femmes. That road trip needs to happen soon, ladies!

Okay. I’m gonna work on the getting dressed thing even though I’m half tempted to just wear what I slept in. Scuzzy, perhaps. But everything I own is black and I have multiples of the same things, I doubt anyone would even notice.

One final thing. Shameless promotion of a product I adore and the more people who buy it, the less likely it is they will take it away from me.

cheezitHa ha, cheese with my whine.

 

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20 Responses to “Oh My God, Look What The Cat Horked Up”

  1. MMMMM,,,,CHEEZ•ITS!!! 🙂

  2. The Happy Healthy Kiwi Says:

    Socially awkward penguin, I love it! Also describes me to a T! Give me one on one any day, its just easier!

    • Socially awkward penguin was a meme I found on Reddit where people used a template pic of a penguin and filled in their own social ineptitude stories with text. Some of them rang way too true for me.

  3. I love the smell of cat hork in the morning. Not boring, not whining. Being Morgue ❤ Come on ladies!! Get your asses here and we're road trippin south!!

  4. You guys liven up my day.

    • Ya know the weird thing is, I think if we were TRYING to be funny and lighten up someone’s day…we’d fail miserably. But the banter comes so naturally, we succeed.

      We need to play Manata with your chiro. Sass and I will do the hitting, we have anger issues. You can just watch. We’ll even be gentle and hit him with pool noodles instead of sticks. Just until he gives you some treatment that actually relieves your pain instead of making it worse.

      On Wed, Jul 29, 2015 at 1:31 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

      >

      • That would be interesting. You all clumping in there and pounding him with pool noodles. Maybe he likes that LOL!

      • Oh, nooo. Rule 34 of the internet. If there is any common activity that can be made perverted, it will be done…I’m not even gonna search for “pool noodle spankings”. Nope.

        On Wed, Jul 29, 2015 at 2:32 PM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

        >

  5. When I was a teenager my mom had breast cancer. She’s fine now, but it was a really rough time for a while. Several years ago, one of our friends’ mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. I didn’t bring it up. I still hung out with her, but I didn’t say anything about moms or cancer or anything. Her mom ended up passing away. A few years later I found out that she was really hurt that I hadn’t talked to her about it, knowing that my mom had had breast cancer too. When my mom had cancer, I just wanted people to shut the fuck up about it. Stop telling me you’re sorry, stop offering not-so-helpful advice, just let me live my life like I’m a normal teenager. So I thought saying nothing was the right thing to do. Oops.

    Anyway, long story short, I don’t think there is a “right thing” to do or say. I wanted to be left alone, she wanted someone to talk to. Basically, you’re fucked. 😛

    • Well, bit of a relief to know it’s not just my lacking social skills. Boils down to us all being so different, there’s no one size fits all. I’d hate to think of hurting anyone by speaking up or not speaking up.

      This is where a mind reading super power would come in handy 😀

      On Thu, Jul 30, 2015 at 8:35 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

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