Getting Stuff Done

This is going to be a day for finishing up a couple of projects I have been working on. I have two short stories on the verge of being presentable (ie: they can go out into the daylight and I won't be embarrassed by them), and I'm experimenting with a new blog template (would you still love me if I looked different? would you?).

I fell asleep last night to the melodious sounds of cat fight, and I woke up to, you guessed it, cat fight. I wouldn't have minded the cat fight so much, except that it was taking place on my legs. Jolee and Starbuck have taken to wrestling. This makes me a little worried, because if I had to guess (I don't have a scale), Jolee weighs about 14 lbs to Starbuck's 3. And here they are rolling around in a big furball. He jumps on top of her, and she flips onto her back and grabs his head (the only part of him she can get her hands around) between her paws and kicks him with her back legs. It looks really scary, but after he lets her go, she's the one who comes back for more. So I guess he's not really squishing her, and I don't think their claws are out. But still, I hope a) he doesn't hurt her, and b) she doesn't take one of his eyes out (his eyes are SO PRETTY. I would NEVER FORGIVE her. Yeah, not that I love one cat more than the other or anything). Whatever. When I got up, I caught them curled up on the futon together.

Earlier, as I was lying in bed, I was thinking of doing a post on how New Orleans resembles the Wild West. My first item would be the construction boom. Dear lord, they have been working on the house next door for AN ENTIRE YEAR. Yet I am still awakened by the nail gun every morning. I have a feeling the construction's going to be around for several more years. My next item would be about how it's a lawless free-for-all here. Or maybe the vast number of Hispanic people in hats. Yeah, I don't know where I'd go with it after that.

But you heard it here first. New Orleans is the Wild West.

Tags: new orleans, cats

Coding Around

I don't know if I hate this or not...

It's doing the same thing my other site was doing, where the top and bottom borders work in IE and disappear in Firefox. I vaguely recall this. Damned if I have a clue what I did about it the first time. I obviously did something about it, because my site clearly appears with a green border around the entire container box. I wish I could remember what. Never mind that I copy/pasted the one stylesheet from the other, so it shouldn't be an issue at all. Actually, strike that. I added another box. That's probably the issue.

Whatever.

Oh. You know what? I made it a heavy border instead of a box. That's what I did about it. Which means I'm screwed. Because I don't know enough CSS tricks to fix it. Not tonight, anyway. Yawn.

Tags: design

Service With a Smile, Bitch

I am so over my job.

It's not that I'm bad at my job. It's not that I don't like to interact... with pleasant people. But working in service tends to grate on you when you aren't making money. I was forced to work during the Saints game... lord, I honestly think I made negative money that day, if you count the gas I wasted driving there. Then I worked a double yesterday. Which, as you can imagine, made me not incredibly enthusiastic to be there today for lunch. It was my last shift before my day off.

There are a lot of "lifers" in my restaurant. Me, I don't get it. I don't see how you don't become incredibly bitter at the human race, working in service for 10-20 years. Hell, if I have to work in service for more than two years, I am warning you now I will combust. Really, the only reason I'm there is because I have afternoon classes that do not allow me to work 9-5 (my program is designed to work around a teacher's schedule, but isn't great for people with other jobs). You just would not believe how rude people can be. I think it's because people view their servers as largely faceless. There are exceptions, but it's just the way it works. Even when I go out to eat, I rarely pay close attention to the person waiting on me, and I work in the industry. There's nothing wrong with that; in fact, unnoticeable service is the epitome of good service-- everything on the table before you think to ask for it.

The shit that drives me up a wall is shit that wouldn't even occur to you. Like the tons of people-- classy people, people who can afford it and know better-- who try to get something for nothing. There is a reason you cannot replace, like, the sauce on your entree with a freakin' salad-- because it clearly says on the bottom of the menu "add a salad $5." That is what a dinner salad is: a small salad to accompany your food. Why is that hard to understand? Why do people try to get them for free? "But like, I don't want the cole slaw. Can't I have a salad?" Yes. For $5. One thing is a menu item. The other is a garnish. Seriously, people. Enough. And there are people who, every time they come in, actively search for something to nitpick so they can get food comped. Why? Because probably once their steak wasn't the right temperature, and they got it for free, and a little light went off in their freeloading brain. So they decided to pull this B.S. every single time to get a 3-course $110 meal for 50 bucks. I wonder if it's a game for them. I wonder if the people who come in with them get embarrassed. I am embarrassed for people on a regular basis. And it pisses me off, because the feeling is unwilling and I wish I wasn't a classy, normal person so I wasn't compelled to cringe inwardly at this blatant, transparent behavior. It's not my embarrassment. So let's all just behave like adults in public so I won't have to deal with it.

OK. I'm done. Now it's time to enjoy the hell out of my day off.

Tags: work

Quality Time With the One I Love

I got home from work about an hour ago, and am winding down with pizza and spending some quality time with Jolee. Heh. I bet you thought this post was going to be about my boyfriend.

Seriously, though, I am worried about my favorite furball. Today the kitten snuck up on him in his litter box, causing him to run away with poop clinging to his butt. I had to chase him down, and he was not happy. The last time I worked a night shift, I came home to find Mike flipping out over the cats. Starbuck had tried to eat Jolee's food, and Mike locked her away and tried to coax Jolee out to eat, but it only made Jolee more upset and he jumped into the cabinet, where he sat on a shelf and wouldn't come out. Mike got mad at him because he was "being an asshole" and refusing to eat. (I suppose at this point I should explain that our kitchen doesn't have a door, so you can't just lock Starbuck out of the kitchen.) Tonight the same thing happened again. I walked in and found that Mike had locked himself and Starbuck in the bedroom (with her litter box in the middle of the floor). Apparently she'd been eating Jolee's food (I'm more worried about him than her when it comes to this-- although I swear she has doubled in size in the 9 days she's been here), and Jolee freaked out and ran under the futon. Mike tried to be nice to him but he wouldn't come out. So of course, I walk in the door and he pops out from wherever he's been hiding. He followed me into the kitchen and I said, "Babe, why don't you eat your wet food?" And he did. See, he listens to me. All he needs is me.

Anyway, he and I are out in the living room by ourselves. I think he needs some quality Sarah-and-Jolee time. One thing I have noticed is he hasn't been purring if I pet him when Starbuck is nearby. It's like he can't relax enough. Not that she makes him nervous, but she definitely makes him hyper and makes him feel like he has to follow her all the time. I will pet him and he will look happy, but he doesn't do his usual him-and-me stuff. I feel like he needs to relax, like she doesn't let him nap and cuddle as much as he usually does. In the mornings when she is still locked up, I wake up with him purring next to my face. I feel like he values one-on-one time. Because he is my boy. He's my Jolie Jolee (yes, I am aware that this is bad French, because "cat" is a masculine noun, never mind that Jolee is a masculine cat and therefore shouldn't be called "pretty," but it is one of his nicknames).

Sarah-and-Jolee Time Looks Suspiciously Like Using the Cat As a Pillow

Blah

I have to work a double shift today, and it is going to be a huge drag. I worked 4 hours yesterday and made $9. Yes, $9. Because it was the Saints game and I had only one table. It's like, "Hooray! I don't do enough volunteer work already! Why don't I just work for free too?" The Saints lost. My cats were bouncing on and off the bed being obnoxious last night, and I had to box the little one. I have to spend about 100 hours observing in the classroom this semester, on top of work and school, and it is stressing me out. I had to emergency Shout my work shirt because I forgot it had ketchup all over the sleeve, and I don't want to put it on. I just paid tuition and I have no money.

So there you go, just a couple of reasons why I am feeling blah on this Monday morning of Monday mornings. I think it should be a statewide day of mourning for the Saints and no one should have to go to work.

Mike and I traded desks Saturday night. Previously I was using a table, which wasn't good for me because of my clutter problem. If it was just me, it wouldn't be an issue. Complicating matters is the fact that Mike gets twitchy and upset having to look at clutter. So he cleaned out his drawers, and I am now at his giant desk with FOUR WHOLE DRAWERS to myself. It is so much better. Having a space to put things IN ought to keep the top of the desk clear. Or so I hope. Part of the rationale is that I am at home on the computer more often, plus I have classes and writing and therefore should be the one who is closest to the printer. Maybe I'll post a picture of my new and improved desk space.

Oh, look, there go the cats again. I need more coffee.

Yay Battlestars! Yay Cats!

Our next Battlestar Galactica disc was supposed to arrive yesterday via Netflix, and it didn't show up. This made Sarah very put out, but ended up being OK, because I went to class at 4:30 and to a musical revue in the Quarter with friends from work right afterward. I was too busy to watch TV anyway. But I am now celebrating the fact that... we have Battlestars today! I love how Netflix allows me to watch hours and hours of TV without actually watching, you know, TV. I don't like these Battlestars as much as I like the Fireflies... but then, I've just started. So on tonight's to-do list, we have Battlestars.

We also have cats racing around the living room pouncing on each other. I'm really not kidding about Jolee thinking the baby is a toy. You look at him all squashed flat to the carpet with his butt wiggling, and you clearly see in his eyes, "It moves fast! It flies! What's it going to do next? Quick, get it!" In the photo at left, the Bindo, surveying Starbuck from on high with eyes red as the devil's, prepares to lay the smack down with his pimp hand. Seriously, though, they're getting along very well. The kitten has the run of the house now, and Jolee is roaming around with her. He gave her a bath yesterday. And he did it again just now-- very authoritatively reached down and started licking her neck and back.

Tags: kitten, jolee, starbuck

I Was Going to Do a Thirteen...

... but I couldn't think of anything good, so instead I am watching X-Files reruns on the SciFi Channel. Yeah, I know. But I have a lot of work to do today. I am supposed to be working on two website designs for people I know. Yes, at the moment, I'm doing it for free, because I'm just not that good. At least, I don't believe I'm good enough to charge money. But I think it's good, because it satisfies my need to play around in Gimp and make graphics, plus I'm still learning CSS and can experiment.

One site is going to be my friend Maria's videography business. I'm hoping to work on that this afternoon. The other site is going to be for the Plaquemines Cat Action Team, the feral cat group I volunteer with, but I haven't started yet.

Web design is something I've always been very interested in. When I first "discovered" the internet in 1996, in my dad's office, I decided immediately that I wanted a web page. I had a lovely crappy Geocities page, which is what you did in the 90's if you were a high school sophomore and didn't have the money or experience to do anything cool. (Did anyone else have one? They had their site divided into different "neighborhoods" based on what you were interested in. Mine was in Area 51... I know, big shocker there.) I've had my own site ever since, existing in various stages of crappiness. The current version looks pretty, but doesn't have much content. This is partially due to the fact that I haven't decided what's going to go and what's going to stay. I'm starting a job search for teaching jobs very soon, and I am going to need to get rid of, or hide, some of my old content. Which sucks, but that's how it goes. I think I'm going to disassociate this blog from my site, definitely, because I want to be able to be myself on my blog. Therefore, I'm going to have to anonymous-ize (anonymize?) this blog at some point soon. 'Cause let's face it, I love me some bad words.

But yeah, design and graphics are something I love, but sort of dabble in rather than seriously pursue. I'm the kind of person who has too many interests. I think it's my Gemini nature. Writing fiction is the most important, but I like so many other things, it's no wonder I never get anything done. (I wouldn't say that's quite true, because in the last year and a half, I've done one novel, four short stories, and part of a new novel, but let's just say I get less done than I want to.) So this is apparently my time for playing on the internet, because people want me to play on the internet, and I'm up for it!

Tags: design, website

Gasp... Last Breath... Dying

I made chicken curry just now. I consulted a couple of recipes before sort of modifying and substituting my way through the cooking process. So I am here to tell you that, if you are ever faced with the choice between using the amount in your cookbook's recipe or using the amount on the back of the jar of curry paste... USE THE ONE ON THE JAR! Thanks a lot, Rachael Ray! I trusted you, and now my insides feel like I swallowed three shots of tequila. I don't know which jar of curry paste YOU have, but MINE is lethal if you put 3 tbsp into chicken curry. And hello, it's their jar of curry paste, so they ought to know. Just FYI.

Oh, chicken curry. How are you simultaneously so sweet yet so deadly? I must ponder this cooking mystery.

Tags: cooking

Starbuck

Introducing baby Starbuck!

I wanted to name the kitten after a warrior woman. She has become very fierce in the last two days... she chased Jolee all around the apartment this morning and even pounced on him. (He was a bit taken aback, but rebounded by stalking her across the carpet.) There are a couple of female Jedi in the Star Wars canon, but I didn't like any of them enough to name her after them. And I didn't know if I wanted two Jedi cats... So then I thought about Firefly. And I thought I would name her Zoe. But it sounded too much like Jolee. Then last night we watched Battlestar Galactica from Netflix-- I've been wanting to watch it for a while, because it is supposed to be a really good sci fi show. And therefore I have named the baby kitten Starbuck. Because it's cute. In a bad-ass fighter pilot kind of way. ;-)

Tags: starbuck

Yes, I Can See How This Might Be Very Unsettling

I photographed the standoff. Look how much bigger he is! Haha.

Tags: kitten, jolee

Alpha Cat

I don't know if I jumped the gun a little on this, but I took the baby cat out to see Jolee this morning. They were meowing under the door. She has made a ton of progress in two days. She loves to be handled and she purrs a lot. She has the run of the office when we're here to supervise her (though I'm keeping her locked up in her crate at night because I'm worried she'll get stuck somewhere or chew on cords). She likes to hide under the futon, but it's more like she's exploring than scared. I am trying to stuff her full of food, because she's so thin.

Jolee has been loud but all right. I keep petting him and telling him he's the alpha cat, and he is bigger, stronger, and prettier than that other cat, and I love him the most (what? I have to bribe him somehow! Besides, he is the prettiest cat I know.) Anyhow, I carried her crate out into the hallway to let him see her. His eyes went really round, and he walked up and sniffed her crate. He meowed a couple of times and seemed curious. Then he walked off sort of indifferently. I think this is a great reaction, and I am very relieved. She, however, was terrified of him. She hissed her baby hiss and came right up to the metal grate and growled at him. He seemed quite surprised! But then, he is a big cat, and his fur makes him bigger. It is obvious that I'll have to take it gradually, to make sure she's not too freaked out by him.

Baby cat still doesn't have a name. I know, I know. I'm working on it.

Tags: cats, kitten, jolee

Baby Gray Cat!

Introducing the new kitty... who is, for the moment, nameless. This is her being held by Mike. We were able to get a purr out of her, and she relaxed enough to fall asleep on the futon. Then I got a tiny baby hiss as I put her back into her crate. Oh well, it's only been two hours. She is huddled in her litter box at the back of the crate. But I bet she will purr again if I take her out.


In this shot, you can get an idea of her markings. She is a dilute torti, aka gray with beige spots throughout her fur. She has two beige feet and two gray feet. She is an older kitten, but still very, very small. There is a beige spot on her head. She actually looks more like a ferret, because she is long, but skin and bones.

Just for some perspective on her size, here she is curled up next to Mike. So far, Jolee is pretty calm. He knows she's there; he yowled and stuck his paws under the office door. But then I came out and petted him and he purred really loudly with a self-satisfied look on his face, like, "You still love me more. You left that cat to pet ME. I win." Then he went to sleep.

Tags: kitten

You Know What They Say

A short story that starts with a guy whipping it out can only end in disaster.

Things are going the way I planned, until he whips it out. You know, it.

"You like it that way, baby?" he grunts. "You like to do it in fast ships?"

I don't know what regular girls do in situations like this. I mean, imagine if I had genuinely trusted the guy. What if I'd been attracted to him at that party? What if I really had just wanted a ride in his ship? Fortunately, I am not here for social reasons. Getting him to pull out his keys from his pocket, deactivate the alarm, and slide the chip in the ignition of the Lexus S62 Streamcruiser was the sole point of this endeavor. It proved to be as simple as sidling up to him, pretending to totter tipsily on my four-inch heels and grab his arm-- flabby under the sleeve of that Colangelo Sport shirt-- for support, and offering the giggling suggestion that he show me his ride. Naturally, he puffed up with pride. It was the sort of pathetic empty pride displayed by people who genuinely believe their toys are a reflection on how cool they are. These men are the easiest marks.

It's small and pink against his finely woven khaki trousers. It wasn't even sexy, the way he did it. There was no foreplay, no kiss. He just unzipped and pulled it out, apropos of nothing. I feel an unaccountable righteous anger, on behalf of some hypothetical girl who is not me. It could have happened to someone who was innocent. Disturbingly naive, obviously, but innocent all the same. I sigh, and draw my FX18 pistol from my purse. Lucky for me, I am not innocent. I'm here to steal his ship.

Tags: writing, claudia n.

In 24 Hours I Will Be Branded a Horrible Traitor

I must type quietly so Jolee Bindo doesn't get wind of what's going on. It looks like tomorrow I am getting a kitten. I haven't seen it yet. It is a feral kitten that's currently at the vet being spayed and getting its shots. I say "it" because there are two-- a light orange kitten (suspected male) and a gray tortoiseshell (suspected female, because tortis generally are). I am picking one of the two, but we're leaning toward the female-- for balance, and because Mike has this theory that since the male cat likes me, a female cat will actually like him. (I think it is a blow to the ego that Jolee wants nothing to do with him. Haha.) Also, I grew up with gray cats, and I like gray cats.

I fully expect this to go badly. First of all, I am going to have to socialize the kitten, because it's feral and it's an older kitten (10-12 weeks). It's been living outside a public facility where there are people coming and going, but I'm not sure how much direct interaction with people it will have had, ie: feeding, petting, etc. Second, Jolee is not going to take it well. We're talking about a cat who once pushed my laptop off a table because he was jealous of it. It's partially my fault because I'm home a lot and he's gotten used to a very high level attention from me.

So yeah. It's going to be an interesting couple of weeks. I hope if I take it slow, I can make it work out. The Bindo is stretched out next to me on Mike's pillow, innocent of the fact that I am planning to end life as he knows it by bringing home... a dreaded auxiliary cat! So shhhh... better not tell him.

Tags: cats, jolee, kitten

Thirteen Things On My Amazon Wishlist

I really was drawing a blank, and I didn't want to skip the TT for the third week of sheer laziness in a row. So here are 13 things currently on my Amazon wishlist. Not that I want you to rush out and buy them for me, but just for fun!

1. Red Seas Under Red Skies, Scott Lynch. Of course, this isn't out yet. But I need it.

2. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, J.K. Rowling. I can't believe this is even ON Amazon, since she hasn't finished writing it. But hey, we can dream.

3. Magic For Beginners, Kelly Link. This is supposed to be a really excellent short story collection.

4. The Darkness That Comes Before, R. Scott Bakker. Because the last thing I need to do is start a new fantasy series...

5. Ragamuffin, Tobias Buckell. I really liked Crystal Rain. This book isn't out yet.

6. The Duchess of Duke Street, Series One. I love me some old British T.V.

7. The Fall of the Kings, Ellen Kushner and Delia Sherman. Kushner is my new favorite thing. Well, Lies of Locke Lamora is also my new favorite thing. They are both quite different things, but I hope they won't mind sharing. Ellen Kushner writes fantasy that's more like alternate history, with a very literary style.

8. The Lord of the Rings Motion Picture Trilogy-- Special Extended Edition. It occurred to me that I don't have this, and I really don't know why. It seems like something I would have! But I never got around to buying any of the movies except my VHS copy of the first one.

9. Shadowplay, Tad Williams. I liked Shadowmarch enough to want to see where he's going with it. Tad Williams is a fantasy author I always buy. Also not out yet.

10. Sports Night-- The Complete Series Boxed Set. I LOVED this TV show. It was so clever and had the snappiest dialogue. But it was cancelled after two seasons because it was a cross between drama and comedy and viewers didn't know what to think of it. Which makes me sort of bitter because we're watching the DVDs of Scrubs right now, a similar show from more recent years that managed to make it.

11. Rebel Angels, Libba Bray. I'm on this YA kick, and I liked the first one. Mystery and magic at a Victorian girls boarding school.

12. My Latest Grievance, Elinor Lipman. I buy everything Elinor Lipman writes because I love her and I want to be her when I grow up. If you want to read her, you should start with The Inn at Lake Devine, which is one of my favorite books in the history of ever.

13. Life As We Knew It, Susan Beth Pfeffer. Yeah, because just what the girl who lives in the wreckage of Katrina needs is post-apocalyptic YA.

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Tags: thursday thirteen, books, movies, wishlist

I Have Changed My Photo Again

To celebrate Mardi Gras, of course! 'Tis the season! Mardi Gras this year falls on February 20th, so mark your calendars. And, naturally, if you want to make the trip and need a place to stay, give us a call and make your reservation early! ;-) We are within walking distance to the parade route... if, well, you like a brisk walk. Seriously, though, we are located at Jefferson Avenue, and the parades start on St. Charles on Napoleon Avenue, which is the next major street down from us. Some of you may not know that the Mardi Gras season begins on Twelfth Night. That was January 6th, so get ready to let the parades roll!

For informational purposes, this is me at my first Mardi Gras in 2004. I believe this is the Saturday or Sunday before Mardi Gras. That is a Krewe of Thoth bead around my neck, the one with the dangle in the shape of a pyramid. I have lots of beads on at this point in the day. I think it's a bloody mary in the cup. And yes, I am wearing underwear on my head.

Tags: blogging, user photo, mardi gras

Pretty Photoshopped Bindo

Because I don't have too much time on my hands or anything. Jolee Bindo, by the way, may be relinquishing his title as cat king of the household on Friday. I'll keep you posted.

Tags: jolee, cats

This Is My Country... and This is My Remote... Oh Oops, Did I Hit That Button?

The Jessica Simpson thing was so cleansing, I figured why stop there? Especially while there is football on and I am currently inspired. I'm on a roll. Why not tackle the ad I hate EVEN MORE than Jessica Simpson's ad? Yes, it does exist. And, oh, it's a good one, if by good you mean vomit-inducing. Here goes:

I HATE THE "THIS IS OUR COUNTRY" CHEVY TRUCK AD.

Oh, how I hate it. I hate it in all its incarnations. I hate the first one that juxtaposes a bunch of serious images like Vietnam, Martin Luther King, 9-11, and, oh I don't know, New Orleans DROWNED IN WATER with a lame schmaltzy song designed to manipulatively invoke a warm, fuzzy, patriotic feeling in the sort of people who have never been taught to think critically about anything in their lives. Seriously, I remember the first time Mike and I saw that commercial. We were like, "Did that just happen? Did that really just happen?" Was that New Orleans? Tell me this is an ad for, like, the Red Cross. Or Habitat for Humanity. Something that will fade to black and pop up a website where you can go and find out how you can help at www.whatever.com. Wait, they're selling trucks? Trucks? Seriously? Is this a joke? (Side note: This was also our reaction to Allstate being allowed to sponsor the Sugar Bowl at the Superdome after their recent announcement that they will be dropping their coverage of everyone in the state of Louisiana.)

That's pretty low. When you live here, it is kind of inconceivable to see those images being used cheaply. It seemed almost sarcastic. Like, I could understand cobbling together a video of destroyed images backed by that song as some sort of social commentary, as irony. That's what we thought it was at first. But then, it wasn't irony. It was trucks. It's horribly offensive and disgusting. "This is our country! Little pink houses for you and me! In fifteen feet of water with the roofs peeking out! Whoo!"

So, OK. A lot of other people had the same reaction to that particular spot, so they hauled out some new ones. Oh, you think I'm finished. I am not finished. Because, as you will be excited to find out, I have equal or greater hate for the one with the blue-collar red-staters with the lame "values" oriented taglines that play across the screen. It just seems like they got a bunch of advertising dudes together in a room and said, "OK, guys, give me images that middle-aged conservative farm workers who live in trailers in the midwest and watch football and NASCAR can identify with! Ready, set, go!" See, this is part of what I don't get. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this the demographic that already buys trucks?

I just think that for a commercial based around a song entitled "This Is Our Country," it's a remarkably exclusionary ad. There is not a single woman or person of color in that commercial. It's all men, men, men. And they're all white men with jobs involving mud. And I haven't even gotten to the taglines. "This is our philosophy," against a Norman Rockwell-esque Boy Scout. Because I'm sure Chevy's advertising department "forgot" that the Boy Scouts are notoriously anti-gay. "This is our purpose," against a baby. Right, 'cause women are all gestational tools for the patriarchy and procreation is our noble purpose. "This is our internet chat room," against two cowboy-hatted guys having coffee in a greasy spoon. "This is our coffee break," against a guy napping on a huge pile of trees he has just killed with his giant manly saw. Oh, it gets better. "This is our backbone," against an oil rig. Dude. Seriously? Are we sure this isn't irony? The last time I checked, a Chevy Silverado was a large gas guzzling machine and gas was a non-sustainable resource. If anyone seriously thinks the oil industry is the backbone of our country, they have got to be on crack or they had too many 40's. The gas industry's interests and the average American's interests are about as opposite as... I'm running out of clever snark here, so imagine two things that are really, really, really far apart. "This is our breakfast," against... what the fuck is that, anyway? It's a stack of plywood. Do rednecks eat plywood for breakfast? I don't know where they're going with this one.

What if you're a blue-collar worker who's a woman, and you like trucks? What if you run an internet company, and you like trucks? What if you've chosen not to have kids, and you like trucks? What if you are an environmentalist, and you like trucks? What if you're black, and you like trucks? Guess this ain't your truck! Oh wait, or your country! Sorry.

Anyway, I refuse to watch that ad. We change the channel whenever it comes on. Which is roughly... every two minutes. Have you watched football this year? That's not an exaggeration. Sometimes it comes on twice in one commercial break. Which is pretty inexcusable considering it's a long ass ad. I don't care what stupid, stereotypical, midwestern glorification imagery they've plopped into it this week. All of its incarnations piss me off. I just hear the song and I reach for the button.

Because this is war, Chevy. Now excuse me while I put on my pink "THIS IS WHAT A FEMINIST LOOKS LIKE" T-shirt and drive my small fuel-efficient Korean car to the coffee shop, where I will blog some horrible baby-killing, tree-saving, left-wing sentiments on one of them new-fangled contraptions called a laptop. Maybe on my way back I'll stop at the Planned Parenthood and make fun of the Catholic Church. And when I get home, I'll read Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and try to learn witchcraft from it. Because I didn't vote for Bush either time. And I hate trucks, especially those ones with I'm-compensating-for-something double wheels that drive ass-slow, rolling at 10 MPH in an attempt not to sideswipe surrounding objects and vehicles, because WTF do you need those double tires for in an urban area full of narrow one-way streets when you aren't even hauling anything?

This is my country, bitches. Get out of my way.

Who Doesn't Like Cats?

I am sitting on the living room couch, with the feline companion reclining on a cushion beside my head. The late afternoon light is hitting his fur in a way that makes him magically appear full of colors-- brown, white, yellow, and beige. I stroke his fur and a purr rumbles up from inside him. He is so companionable. I don't understand people who don't want cats-- tons and tons of cats, with coats of many colors, draped across all your furniture.

Dogs smell nasty. Jolee has enough fur to clothe the residents of a small European country, yet he manages to always smell nice. (Is it creepy that I think he would be so nice as an angora sweater? What's angora? Isn't that rabbits? His fur is so downy and soft-- I feel like it is a waste to throw it in the trash. I feel like I ought to be spinning it into yarn and knitting things out of the bits of Jolee I find strewn about the carpet. But maybe that's creepy.)

Cats are independent. OK, mine is kind of a brat, but generally a likable characteristic of cats is that they are very chill. They mind their own business, and they don't mind being rude about it. Sometimes I could swear, for instance, Jolee is rude to Mike on purpose. Like the other night we were cuddling on our bed and he had his arm around me, and he got up to go to the bathroom. Jolee immediately hopped up and curled himself into my armpit in the exact warm spot where Mike had been. He arranged himself into a round ball and stared challengingly at the doorway. Mike comes back through the door and flips out. "STOP TRYING TO TAKE MY PLACE! DON'T THINK I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TRYING TO DO! ASSHOLE!"

Hee.

Mike says it's not that he hates cats. He's just generally indifferent to them. This is so weird to me, since I've always had them and always doted on them. Cats can tell, too. They like me. Unfriendly cats will come to me if I'm patient enough. I am the cat whisperer. Ha. But Mike says he doesn't care if we get another cat. Doesn't care if we don't, either. (Fine. This is not what he actually said. What he actually said two nights ago was, "I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill Jolee. But don't worry, sweetie. If I kill him, you can go get two whole new cats, OK?") He says he doesn't necessarily dislike Jolee, but Jolee dislikes him. I can't argue with that. It's pretty much true. I am starting to think the cat is diabolical and is just toying with him.

But he can't be that smart... can he?

Busy, Busy, Bored, Busy

I have been busy this week with work. It is hard for me to say that seriously, because it is hard for me to take my job seriously. I think they sense this. But I'm a 25 year old with a B.A. and several credits toward an M.A. under my belt, and I wait tables. Come on. It's way lame, but right now it's the way to make the greatest amount of cash working the fewest hours.

Only... not. Despite promises that the holiday season would be great, I made like zero money the week before Christmas. Then I went to New York for a week. Then this week I didn't make any money either. I made $35 at dinner Thursday. To throw out a comparison, on a good Thursday dinner I walk out with $170. I'm taking a huge hit, and it's a bit worrying because I have to pay tuition to UNO in two weeks. I picked up some extra shifts, and that's where I've been. I haven't even unpacked my suitcase from Christmas.

Apparently classes start this week. Good thing I checked. I'm not particularly ready for this to happen, but I am ready to finish the coursework and be certified, so I guess let's get on with it!

Sort of a depressing week to be living in New Orleans, as we've had a huge crime wave since New Year's. It's stressing me out. I want to feel safe. I think I might go to this march against crime downtown on Thursday. I don't have to work till five, and it's important to show that citizens won't stand for apathy and ineptitude on the part of our local government anymore. (I will not snark about how NONE of the people I voted for won their elections, and therefore we have huge idiots in office... oh wait, I just did.)

Bird-Watching Bindo

What, unfortunately, you don't get from this photo is how his lips are twitching and he's making little muffled growls as birdies frolic outside the window.

I Hate Jessica Simpson

I just hate her.

Sorry, this came kinda out of the blue. It's her damn HDTV ad. I have to change the channel whenever it comes on, it annoys me that much. When she goes "Ah totally don't know what that means, but ah want it!" in the most stereotypical southern accent ever, I want to bitchslap her.

To be fair, I want to bitchslap her whenever I see her face, whether it be on TV or in a magazine or on the web. I have had it argued to me that "she's not really dumb, she's very smart and she's playing everyone and making a fortune off it." See, here's my problem with that: if she's really this savvy person-- which I don't for a second believe she is-- it's even more inexcusable. What kind of woman pretends to be dumb so boys will like her? Maybe someone in, like, the fifth grade. I thought we'd moved past that. The same goes for Paris Hilton, as far as I'm concerned. It's completely reprehensible. I've heard other women sticking up for this behavior, and it pisses me off beyond belief. Stupid is not cute. Stupid is not something adolescent girls should have plastered all over the media as a role model. Never mind that reality TV "celebrity" is the dullest and most insipid form of celebrity around.

I don't get what's so great about Jessica Simpson. I mean, I would call her pretty, in a blonde chesty sort of way, but she's certainly not beautiful. Not anything special. She looks all done up, plus she has this scary aggressive look in all her photos that makes me afraid she'd pounce on my head with her giant white teeth. I would venture to say that if she was just an average girl, without a posse of people to keep her glam, she'd be pretty but nothing you don't see every day. Whenever I say I find nothing whatsoever attractive about Jessica Simpson, other people (male and female alike) seize on this. "Sour grapes! You're just jealous! She's gorgeous!"

No, she's not. She's fake and scary-looking. Plus, I am perfectly capable of recognizing female beauty. Keira Knightley, for example, is beautiful. I could look at her all day (in a non-sexual way). ANYHOW. I hate Jessica Simpson. Whew. Nice to get that off my chest.

Hmm. My website seems to be down so my banner isn't loading. Oops.

Add two more tacos to dinner. I told you I'm down with the whole late night thing.

Gaining 15 Pounds: Day 2

Since I don't usually make New Year's resolutions, this isn't a resolution so much as a goal. My mom has been bugging me for a long time to eat more. I just said, "Whatever," because I eat tons and I eat badly. I hope no one who reads this blog will get offended by this or take it the wrong way, because I know most women have the opposite problem. I don't want people to be like, "Oh, poor little skinny girl." But I really need to gain weight, and I am going to be writing about this process. When I went home, I got on the scale and saw that it said 105. Wow. I really had no idea, since I don't have a scale in my house. I mean, I'm no Nicole Richie, but that's pretty thin.

I did one of those BMI (Body Mass Index) calculator things, and I wound up at a 17.3. This is classified as "underweight." At my height I pretty much need to weigh at least 115 to be healthy, since a healthy BMI is 18.5-19 and up. I really don't know how I lost all this weight. Mike is quite stumped as well, since I do all the wrong things. By this I mean things they tell you not to do unless you want to gain weight. I put cheese and bacon on everything, and have a diet of mostly carbs (I love pasta-- love!) I skip breakfast. I eat meals at midnight and fall asleep directly afterward. I have always had a really fast metabolism, so these things have never caused me to gain weight.

I think a number of factors caused me to lose weight, though. First, my job. I work three lunch shifts a week, which run from 10:15-4. I am one of those people who is totally nauseated by the idea of breakfast, and I have been since I was a kid. So I usually just have coffee and hope they let me out of work early so I can get lunch around 3. But sometimes it doesn't work that way, and I end up not eating anything till dinner. Of course, I'm starving, but once your body gets used to it, it is pretty easy to tell it to stop being hungry, especially if I am busy. I also work 2 dinner shifts a week, which start at 4:45 and generally run until anywhere between 11:30 and 1:30 AM. So it's obvious that working during times when most normal people are eating meals has caused me to get fewer regular meals. We get to snack sometimes at the restaurant, but I don't really have any breaks.

Second, I don't sit at a desk all day. I am on my feet, being active. This burns more calories than I'm taking in. Third, I haven't gone to the gym since Katrina. Cardio-wise, this doesn't matter so much (most people would be putting ON weight from not working out, not the other way around) because I am active at my job. I'm walking at a fast pace and carrying heavy things (platter plates weigh 4.5 pounds each, for instance, and I do a 3-plate carry, which brings us up to 12.5 lbs -- stick a couple of 22 oz. ribeyes on there and it's almost like the gym!). But I have lost muscle weight from not lifting regularly, which is heavier than fat. My arms are strong for someone my size, but I bet I've lost muscle mass over the rest of my body. Fourth, I think Katrina stress kind of bummed me out. I lost weight after that last year and didn't gain it back.

So here I am, trying to come up with a strategy for gaining 15 pounds. I think I look and feel my best at 118-120 (stronger than 115 me of high school, yet smaller than 128 me of freshman year after the discovery of beer and all you can eat buffet), and I want to get back there. For one thing, my boobs need the boost. For another, I think not weighing enough might be the reason I've felt so "blah" lately. I don't have enough energy. The problem becomes, I eat a lot. Sort of like a snake, who devours a huge egg which then digests over days. Like I will eat an entire sleeve of Chips Ahoy in a sitting (my former roommate used to yell at me-- "A 'sleeve' is not a unit of measurement for cookies!!"), or I'll make one of those meals in a bag that's supposed to serve two people. The meal I have most often is a can of soup. I always eat the whole can and then usually something else on the side, too. So it's not that I need to add food-- it's that I need to stop coasting between meals because I'm busy. Here are some things I'm going to try, starting yesterday:

1. Protein. Mike has a whole cannister of man-protein (you know, the kind that has pictures of creepy weightlifters on it).
2. Tuna. My brother swears by tuna, and he weighs 280 and is an All-American thrower of large heavy objects (weight & hammer are his events).
3. Peanut butter. Adds protein.
4. Breakfast. I am going to force myself to eat breakfast every day. It makes you hungrier for lunch.
5. Except when hungover.
6. Some articles I read suggested eggs, but I hate eggs. Have you ever seriously thought about what eggs ARE? Ew. I don't want placenta for breakfast, thanks. They also suggested adding cheese and bacon to everything you cook. WHAT THE HELL? WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY RIDICULOUSLY FAST METABOLISM? I ALREADY ADD CHEESE AND BACON TO EVERYTHING!!

How Sarah's New Diet Has Been Going So Far:

Tues Dinner: Two beef tacos with extra cheese, one Instant Breakfast with extra protein.
Weds Breakfast: 1 cup coffee. One bowl frosted mini-wheats.
Weds Lunch: Yeah. So. About that lunch thing... 1/3 of a baked potato, one piece of tres leches cake (a cake made of milk has got to be fattening, right??), and one plate fried rice, all scarfed in free moments at work.
Weds Dinner: 1 large plate of salad (with chicken, cheese, & bacon-- I don't believe in those lettuce-y salads), 1 glass OJ with man protein, 1 Abita beer (what?)

Clearly I need to work on that lunch thing... But then, with my schedule, I believe it might be more expedient to replace "lunch" with "midnight snack." I am a person of the night.

Loud Cat

I tried to take a picture of how happy Jolee Bindo was to see me, but he was moving too fast in his joy. He was a blur of joy. I approached his napping place on the futon, and he looked at me in startlement and disbelief. "Is it...?" I reached out a finger, and he rose slowly up on his hind legs to beep my fingertip with his nose. "IT IS!!"

I think he must have been very depressed without me. He has been awfully loud in the 24 hours I've been back. He yowled all night and all day. There's nothing wrong with him, he has food and water, and his box is clean. He's not even in the same room with me, so it isn't a "turn around and pay attention to me" yowl. Or maybe it is. He's just walking around the apartment going "mow... mow... mow... mow." I think he's still expressing his displeasure. He had to live with Mike a WHOLE WEEK. But he was fed and watered and he had someone to keep him company. One would think he'd be grateful. But no. Apparently he was quite rude to Mike.

Some pets are just one person pets. He is flopped out on the floor inches from my chair, purring.