Save the kittens

Today, I received this text message:

This cat is dying. She has brain cancer. Every time you forward this picture comcast donates a quarter to help save this kitten. If this was your cat you would do anything to save it. So please forward and help save the kitten.

Along with this picture, presumably of the cancer-ridden kitten:

That cat is totally faking it.

But, just in case it's not, and just in case Comcast doesn't follow through on their promise to donate a quarter each time this text is forwarded, I went ahead and Googled "Comcast dying kitten". That's how I found this e-how article entitled, "How To Save A Dying Kitten." Italics are my own thoughts.


Step 1. Pick up the kitten and take it home. Put it in a box filled with wood shavings and scraps of wool. It may bite/scratch you. Worry about rabies later. Remember! The dying kitten comes first. They're practically extinct, you know.

Step 2. Offer it some food. It may not eat, due to it's possible imminent death. Don't take it personally.

Step 3. Call a cat doctor. Tell them it's important and you need them to save a dying stray kitten you found on the side of the road. Cost is no object.*

Step 4. Obtain a title loan at 845% interest at the nearest money store. The kitten will thank you later.**

Step 5. Make sure the box you put the kitten in has a lid. I sh*t you not.

Step 6. There is no step 6.

If I perform these steps as instructed, does the author guarantee that my kitten will not die? Because of the title, you see. I think it should be titled, "How to try to save a kitten, but it may die anyway. Because this article is a piece of sh*t that I threw together at the last minute so e-how would pay me $4.39."

*unless it is. Then the kitten is screwed.
**or not.

My GPS is trying to kill me. That, or get me fired.

For my job, I drive approximately 95% of the time. I usually drive between 50 and 75 miles a day, and it is imperative that I arrive at my destination in a timely manner. It is also imperative that I arrive at my destination alive.

Not unlike my 8-year-old, my GPS has decided that it is smarter than me, and doesn't have to follow rules.

Here is an example of an interaction between me and my GPS.

This happens on a daily basis.

GPS: Turn left in approximately 250 feet. Then go left.

Me: But Tomtom, your screen shows that I should go right...."

GPS: Shut up.

GPS: In 30 feet, turn right. Then, in 8 miles, make a U-turn. Drive 8.5 miles, then you have reached your destination.

Me: But Tomtom, why should I drive 8 miles one way and then drive 8.5 miles in the opposite direction? All I need to do is turn left and drive .5 miles, right?

GPS: I feel like seeing some sights.

GPS: In 50 feet, turn left. Then continue for 20 feet.

Me: But Tomtom, that's a one way.

GPS: Shut up! This way is faster! You said you wanted faster, not shorter, right? RIGHT?? Welcome to faster b*tch! Now shut up and DRIVE!!!

GPS: In 200 yards, turn left...

Me: *sigh*

GPS: Now, in 15 feet turn left and then.....WAIT!!! I just remembered a shortcut! Quick!! Go right and then make a U-turn!!

Me: But Tomtom!! There's a semi behind me and.....


*screeching of tires, sound of metal grinding against metal, glass shattering, etc*

GPS: beepbeepbeep!!!

Me: What???

GPS: You are driving 55mph in a 40mph speedzone. 55/40. Beepbeepbeep!! Slow down!!

Me: Tomtom, you're wrong! I'm looking at the speed limit sign right now and it says 55mph, so shut up!



GPS: Whatever. In 2 feet, turn left.

Me: What??!! That doesn't even make any sense!! Who has reflexes like that? And besides, THAT'S A BIKE PATH!!

GPS: I know a back way. I found it on mapshare. *rollafattie* uploaded it last night.

Me: THAT PERSON WAS PROBABLY HIGH!!! I mean, come on!! Roll a fattie??? They're just uploading crap to mess with people like me!!

GPS: Really? Bwaaahahahahahahahahhaaa!!!!! That's f*cking AWESOME!!!

I hate my GPS.

5 things I always thought would happen, that didn't

I'm obsessive. I worry about everything. Often. I used to be much worse, I'm better now. I don....shh! Did you hear that? Wait...a....second.....there! You heard it now, right?

I'm joking!!! I bet you thought I was all set to do some lame parody of my fearful self, didn't you? Well, you were wrong.

Here, in no particular order, are 5 things* I thought would happen to me, along with the 5 things that actually did happen, instead. See? You probably thought I was going to just list 5 things, you didn't know you were getting 5 more things! 

Age 9-
1. Due to the general dorkiness of myself, I worried that nobody would ever marry me, thus leading to a perpetually lonely and childless state, which I would offset by being the owner of at least 185 cats.

What actually happened - I met a guy and got married. We know how well that turned out, don't we? I am also the proud owner of two children, who in turn own a guinea pig, a hamster and their late father's senile, arthritic cat.

Age 8-
2. I would suddenly awaken one morning only to find that I had mysteriously gone deaf and blind, necessitating the use of both a tappy-cane and a complete library of the Little House on the Prairie books, in Braille.

What actually happened- I didn't go blind or deaf *YET*. And do you know how hard it is to learn Braille? It's really, really hard.

Age 5-
3. I would lose my first tooth in my sleep, so I didn't have to encounter any blood, gore or pain.

What actually happened- My dad tied a string around my loose tooth, sat me in his lap, told me to close my eyes and pretend we were on a motorcycle ride. After he PROMISED not to pull my tooth, (even though the string was hanging out of my mouth), he said, Oh no! A stop sign! and pulled the string. My tooth went flying across the living room and when we couldn't find it, I cried. Then the tooth fairy left me a $5 bill and that's how I found out that guilt pays.

Age 11-
4. Around Christmas of 1978, after my mother bought me Shaun Cassidy's Born Late, along with KISS' Double Platinum (no, the irony does not escape me), I decided I would either be married to Ace Frehley from KISS, or Shaun Cassidy. On the one hand, Shaun was super cute and had dark blonde hair that feathered perfectly. On the other hand, Ace looked awesome in his black leather catsuits and 8" platforms. And don't even get me started on the mystery of being married to someone and never knowing what they looked like. Makeover party!!!!!

What actually happened -  I read an interview in Tiger Beat which said that Shaun Cassidy had always wished he had a little sister. I saw my chance and immediately wrote him a letter, offering to be his little sister. I figured I'd get my foot in the door and we could worry about sibling/spousal relationships later.   

My "good boy" husband.

My "bad boy" husband. Man, I was complex.

Age 9-
5. My favorite Saturday morning show was The Shazam! Isis Hour. I came to believe that I had all of the powers that Mighty Isis encompassed, such as the ability to read minds, the ability to make objects levitate, the ability to hold back elements, the ability to act as a human lightning rod, and the ability to stop and reverse time. Every Saturday after 11:10am, I walked around the trailer court chanting "Oh zephyr winds that blow on high, lift me now so I can fly!" I communicated telepathically with crows. Plus? I could fly.

What really happened- My bestie, Kristine, who's grandma sold Tussy products, gave me a gold necklace that had a charm filled with old-lady cream perfume. I became convinced that it was my Mighty Isis pendant. I repeated my chant and made Kristine close her eyes while I ran from the swingset to the tree. When she opened her eyes....POOF! Magic. Plus, I went along with her delusional belief that she could become invisible. Shut up.

*This post was originally going to be about 10 things, but I got bored and then Zach started screaming because he wanted to grow some stupid crystals that I bought him at the Museum Store in Chicago yesterday and I said no, it's 8:30 at night and you have school tomorrow. Then he told me I was the worst mom ever and I said no, I'm not. Grandma was, because she let me believe that killer bees were coming to get me when I was 11. Plus? she and Grandpa took me to see scary movies when I was little.  And Grandpa's not much better. Then Zach was all, what do you mean? And I was like, well, all I'm saying is don't fall asleep at their house if you have a loose tooth.

What the hell am I going to write about? F*ck it. Let's just see what happens.

I really don't know what I'm going to write about. I've had a glass of wine, so let's just go with it and see what I come up with.

Let's see. My kids have started counseling, so there's that.

Um. Yeah.

My kids are watching Adventure Time. I personally think that Cartoon Network supplies those writers with a steady stream of hallucinogenic mushrooms, such as Peyote. Just like I'm pretty sure CN buys really good weed for Trey Parker and Matt Stone and then leaves them alone in a room filled with crayons and calzones.

My son took a Spanish test. He got a 67.5%:

But the best part is what he drew on the back of his test: 
Me. Cleaning out the cat box. Happy, shiny poop.

Then there was this: