Presenting ... Snaggletooth!

Formerly the cat known as Bud E. Phat or Toothless.  Alright, it's a misnomer, since he really did have some teeth left after round one of the "They Make Silicon Nuts, But Not Cat Dentures" adventure.  See previous blog "Seriously Nuts"

Ready for Round Two?

Mr. Phat (as he likes to be known to all his favorite vet-tech peeps) had to go visit his adoring groupies at the BV Clinic a week ago since he had been feeling a little un-cat like lately.  Turns out his teeth hurt again ... A LOT.  I don't know how since he hasn't chewed anything harder than Fancy Feast in over a year and what he could have hurt them on is beyond me.  For those of us who did not take Latin in school:  A LOT  is vet-speak for MO' MONEY, Get your wallet out, Mo' Money (sounds a lot like "it's your birthday, get your grove on, it's you birthday.... oh sorry, I'll stop that now). 

Once again Mr. Phat had to have dental work done on his kitty-grill.  If you added up the amount of Cha-Ching I have paid for in cat dental work and divided it by the number of teeth B. Phat now has left in his head, it works out to a little over $200 a tooth. He has 7 ~SEVEN!!! Count them 7 ~ teeth left in his mouth. I have 32 teeth and the most I spend on any one of them is $2.00 for a tube of Colgate.

For being an almost-no-teeth-left cat, Mr. B has a bit of an attitude problem.  First, His Royal-Phat-Ass does not like riding in a carrier. Actually his Royal Fat-Ass can't fit into a cat carrier and it is a lot like watching sausage stuffers at work seeing me try to put him into one.  But I refuse to get a slightly larger dog crate because I am a little "species-iest" and prefer not to mix dog and cat items. Then when we get to the vet, Mr. I'm-Too-Sexy-For-My-Carrier has to be hand carried into the receptionist area and held while I try to fill out paper work and pay for his vet adoration. Once he had endured a hard day being carried, petted, adored and cooed over like P.Diddy at the MTV awards, his Phatness was ready to go home... and I had to bring him back a three days for more teeth yanking.  Guess whom he did not love in this situation?

After A LOT more lovin' by the Vet and vet-techs, Bud now has one lone tooth on the bottom jaw and six scraggily teeth on the top jaw.  Dr. All-My-Money says he should be able to keep his remaining teeth for the rest of his life or until she needs a new car down-payment; whichever comes first.  Mr. B has been riding the Kitty-Jim-Morrison highway for about two days now with all the drugs the vet sent home. ~ Did you know the vet will NOT give you an prescription for Xanax if you happen to be all wigged out about your beloved pet having potentially life-ending surgery, your Coach wallet being surgically emptied and your personal cache of Ho-Ho's being dangerously low?  Yeah, I didn't.  You would think with all the dough I have given that woman, she would have my pharmacy on speed-dial. Anyway, Mr. Phat looks to make a full recovery and be back in the land of Cat-Reality soon. My wallet, however, was D.O.A. 

With that I give you the New and Improved SNAGGLETOOTH.

Blond to the Bone

There are times when I am not the world's smartest person.  I know, you all are shocked to here me admit this, but it is true.  My Mensa-giant moments do come and go.  Case in point.

Couple of years ago I was traveling for a living and had driven to another state to do a client site visit.  I was on my way back when I got pulled over by the police.  I did my damnedest to get out of the ticket, but as luck would have it I managed to be pulled over by the only cop in history to ever write his mother a speeding ticket!!  Anyway, he comes up to the car and informs me that I was speeding.  (Yeah, dude, I was driving the car...I KNOW I was speeding... the more important question is .... Do YOU know how much I was speeding and how much is this going to cost me??)  After realizing that I am not going to be getting out of this ticket the old fashioned way ~ some cops do not take well to flirting.  Go figure. I thought I could maybe try to reason my way out.  (I have watched every Law & Order episode ever made and by pure TV-osmosis learning have a sharp legal mind.)

COP: Miss, we clocked you going 20 miles over the speed limit.  (Whew!  Cause I was actually doing more like 30 - 40.  Who knew a Saturn could haul buns like that?!)

Me: Really? I didn't see you back there.  Are you sure it was me?

COP:  We clocked your car by aircraft radar.

Me: So where was the plane?

COP: (I swear he actually rolled his eyes when he said this)  IN THE SKY!

Thank you and good night.  Yep, I got that ticket and if he could have written me up for being blond while driving, I am sure he would have done it.

Can't Touch This St. Pat!

To all my Irish friends.  

I love ya'all.  I really do.  

I love that you think 24 hours of drinking makes the Irish the king of the booze-hounds.  

I seriously love that you actually managed to get the Catholic church to sanction a full day of booze-hounding. My hat's off to you on that one. ;-)  

I love that if I color my hair red you will accept me as Irish without having to do a family-tree autopsy.... even if my red-hair only lasts 30 washings or until my next trip to the beauty parlor.

Can you feel the love I am sending you, laddies?  

You can?  Good.  Cause I got some news for you.  Twenty-Four hours of booze-hounding does not the King of Booze-Hounds make.  Try Oktoberfest.  Yes, that's right. Thirty-one days of BEER, BEER, BEER and more BEER.    

Brought to you by the same people who think that lederhosen are a serious fashion statement. Thirty-one days when the only arm work out you do is the beer stein curl and everyone looks good ~even in the middle of the day!  

Yep, the Germans may not have been able to dominate the world as they had originally planned; but they seriously kick some Irish arse in the beer-drinking-celebration category.  

Now, if I could only actually go to an Oktoberfest.............

Or drink more than one beer before getting "tipsy" and embracing my German Heritage while single handedly embarrassing two nations...  (I have been told that the term "light weight" doesn't translate to German in any other form than stummer Esel ~dumb ass or literally: mute donkey.)

So on this day of celebrating all things Irish, I say drink up.  Enjoy.  And see you in October. :-)

Taking a Stab at it or All Hail Caesar

Ever heard that saying "Beware the Ides of March"?  Yea, me too.  But I had no idea what it meant.  So I did the Google thing.  ('Cause Google knows everything, except who is going to clean my house if I don't get my lazy butt off the couch sometime soon.  But you would think Google would know these things!  Sheesh!)

The Ides of March?  Just happens to be today (March 15th) and it really has no life altering significance.  It doesn't make winter last longer.  That day belongs to Punxsutawney Phil.  It's not the international-we-all-are-suddenly-Irish-for-24-hours-day.  That day belongs to St. Patrick.  It's definitely not the longest day of the year.  ~Unless you happen to be re-acting the great couch-potato famine of 2007 where certain people didn't leave the couch for 2 days because there was a Law & Order Marathon and they were too lazy to get up to go get food. (Certain people being moi.)  So really, the Ides of March appears to be of absolutely no importance what~so~ever...

Unless you just happened to have been Julius Caesar in about 44b.c.  In which case, March 15th would have been a big pain in the neck....  And the back...  And the chest....  But hey, you would have had some pretty killer friends.  (Somebody stop me before I pun again!)

Oh, what I will do when I am bored out of my skull on a Saturday and am trying to avoid the mountain of cleaning that needs to be done.  Beware the Ides of March and a bored silly blogger.

New from Van Camps Beans

Am I the only one who thought "Oh pork and weenies!" ????

Sorry, giggling my rear off on this one.  Had to share.  Promise not to do this again.  Only original postings from now on.

Back Off Ladies, This One is MINE!!

First, I must tell you about my new found love of the pudding cup.  OMG!! It is the perfect food.  I honestly do not know how people survived taking their lunches to work-school without the pudding cup. Or as I lovingly refer to it as "da puddin' cup".  It's 100 calories (for those who love to count). It comes in all the right flavors (chocolate, white chocolate, and dark chocolate... did I mention it comes in chocolate???, oh yeah and vanilla). Plus the container is recyclable. Ooohh the creamy goodness...

Anyway, the reason I tell you about my new fascination with this wonder of all things pudding is that it has now played a part in my love life as well.....(oh get your mind out of the gutter, this isn't that kind of blog site.) Recently I started seeing someone (We'll call him "New Guy") and because of some geographical issues at first we have had to spend a little more time than usual getting to know each other via the phone.  

During one of our conversations I brought up the greatness that is da puddin' cup and how it is my new favorite munchie.  I must have gone on for hours (ok, it was probably only 15-30 minutes in reality, but for him it must have felt like hours - cause really, how long can you discuss the culinary delights of da puddin' cup?)  Anyway, you are probably asking yourself what does this have to do with my love life and can I really discuss this in a PG rated Blog? Well, hang on to your hats ladies cause this is where it gets good.

New Guy and I go on our first date.  It was great. Everything you could ask for in a first date. Including a very funny and embarrassing moment when the waitress asked if he had just proposed!!! (I'll tell that story later.) We had so much fun we decided to have date number 2 the very next night.  Second date night arrives. Now, occasionally men have been known to bring flowers or chocolates as a nice gift on the second date.  Doesn't always happen, but some men have mamas that raised them right and he brings a little token of his budding affection.  Guess what New Guy brought me???????   DA PUDDIN' CUP!!!!!!  OH YEAH!!! In the delightful chocolate and vanilla swirl pack.  Holy crap, do you know what that means?  He actually listened when I was talking.  Not just that he had the phone to his ear and was making "umms" in all the right spots.  He actually listened to me drool on about da puddin' cup.  OMG!!  Yeah this one's a keeper.  I don't know where this will all lead and I am not one to look a gift pudding cup in the mouth, but color me happy and wish me luck cause this one looks good so far.

FFFRRREEEEEEEDDOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!

Ding Dong. The bug is gone.
The wicked bug?  The wicked bug.
Ding Dong the wicked bug is gone.
Wake up - sleep head, get your shoes, get out of bed.
Run out, the wicked bug is gone!! * My apologies to the Wizard of Oz and all the Munchkins.

I don't know what happened.  One moment it was there.  Three inches from my door. The next it was gone. Damn good thing because the MO has threatened to have a restraining order issued if I called one more time. Personally, I think if I spend what amounts to a small house payment in rent, then I should get the same service I would if I had a house (and a husband i.e. live in maintenance).  'Cause darn-tooting I would have hauled significant other's rear end off the couch and to the front door to remove that HUGE BUG.

I don't know where IT went but if I had to spend one more day held captive by a reject from a Men In Black casting call, I was going to go bonkers.  The maintenance here really sucks.  I can get my leaky faucet fixed in ten minutes, but having my only escape route cleared of all possible man-eating-menaces.... Yeah, someone needs to get their priorities straight here people and I am guessing it ain't me.  

Only now I am afraid IT wasn't dead, but IT has just relocated and is sitting there waiting for me to walk outside my door so it can attack.  I mean, I never actually saw IT die, did I?  And it's not like I was going to crawl out the door, grab one of IT's legs and take a pulse to determine actual death.  (OHHH... moment for creepiness to pass.....) I did mention that large imagination I have when it comes to bugs, right?  What if IT had called in re-enforcements and they are waiting for me in the stairwell? Was I wise to use the entire can of Raid when I first saw IT?  Should I have saved a bit for my gauntlet run to freedom?  Crap, now I am stuck.  

Movie Mania!!

I love movies!!  

I am the QUEEN of Scene It.  (Ok Maj. Stud ~ those few times you happened to win were just flukes!)  So when I saw this on Vanessa's blog I just had to steal the idea.  Plus, it gives me a chance to watch my favorites all over again, especially since that BUG is still outside my door and I may never see the outside world again (more on that later).

THE RULES ~ "Do you want to play a game?" * Bonus quote "War Games":
1. Pick your 10 favorite movies quotes.
2. Post them on blog/website for everyone to guess.
3. Strike out/change font for quote when it is guessed correctly. Identify who guessed it and the movie.
4. GUESSERS: NO GOOGLING/using IMDB search functions. Cheaters will be punished!
5. One movie guess per blogger ~Give others a chance to guess.
6. Put your guesses in the comments.

(Special Rule ~ My Dad and sister DO NOT GET TO PLAY!!! That would not be fair as they are big movie geeks like me and they know my favorite movies.)

Quotes:

1. Get away from her, you BITCH!!~ Aliens. Anonymous-R

2. This was no boat accident. ~Jaws. Anonymous ~Da Mama.

3. The Lord tells me he can get me out of this mess. But, he's pretty sure you're fu**ed. ~Beckie guessed it is from Braveheart.

4. How many people have to die to make it cost efficient for you people to do something about it? A hundred? A thousand? Give us a number so we won't annoy you again until the amount of money you begin spending on lawsuits makes it more profitable for you to save people than to kill them! ~And The Band Played On. Correct guess by clh_95.

5. With enough courage, you can do without a reputation. ~Wendy guessed it!!  Gone With the Wind

6.There's nothing more exhilarating than pointing out the shortcomings of others, is there?

7.Badges? We don't need no stinking badges! * Bonus point for this one, because we all know the quote, but very few remember the actual movie!!  ~Treasure of the Sierra Madre (correctly ID for the Original Movie. Credit also would have been given for Blazing Saddles. BONUS points for knowing the original)

8. I love my dead, gay son.~ Heathers guessed correctly by LA

9. Hold on to your butts!! ~Jurassic Park by an Anonymous post.

10. Licensed to kill gophers by the government of the United Nations. Man free to kill gophers at will. ~Caddy Shack. Won by Lindy.

Ok, Let the games begin.....

Help! I'm Buggin' Out!!!

It's official.  The people at my apartment complex think I am nuts.  THIS THING has been outside my door for three days now.  It's HUGE.  I mean like six inches - HUGE.  And I have a real, highly imaginative and very large fear of bugs. Especially the kind that are six inches long, look like they landed with their own spacecraft and could possible fly off with a small child in their grippy claws.

I called the management office the first day this evil thing appeared and politely asked them to send someone to remove it.  

Ok, it sounded more like this:

Me: "AAAAAHHHHHH KILL IT! KILL IT!  OM MY GAWD KILL IT!!!

MO (Management Office): Ah, ma'am you are going to have to stop screaming. What seems to be the problem?

Me:  ITS ALIVE!! KILL IT KILL IT!! OH MY GAWD IT'S GOING TO KILL US ALL!!!

MO: Ma'am, you have to tell me what "it" is or hang up and dial 9-1-1.

(Which I had previously done, but found out that the police department does not find entomological emergencies on the same level as, oh say, homicidal ones.  Go figure.)

After about five minutes of me hyperventilating and explaining to the office that I can not walk out my door or down the stairwell because this THING was blocking my path, I asked them if they could please remove it.  Although I was told they would "put in a maintenance request" I somehow think no one was taking me seriously.  That was three days ago.  IT is still there...and I haven't left my apartment for fear IT is going to attack me.

Yes, I know it LOOKS dead.  But really?  How do you know?  It could be one of those creatures that plays dead right up until the pray gets close up.... Then WHAM!  It attacks.  Plus, this thing looks scary.  Biblical plague type scary.  Blood sucking scary.  And I am a wimp.  I call my Dad (who lives two states away) to come kill the grasshoppers my cats drag in.  Even though the grasshopper has only one leg left and is limp-hopping to the left in a desperate attempt to flee my Marque de Sade grasshopper-torturing cat before death.  I won't even go outside if the cicadas are out.  I'm sorry, but anything God sends as a plague upon man-kind you know can't be good.  (Ok, Biblical scholars - you say grasshopper; I say cicada.  Get over it.) Plus, they have beady little eyes and you can't kill them.  Not even with your car. Running over them a bazillion times. Forward and reverse.  Not that I tried that for 40 minutes until the sucker finally flew away and I needed to be persuaded out of my car with promises of xanax and Ho-Hos.

Back to the Bugger at hand.  It is still there.  I have called the MO every day asking them to kill it or remove the carcass - whichever works best for them. I don't care.  I just want it GONE. I have fumigated my apartment against any future attacks or incase this guy had friends bent on some six-legged-vendetta.

I have got to leave this apartment.  I am going stir-crazy.  I have eaten all the food in my refrigerator and am now eyeing the cat food in a desperate attempt to stand off starvation.  I'm out of coffee, coke zero and my xanax is dangerously low.  The Ho-Hos were gone after day one.  It is not a pretty site.  I'd call the pizza delivery guy, but unless he can chuck a hand-tossed meat lover's up to my balcony, I'm afraid opening the door is not an option.  I don't know how long I can last.  This may be the end for me......

Some Day My Prince Will Come

Some day my prince will come
Some day we'll meet again
And away to his castle we'll go
To be happy forever I know

Some day when spring is here
We'll find our love anew
And the birds will sing
And wedding bells will ring
Some day when my dreams come true*
*Snow White & the Seven Dwarfs - Disney

Some day my prince will come... Oh whatever!! After almost cough-cough something years of waiting patiently for my prince charming to find his bloody way off that white horse and onto my door step, I have decided that Walt Disney was more full of BS than half the cows in Texas. Being the red-blooded American that I am, I have decided to do the only fully mature responsible-for-my-own-life thing that I can do: I'm going to sue. And ladies, after discussing this with several girlfriends, I have decided to make this a class-action suit. So feel free to hang your hopes on the million dollar settlement instead of the million dollar Prince Charming.  (By adding your name or alias to the comments section.)

Dear Disney:

You are hereby ordered to cease and desist on all stories ending in "Happily Ever After" up to and including any plot lines depicting a Prince Charming, extremely long hair, a frog or deep sleeping any longer than an Ambien induced stupor. You are no longer allowed to create fantasy worlds where ugly ducklings turn into anything but uglier ducks. Furthermore, worlds where young poor indentured servants are turned into anything but older poor indentured laborers are not allowed to exist. Henceforth any mention of pumpkins, magic potions, coma-curing kisses and mice that can sing is strictly prohibited. 

The plaintiffs are seeking reparations for physical and mental anguish inflicted by attempting to wish upon a star. Up to and including emotional trauma/pain & suffering from unfulfilled dreams brought about as a direct result of said movies, resulting in low self-esteem and constant feeling of being a failure, and an inability to form healthy, lasting relationship with any member of the opposite sex as expectations have been set far too high in accordance with Prince Charming fantasy promoted by the accused.

In evidence are:
Exhibit 101 - chapped lips received from slimy frog skin.  
Exhibit 102 - photos of before and after post-possible-prince-charming-break-up bad hair cuts. Many of which have slashed silken long tresses into hideously hopeless messes.
Exhibit 103- roughened and pricked finger tips from spinning classes. 
Exhibit 104 - receipts for multiple refills of xanax needed to calm nerves induced while attempting to live up to unrealistically set "fairy princess" goals.

In addition to above said reparations, petitioners are seeking a full refund on all ball-gowns purchased (to include matching shoes and oh-so-cute clutch purses), any and all fairy godmother make-overs and the cost of Ambein (used to induce deep-sleep in which only a true love could revive the sleeping person). 

In conclusion, the plaintiffs believe that Disney knowingly, willingly and with magic of forth-though conspired to create make-believe "knight in shining armor" to the detriment of rational women everywhere.

Sincerely Yours,

Lisa-tastrophies, et al.

P.s.

And until I get my Prince Charming in full, Disney, the only thing you had better be drawing up is my check.