As If LOLCats Weren’t Enuff

Now we has loldogs:

moar cute puppy pictures

WHEN WILL THE MADNESS END!?!?!?!

That’s It. I’m Turning Hermit

If this is an indication of how dumb this world is becoming, I’m glad we’re getting closer to being self-sufficient at our house.  If I could only figure out how to make electricity from horse manure . . .

It’s clearly not safe to leave the house anymore.  Not with people like this on the road:

 A 22-year-old carnival worker blames two friends having sexual intercourse in the back seat of his car for an accident in which his Chevrolet S-10 Blazer struck a telephone pole.

Two words: PULL OVAH!! 

Meowch

Last night was quite the adventure.  Skyler, my cat, was on top of the freezer, and I shushed him off of it because, as he well knows, he’s not supposed to be up there. 

Exactly why he chose to try and jump through the flypaper strip hanging there, I don’t know, but after he ran around the house with it wrapped entirely around his body and tail I managed to catch him.  Peeling off the flypaper without leaving bald strips was only the first half of the fun.  Giving him a bath for an hour, using every type of soap I had on hand in an attempt to get the stickyness off of his fur to no avail was the other half. 

Having to trim the sticky fur off of his tail with him meowing at me: well, that wasn’t any fun at all.  Although I have to be fair and say he never tried to scratch me once.  He tried to claw his way out of the tub, yes, but he won’t use his claws on me.  He loves his Daddy, you see. 

Although I did get the cold shoulder for the rest of the night. 

And I don’t think Norm has stopped laughing yet.

Once More, Into The Breach

I’ve recently rediscovered that it’s the small things in life that truly bring me joy.  Such as the ability to breathe through both nostrils. 

I spent the last six days mostly asleep, battling one of the most debilitating cases of the flu that I’ve ever had.  That’s not hyperbole; when you find that you must dress up in flannel and long pants in order to feed the horses, and it’s in the 90′s outside, that’s when you know you’re sick. 

At the beginning of last week (actually, the Friday before, to be precise), Norm and & accompanied his sister to the Champlain Valley Fair in order to assist her with the Horse Exhibit, which showcased different breeds of horses and their corresponding various uses and enjoyments.  I’d been unaware of exactly the situation for this particular exhibit, and next year we’ll be better prepared.  Thousands of visitors essayed through the tent, stopping to ask questions and pick up business cards, and to check out the horses we’d brought to exhibit.  Next year we’ll be bringing Flair, our Blue Roan Stallion, who, it turns out, is in very high demand as a sire.  ($$$!!!)  Good thing we didn’t have him gelded.    This year, however, we’d only brought Norm’s sister’s pony and Appendix (a horse breed, not the unneeded organ) Bay Roan Mare (daughter of our brood mare, Natasha), but the exposure and contacts made were exceptionally helpful.  Business cards flew out of the basket almost as quickly as we could replace them. 

Flare is going to be a busy, and probably happy, Stallion in the coming months.  No pun intended. 

On Tuesday I returned to work to find that my boss was out sick with pneumonia.  Not to be outdone, my body proceeded to find the worst possible virus it could and planted it firmly in my chest.  By Wednesday morning I had acquired a cough that could not be attributed entirely to my nicotine addiction.  By Wednesday afternoon my employees were urging me–at arm’s length–to go home.  Thursday morning I awoke in a cold sweat, coughing loudly enough to scare the nesting birds outside, nose dripping, and thought a shower would do me a world of good.  After almost fainting in the shower I decided to call in sick.  By Thursday afternoon I was dizzy every time I tried to even sit upright, opened the drawer with the Nyquil, and surrendered to blissful sleep.  On Friday we were supposed to return to the fair to show Norm’s sister’s minis, but my body was having none of it.  I called in sick again to work and slept about 20 of the next 24 hours. 

This morning I finally felt well enough to leave the house, and surprise!!  Just in time to return to work. 

So how was your holiday weekend?

Perspective

Years ago I was a vegetarian, and a member of PETA.  For three years I ate no meat, and supplemented my diet in numerous ways, as many vegans do, in order to spare the poor creatures from the slaughter. 

Well, needless to say, I got over it.  Gimme a good steak and some A1 and I’m ready to go.  Oh, I still enjoy a good pita with horseradish cheddar, hummus, sprouts, lettuce, mustard, peppers (making myself hungry here).  In fact, perhaps the best thing about being a vegetarian was the forced exposure to varied cuisines, and my acquisition of some *ahem* refined tastes.  As a result I currently eat a varied diet of fresh foods from all groups and mainly try to stay away from preservatives as much as sanely possible.  And I do shy away from the fast food.  The only time Norm & I eat out is for Chinese food every couple of weeks, and most of what I eat there is veggies and chicken.  But overall we eat very healthily by any standard. 

I give you this background so that you won’t think I’m an uninformed jackass when I say this: some of you people have got to get a GRIP.  It’s bad enough that we have pet food imported from China that kills our pets (not mine, thankfully, but still . . .).  It’s offensive that transportation costs have driven up my grocery bill by 35% in the past 6 months.  It’s downright scary that we have to worry about “mad cow” and “avian flu” and tainted peanut butter and bad canned stew, etc, etc. 

But today I saw this ad on Alternet:

This a beyond zealous.  It’s downright cuckoo.  What’s next?  McDonald’s having to pipe soothing music into their soybean fields so the beans don’t get depressed?  Don’t get me wrong, I’m all against animal cruelty, but these are birds we’re talking about.  With a brain the size of a pea.  I just can’t bring myself to feel badly if they are in cramped quarters.  If they don’t like it, fry ‘em up and see how they like that. 

Seems like I’ve come a long way from animal rights activist, eh?  That’s because I have.  I love animals, as Norm can certainly tell you (and he’d not be with me if I didn’t).  But I’ve learned that if I’m going to get worked up over creatures being confined to cramped quarters, I’m going to worry about humans first.  Like the children huddled over looms in India, forced to work to pay off their families loans. 

When we start treating all people like people, then I’ll feel bad for the chickens.