Drive-in Double Feature: I Can Has Blog? with A Conversation with My Cat Props to The Other J. for restoring the blogginess to my blog after a technological hiatus. This is why, when I was serendipitously seated at a table with our English III teacher from 1989 at some friends' wedding semi-recently, she remembered The Other J. but not me. (She did remember me after some discussion, but him she remembered immediately.)

Ladies and gentlemen, the pride of Madison, Wisconsin, The Other J.

:polite applause:

Now, ok. We're trying to figure out if we can deal with having a dog. I revisit this idea every year and take the emotional temperature of Baldo, who has been shit-ass petrified of dogs ever since he was a young toddler and the neighbors' boxer puppy, Rocky, wound up in our living room under a certain set of whimsical circumstances. Rocky was just a boxer puppy, exuberant. And he peed kind of everywhere because he was so pumped to be in a new house he couldn't hold it. Since then he has been responsibly trained and is of course an excellent dog. But my god it scarred my kid, who'd subsequently climb me like a kitten whenever a dog was around. Once a Yorkie chased him, and that sucked too. I've tried to get him used to dogs; he knows several nice family dogs. Because he reads stories about dogs and plays dogs and is otherwise showing me signs of Family Dog.

But really it's up to Baldokitty.

I'm not a super dog-type person. I'm used to cats. With cats it's like this:

Me: Hey, you want out of the pound/out of the sewer/down from that tree/to become socialized with humans?

The cat: Maybe. What's the deal?

Me: Well, I could feed you regularly, keep you alive and sheltered, and let you make biscuits on the parts of my abdomen that are still numb from my caesarian.

The cat: Okay. But I'm going to wake you up at 5:30 doing something. Maybe I'll stand on you ominously.

Me: For that you have to be awesome.

The cat: How's that?

Me: You need an X factor. Like, you only play when no one is looking, and I catch you and it's really funny. Or you chase a laser pointer like that YouTube cat.

The cat: So I'm your schlemiel?

Me: Yes.

The cat: I want shrimp-flavored cat crack.

Me: Vet says cut you off. But we have a catnip plant in the yard.

The cat: And I'm out of here?

Me: Today.

The cat: That'll work.

Dogs are a swirling vortex of need. However, they are also a swirling vortex of love.

Sigh.

chigger please Various things have gotten interesting, but the one I want to talk about now is my chigger problem.

"What, have you been sitting in a meadow?" Aunt K. asked.

Nope.

"It's too cold for chiggers," said Sheila. "Are you sure they aren't fleas?"

I showed her.

"Those sure look like chiggers," she assented.

Early yesterday morning I was dreaming that I was back in high school, and although I told myself in the dream that I finished high school in 1990 and could leave if I wanted, I couldn't seem to get up from my desk.

Oh, and - something was biting me. Like, literally.

It wasn't the first time. Like many Texans, I have Actual Scars on My Parts from chiggers.

Next step: Defoliate the yard, then scorch the earth.

aw hell naw Tom Cruise You guys are sweet, but please stop forwarding me that video of whatever Tom Cruise is doing. I don't even know exactly what it is, but based on the comment surrounding it, I don't think I want it imprinted at all on my neocortex. I might have to take more meds or something.

Fluffy little kittens. Fluffy little kittens. Fluffy little kittens.

fuck you, mail Two alumni magazines, the gas bill, and a miniature sample copy of Women's Health, which tells me how fat I am.

Seriously. Fuck you, mail.

IKEA Today we went to IKEA, and despite its practical Swedish detail, its inexpensive cafeteria (Baldo and I ate for $6, including a piece of apple cake), and its child care facility, it was like walking into the Mouth of Hell never to return again. I can't tell you how many times I've run into somebody today, or they into me, while wandering around. I can't take that for long periods of time.

At the end of the gauntlet a Nice IKEA Lady helped me. I'm pretty close to my period, so I was all, "Thank you, Nice IKEA Lady!" on my knees sobbing.

no bags I wasn't there when my motherfucking awesome grocery store gave away free reusable bags, but I'm building up a stash of them at $.99 each time I shop.

I don't make resolutions, but I am going to try to use fewer plastic bags. Because seriously? Oil hit $100 a barrel. Lone trader? Who knows? Who cares? I don't care. If it sells for $100 a barrel, don't put it in a landfill in the form of a disposable bag. Jesus Christ, those bags are everywhere already.

My real answer: Carry a giant East Texas old lady purse and put your shit in that. I put a cartridge of toner in mine today. When I have a problem on my hands, I go with the East Texas old lady solution because that's my destiny. Maybe it's not so much yours.

arson/-ist Dude, whoever you are, please stop setting fire to KOOP, okay? You have an issue with the board or whatever, fine. Hell, if I burned every place in town that ever gave me a problem, there'd be not much left standing. Just please: do not burn the radio station.

food/allergies "No good evidence for avoiding certain foods during pregnancy," sez the American Academy of Pediatrics, reversing its earlier stance of "Aw hell naw peanut-butter sandwich."

bring back the e While I'm being a crank, can I just put in a vote for restoring the letter e to the English language? Flickr? Tumblr? That shit? Put the e back, y'all. Quit naming your companies with the approximate spelling of a five-year-old.

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