M. Giant's
Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks

Wednesday, August 04, 2004  

Humpblog (8/04/04)

Far be it from me to plug Bill O'Reilly's show under normal circumstances, but there's a good chance that my boss is going to be on tonight. Apparently Bill's people called and said they'd like to invite him on the show to "promote" his new book. Wasn't that nice of Bill? Helping an unapologetic liberal like my boss promote his political tome? Maybe Al Franken has read him all wrong, you know? In any case, I'm looking forward to tonight's bipartisan love-fest on Fox News.

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Strat, Strat, the Diabetic Cat is doing very well. I brought him to the vet the other day and there was nothing but good news. We've got his blood sugar balanced and his insulin dosage stabilized at three units a day. He's back up to a healthy weight: twelve pounds, which is three pounds fewer than his fuzzy-Butterball™-turkey maximum of fifteen yet an encouraging two over his supermodel minimum of ten.

The vet said that she'd like to see Strat stop gaining weight now. Easy for her to say.

Since his diagnosis last December, he's been getting dry food in the morning and a forkful of diabetic soft food in the evening so he has something in his tummy when he gets his second shot of the day. In order to stop his weight gain, we're splitting the day's dry food in half so he gets some before each injection. He'd probably be upset about this if he were smart enough to notice the change.

Or maybe he just realizes that the change means he doesn't have to go back to the vet until December (although the likelihood of his making that cognitive leap is roughly equivalent to that of his inventing fusion). I won't say how I got Strat into the pet carrier this time, but I will say that he learned to his chagrin that the expression "caught napping" isn't always an expression.

Of course, once he's in there and safely transported inside the vet's office, you need a shoehorn and a tranq gun to get him back out. Funny, that.

After they were finished with him in the back room—during which time, the assistant reported, Strat had himself a little accident—he was so eager to get back into the box that he tried cramming his head in between the wires of the door. And when I opened it, he wouldn't back up enough to get an understanding of the situation, preferring instead to try to squeeze back into the box through the hinge side of the entrance.

Quite the brain trust, that cat of mine. I'm hoping he will have forgotten all about how much he hates the vet's office by December. But with my luck, he will have forgotten all the specifics and will only retain an association with atavistic terror: "Aaah! Box! Panic! Fear! Death! Must poop on nearest human!"

I think it'll be Trash's turn to bring him in by then.

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For some reason beyond the grasp of my own primitive mind, SiteMeter ate all of my hits from Saturday. I have no idea what that's about. I do know I was getting hits at the time, though, so don't be trying to trick me into thinking I was the subject of some secret one-day boycott.

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I saw The Village this past weekend. I tell you, I've never paid to sit in a movie theater and then been so embarrassed for a team of actors and filmmakers in my entire life.

But then the trailer for Taxi ended and I got over it.

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Have you voted for the Tubey Awards at Television Without Pity yet? Or are you going to leave all of the voting to people who aren't you? Yeah, I thought so. Voting ends August 8th at midnight.

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Today's best search phrase: "Girl phlegm humiliation." I'm sure I don't have to tell you where this falls on the scale from Zero to Dear God I Don't Even Want To Know.

posted by M. Giant 6:33 PM 0 comments


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