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


Wednesday, January 19, 2005  

Humpblog (1/19/05)

Thanks to everyone who left bad jokes and poems in the comments yesterday and today. It’s birthday presents like that that help motivate me to make it to the next one.

* * *

One of our new cats, Turtle, does love to clean herself. I was a little worried that she’s started to get OCD about it. When she wasn’t eating, sleeping, or locked in an epic battle with one of the flowers embroidered into the sofa upholstery, she could generally be found giving herself a bath. But the problem is, she doesn’t have that much surface area (although she has more than she did two months ago), so she runs out before she’s done. Which means it’s then time to chase down Phantom and give her a thorough cleaning, whether she wants one or not. These grooming sessions typically end in chasing and screaming, and then both cats smell like Turtle-breath.

Strat, of course, just thumps her and walks away.

But it’s still not enough cleaning for Turtle. She must…clean…more. Which is where we humans come in.

It was kind of sweet last week when I was working at my computer at home and she hopped up on my shoulders so she could carefully and meticulously clean out my left ear. Icky and off-putting, but sweet. Then she jumped down without doing my right ear, so I felt all asymmetrical and out-of-sorts for the next twenty minutes or so. Trash stopped me before I could open a can of tuna and hold it to the side of my head like a cell phone.

What’s less sweet is Turtle’s new habit of cleaning our heads while we sleep. With M. Tiny already on the very verge of sleeping through the night, the last thing we need is a wee, furry, crazy motor going from pillow to pillow at three a.m. and scraping her damp Velcro-hook tongue over our hair and faces.

Pushing her away doesn’t work, because even though she can catch a dangling shoelace, she hasn’t yet learned to catch a hint. So now Trash and I each stash a spare pillow on the floor next to our side of the bed and sandwich our heads between them until she goes away. Or until we wake up in the morning. Whichever comes first.

We’re exploring new frontiers in bed-head, but we were doing that already anyway.

* * *

Commercials tell us that “Diet Dr. Pepper tastes more like regular Dr. Pepper.” More like regular Dr. Pepper than what? Than anything else, one would hope. But even that isn’t a particularly bold claim. Of course, I understand that what they really mean is that “Diet Dr. Pepper bears a stronger gustatory resemblance to its non-diet analogue than other diet sodas do to theirs.” Which, while true, at least in my experience, it’s not exactly catchy. Which forces the marketing people to leave us all to complete the sentence in the way of our choosing.

“Diet Dr. Pepper tastes more like regular Dr. Pepper” than snot does.

“Diet Dr. Pepper tastes more like regular Dr. Pepper” than it tastes like Webster star Alex Karras.

“Diet Dr. Pepper tastes more like regular Dr. Pepper” after a good, sharp poke in the snoot.

Anyway, I picked up a case of Diet Vanilla Cherry Dr. Pepper the other day. That’s a lot going on in one can of soda. I would have preferred non-diet, but I figured that since Diet Dr. Pepper tastes more like regular Dr. Pepper, Diet Vanilla Cherry Dr. Pepper would taste more like regular Vanilla Cherry Dr. Pepper. If such a thing exists.

Much to my disappointment, it tastes more like Diet.

Today’s best search phrase: “Information on poop monkeys.” I’m just going to save you a little time here and tell you that sea monkeys are way more fun to watch.

posted by M. Giant 6:33 PM 9 comments

9 Comments:

What IS it with cats? Chester does the same thing but he only does it to me, not to The Husband.

This is the same cat who hides under the bed during daylight hours if you so much as breathe near him, but once the lights go out, it's impossible to get him to stop loving you. He's nuts.

You know, you could probably save a lot of time and money if you let Turtle wash M. Tiny.

By Blogger Rachel, at January 20, 2005 at 4:47 AM  

Dude! Vanilla-Cherry-DIET Dr. Pepper? Why don't they just add lemon and make a clean sweep of it?

By Anonymous Anonymous, at January 20, 2005 at 7:10 AM  

Oh, I'd give anything for The Licks. I have to deal with The Knead. Cute at first, but not-so at 5 in the morning.

By Anonymous Anonymous, at January 20, 2005 at 12:22 PM  

Oh, man. I had a cat once who was very loving, very affectionate - and was obsessed with cleaning INSIDE MY NOSTRILS.

- JeniMull

By Anonymous Anonymous, at January 20, 2005 at 1:41 PM  

Happy birthday, belated!
I guess I'm just fated
to be a bit slow on the draw,
but nevertheless
I wish all the best
to Trash, M. Tiny, and his pa.
-Strega

By Anonymous Anonymous, at January 20, 2005 at 3:32 PM  

Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper? When did this happen? I used to get cherry vanilla DPs at Sonic, back when I lived in New Mexico, but Sonic does not exist in Chicago, thus I am without the most wonderful drink in the world. Though I'm sure the canned version will suck, I will still buy it when it shows its face.

By Blogger Exxie, at January 20, 2005 at 5:34 PM  

sorry i missed
the birthday boat
and posted in
the wrong entry

i've been in
mock trial boot camp
subsisting on
caffeine
nicotine
and fear

if your kid ever
hits some dude
with a stick
in a dark alley
and gets sued
you know where
to find me

this is not
really a poem
i just hit
return
a lot

happy birthday
-lawre

By Anonymous Anonymous, at January 20, 2005 at 7:20 PM  

M.Giant...belated Happy Birthday!

Reading about Turtle and her licking...our cat Maia bathes herself so often that she has no hair left on all four legs, her stomach, and the base of her tail. I guess she can't reach the other places on her body too well (she's 13), otherwise she'd look like one of those inside-out cats! The vet did diagnose her with OCD, which amazed me! Whoever thought animals could get that kind of disease! He has administered shots which stop the licking for about a month, but then she starts again, so I figure why bother.

My best to you, Trash, and especially M. Tiny! I have a 9-month old son, and babies are such a joy! He's young yet, but wait 'till he starts crawling around. It's so much fun! My son was born with a cleft palate, so I know all about the search for the special Ross nipples. We got a stash from the hospital, but that's slowly dwindling.

Kat from New Jersey

By Anonymous Anonymous, at January 21, 2005 at 7:55 AM  

Ok... that Dr.Pepper post is just scary...

( see my entry from September... http://doctorsilence.blogspot.com/2004/09/slogan-that-drives-me-mad.html )

I hope to hell you plagiarized it, because the alternative is, quite frankly, a bit creepy.

dr dave (doctorsilence.blogspot.com)

By Blogger Dave, at January 22, 2005 at 7:41 AM  

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