I've always been the one to blame

I'm really tired and hurty right now. I've been sitting online, looking up information on how to bind of while knitting and bemoaning the state of my back/right shoulder, which is very sore.

I don't know what I did to it, but I had to have done something as it's quite painful and has been for the past three days. Driving to Delaware today didn't help matters any, either.

Later this week, if I get the time, I'm going to begin a draft of a letter to the director of "feardotcom" demanding he refund the $4.55 it cost me to rent his movie this evening, as it was the WORST film I have ever seen in my life. I truly don't understand how dreck like this gets funded, let alone even made. Taking the money and folding each bill into a little origami paper hat would be much more entertaining, I would say.

A few million paper hats. Now THAT'S fucking entertainment.

----

Reading another entry on my friends list regarding an outside cat being taken away by the Humane Society has gotten me to thinking about Hecubus again. Something that I don't like doing, as it makes me extremely depressed.

See, Hecubus was a cat that Cheshire and I had. He'd been found on the street. Actually no, that's wrong. He found us. He walked right up to Cheshire as he was on his way to the store and commenced rolling around on his feet. Cheshire took him home to me (he was little enough to barely fill the palm of his hand, at that point) and I immediately fell in love.

This tiny little striped cat eventually grew to gargantuan proportions. Not fat, but he was built like a Mack truck. Tall and long with enormous feet and a tree branch tree. He was my hell raiser. I remember numerous times coming home and finding the living room decimated by a Hecubus rampage. Or being downstairs and hearing a loud crash coming from my bedroom, only to find that he'd single handedly wiped out everything on my dresser. He was our Ghetto cat. Our FSU (fuck shit up) cat.

I loved this cat, I loved him so much.

After I moved out of the house, he somehow got out. I think it was a case of the basement window being broken and no one knowing about it. He had gotten accidentially locked in the laundry room and had pushed his way out through the busted window, never to be seen again. I cried for hours after I'd been told, feeling helpless and sick. Being the person I am, I laid all the blame on myself. If I hadn't moved out, this wouldn't have happened. If I had been a better cat owner, this wouldn't have happened. etc, fucking etc. You know the drill by now, I'm sure.

I'd like to think that he found some nice person to take him in, rolling around on their feet as they walked to the store just as he had done to Cheshire. It would be nice if he found a home that was warm when it needed to be, had lots of good food, and toys to be torn apart. But, when the weather gets cold, as it is now, or it's raining...I get bombarded by evil little images of what his life would be like if he was still living outside. And it kills me. It gives me nightmares, I tell you.

It's been about two years since he disappeared.

He was such a personable cat, it's hard to believe that someone /wouldn't/ have taken him in. I know that there's millions of other soft hearted schmucks like myself out there, full of googly eyed kitty love and who can't resist some goofy tabby bumping up against their legs and making little mrrrping sounds.

He had to have been taken in. He just had to have.

:/

bless you!

The cat sneezed in my face this morning, as I was lying abed and not wanting to unravel from my blanket.

I am utterly, utterly horrified at this.

I stole this from Carrie, who stole it from Sean, who stole it from Emily

What's the first thing you remember wanting to be when you grew up? A fairy. With long blonde hair and blue wings.

Describe a dream you remember: Iceland.

What colour are your sheets? baby blue. With darker baby blue polka dots.

What song is in your head right now? "It's a sin" by the Pet Shop Boys

Where are you? Goblin Market

I am afraid of: zombies and being pregnant.

Your day job/dream job: day job is mortgages. Dream job is mortician.

What movie have you seen the most times? hrrmm. Stand By Me. I think at last count, I'd seen it about 87 times. heh.

One question for Jesus, or Buddha or Muhammed, etc: Buddha. Can I rub your head?

The guilty pleasure you'd really rather not admit to here: happy hardcore ^_^

Comfort food of choice:huevos rancheros!

What's the last video you rented? feardotcom. Don't do it, I beg of you. Just don't do it.

Who do people say you look like? I've heard quite a few different ones. Some of them laughable, some of them not. Caroline Blind, Wednesday Addams, Thora Birch, Tairrie B., Carrie. ;)

What's the bane of your existence? this ghetto booty of mine

What's the last thing you found on the ground and picked up? hmm. a dime.

Where would you like to grow old? with my friends.

A word of wisdom:Don't pick your feet on my bed.

The question you get asked ALL THE TIME!!!: "How many tattoos do you have?"

When was your last hospital visit? This summer, I spent a lot of time in the hospital. But, not for my own use.

The last thing you said out loud:"Did you get any of the cottage cheese?"

Current clothing: black velvet scoop neck top. black lace ankle length skirt. black stockings. Platform Mary Janes.

Your favourite season: autumn.

In my last lifetime I was probably: a Druid elder who was also a Freemason and started a heriditary Wiccan clan. *googly eyes* My pendulum told me so. (1.)



(1.) This is fucking sarcasm and an inside joke.