of cat-drama and birdcages
May. 13th, 2006 04:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thejunipertreeI was drug out to accompanied the Engineer to an art gallery opening last night. The art gallery being owned by one of his co-workers, Katrina, and in Moorestown. Upon manuvering my massive land yacht of a car into a parking space, some nasty bitch nasty bitched out her car window at me about not using my turn signals. Which, the joke is on her, because I did. I let her know all about that through my own open window, with a cheerful and hearty "Blow me!"
So full of class, I am. It's coming out of my ears.
Later on, I took him to the record store to pick out a birthday present (which, now that I think about it, is ever-so happy eighth birthday).
In the store, I was all Oh hello, new Dresden Dolls album.
And it was all Oh hi! I totally forgot to let you know I was in town.
And I was all That is quite alright, but you're going to have to come live with me now, especially since you are on SALE.
The exact exchange also happened with a dvd of the original The Hills Have Eyes and a Curve cd that I've been looking for since tenth grade.
Today found me wearing a Creature from the Black Lagoon shirt and buying a bird cage for no bird to live in at Target. I'm feeling a bit wibbly, but I'm not entirely sure why. I'm also not entirely sure what the hell wibbly is supposed to mean in these circumstances, but there you go.
Oh! Also!
Yesterday, as the Engineer and I were leaving to head to the gallery, I totally broke up a cat fight on the front lawn of the apartment building. Huge and Striped Cat, the cat who likes to come around to my apartment windows and antagonize my cats about being indoor, pampered wusses, was brawling with a black and white monster that could double for my Tinker, if Tinker were to be wearing white knee-highs instead of white mittens.
I clapped my hands and shouted at them, but as cats currently embroiled in cat-drama, they ignored me. I am used to this, being very well aquainted with cat-drama. So, I marched up to them and yelled for them to knock it off. They ignored me again and continued rolling around in a ball of flying fur, screeching and teeth. All of this was beginning to draw a crowd (the lady from across the street came out of her house, the Engineer was still on the sidewalk telling me to quit it, and one of the other apartment people was getting out of their car and walking up).
This is now the time on Sprockets when I unleashed the Purse of Doom (tm) on their ridiculous, fighting selves. I started lightly smacking them with the bottom of my purse, dipping it down inbetween them to get them separated because even I know that one should probablynot put one's arms or hands inbetween seriously fighting cats unless one is wearing plate armour or Kevlar, or perhaps even plate armour and Kevlar.
The cats separated, momentarily, and were walking all stiff-legged and poufy-tailed and sideways at each other. I yelled and clapped my hands, which caused them to just start fighting farther away from me. At one point, their roiling fight-ball rolled across the grass, bumped up against a curb and shot down the asphalt of the driveway. It was like watching someone kick a beachball against a curb.
They finally stopped once I chased them into the bushes of someone's house, shouting things like Black Cat! Knock that shit off! and probably looking like a damn fool.
Instead of mortuary school, maybe I should look into being a bouncer? When the patrons get unruly, I can just smack them with purse and shout at them about how they're acting silly.
So full of class, I am. It's coming out of my ears.
Later on, I took him to the record store to pick out a birthday present (which, now that I think about it, is ever-so happy eighth birthday).
In the store, I was all Oh hello, new Dresden Dolls album.
And it was all Oh hi! I totally forgot to let you know I was in town.
And I was all That is quite alright, but you're going to have to come live with me now, especially since you are on SALE.
The exact exchange also happened with a dvd of the original The Hills Have Eyes and a Curve cd that I've been looking for since tenth grade.
Today found me wearing a Creature from the Black Lagoon shirt and buying a bird cage for no bird to live in at Target. I'm feeling a bit wibbly, but I'm not entirely sure why. I'm also not entirely sure what the hell wibbly is supposed to mean in these circumstances, but there you go.
Oh! Also!
Yesterday, as the Engineer and I were leaving to head to the gallery, I totally broke up a cat fight on the front lawn of the apartment building. Huge and Striped Cat, the cat who likes to come around to my apartment windows and antagonize my cats about being indoor, pampered wusses, was brawling with a black and white monster that could double for my Tinker, if Tinker were to be wearing white knee-highs instead of white mittens.
I clapped my hands and shouted at them, but as cats currently embroiled in cat-drama, they ignored me. I am used to this, being very well aquainted with cat-drama. So, I marched up to them and yelled for them to knock it off. They ignored me again and continued rolling around in a ball of flying fur, screeching and teeth. All of this was beginning to draw a crowd (the lady from across the street came out of her house, the Engineer was still on the sidewalk telling me to quit it, and one of the other apartment people was getting out of their car and walking up).
This is now the time on Sprockets when I unleashed the Purse of Doom (tm) on their ridiculous, fighting selves. I started lightly smacking them with the bottom of my purse, dipping it down inbetween them to get them separated because even I know that one should probablynot put one's arms or hands inbetween seriously fighting cats unless one is wearing plate armour or Kevlar, or perhaps even plate armour and Kevlar.
The cats separated, momentarily, and were walking all stiff-legged and poufy-tailed and sideways at each other. I yelled and clapped my hands, which caused them to just start fighting farther away from me. At one point, their roiling fight-ball rolled across the grass, bumped up against a curb and shot down the asphalt of the driveway. It was like watching someone kick a beachball against a curb.
They finally stopped once I chased them into the bushes of someone's house, shouting things like Black Cat! Knock that shit off! and probably looking like a damn fool.
Instead of mortuary school, maybe I should look into being a bouncer? When the patrons get unruly, I can just smack them with purse and shout at them about how they're acting silly.
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Date: 2006-05-15 04:36 am (UTC)It's a fancy one that birds aren't actually meant to live in.
I have a serious problem with birdcages. I don't know why, but I'm drawn to them. I own probably about six of them, but only two are actually in the apartment. The rest are in my dad's basement.