It may get hairy…

Posts tagged ‘kittens!’

We all kick bum

Quick note, as I’m running around like an unlucky chicken:

We hit 2000 views yesterday!!

Yay! Ok, it’s not much in comparison to your average blog, but baring in mind my unstable blogging style, it’s freaking AWESOME!

Quick side note: Slash and the Handbag dog had a Mexican standoff last night. Slash sitting calmly on the steps, a meter away from Handbag dog, while Boggle-eyes goes bat-shit crazy, running loops and barking like mad. Each time he ventured to Slash, Slash took one threatening step towards him and he bolted….which is when Slash started to stalk him.

I’m so proud 🙂

Now back to being an unlucky chicken.

Slash vs the Handbag dog

This lasted a good 1.5 hours. The only time Slash moved, was to advance. So, so proud 🙂


“It’s beginning to look a lot like”….a lot of bloody work

Last night, I donned my Christmas hat, got out my wine and unpacked all the Christmas decorations.

I’d like to place an emphasis on ‘all.’ Let’s remember that I’ve been away for nigh on two years and have had no decorations throughout that time, so I looked forward to coming back, calmly putting up the lights and decorations and moving on.

So I put up my tree and unpacked my decorations. The result was this:

In case you were wondering, all those things around the lamp are lights. All the things on the coffee table are lights. I have, I think, 12 sets of working lights.

Can someone please tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do with them?

I’m not good when given choices. Set me on my way with one route and I’ll go that way (as long as I have the illusion of freedom). Don’t give me 12 sets of lights! It took me roughly 45 minutes just to decide which ones to put on the tree.

I put them all on. Checked them. Moved them. Nudged them into symmetry (OCD). And then decided they sucked. So replaced the coloured lights with another set. Then added the original set. Then realised it was too crowded and took the new set off.

Last night, I started at about 7pm and ended at 11pm. Not drunk, because I was too busy faffing with bloody lights to drink. I managed to put up a wreath (very pretty, I must say, even if done over the monkey/kitten mesh), put up my tree and put the lights on said tree. That’s it. There are no baubles. There are two pieces of tinsel on the tree. Nothing else.

And this morning I woke up, looked at the tree and thought ‘Fuck it, we’ll have to start again.’

Does anyone else have this kind of OCD or is it just little ol’ me?

On that note, the baubles come next.

“Rest ye merry gentlemen” my arse…

Side note: Four stockings. There is one person in this house. My folks have their own. What was I thinking? About 10 random wall hanging things. Seriously? Old Sez, what the hell were you thinking? Tacky much? A packet of Reindeer Food…with, dear lord, two-year old chocolates in. Three or four decorative mini trees (wire and bead ones). 9 hats…although those are cool, if they survive the kittens. GARDEN decorations and outside lights that no longer work.

Top 10 Christmas List – It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted, not that many’d notice ;), but I haven’ t had much to chat about. Things are alright and I find that when I’ve nothing to be pissed at, writing doesn’t come all that easily.

SO, in celebration of the season, I’m going to list why I absolutely freaking love Christmas, even if I’m not allowed to celebrate it yet (although, the Mammoth doesn’t have those restrictions, hence his festive hat).

Firstly, I’m not religious. For those that don’t know, the fact that I don’t burn up when I walk into a church is nigh on a miracle. Having been to a convent (albeit for only a few years) and forced to lie in confession, I’m slightly against the whole religious thing, although I envy the religious few I know…comfort and all that.

Nope, Christmas for me is all about me! Well, just about everything. It’s the one time of year that everyone has to be happy. Yes, it can be sad and horrible for a few. The last  two years were difficult for me, as I hadn’t my family with to celebrate, so I tried to ignore everything remotely festive, but this year, I’m going to ignore all that negativity and be one of those ridiculously cheery people that go around humming “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.”

So, my favourite bit of Christmas is decorating the house, which family tradition dictates I can do on the 8th. I wait until around 8pm, turn the lights down low, put either Christmas songs or some slow, funky, hip wavering music on and then I pour myself a rather large glass of wine and get a mince pie. As it’s summer, I’m dressed in almost nothing (another reason I prefer this tradition to be alone, we wouldn’t want to blind anyone or leave them scarred) and I slowly decorate my house, with more than a modicum of OCD (symmetry has it’s place even in Christmas) and proceed to get tanked.

I do not clean up. I most often pass out on the couch and wake up to a god-awful mess and accompanying god-awful headache on my birthday…

This year I’m looking forward to dressing the Guns in tinsel and taking a ridiculous amount of pictures; Ballot, the Yellow Rat Snake, has already been given a Christmas house, as he crushed his last one a few days ago; and I will start wearing my Christmas earrings from the 9th.

So, my top ten things at Christmas:

  1. Christmas Songs! My favourites being Jingle Bell Rock, It’s Beginning to look a lot like Christmas, and All I Want for Christmas is you. Oh, wait, I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas, Frosty the Snowman … oh bugger it, I love ’em all!
  2. Mince pies. The nice ones, with loads of sugar on the top and the ones that don’t fall apart when you bite into them.
  3. Red wine…loads and loads and loads of red wine.
  4. Lights! My house lights up like a UFO.
  5. Memories. Mainly the ones that come from decorations. I have a pair of little porcelain boots that were given to me at my Christening.
  6. Biscuits – the crunchy ones and lots of them. I always buy a massive tin around the 9th.
  7. Strange smiling. It’s the one time of the year that I can smile at strangers, without them taking a step backwards or averting their eyes. They actually smile back. Granted, I do this throughout the year, but it’s nice to have it returned
  8. The Magic. There’s a buzz, a magic, in the air that just makes me smile non-stop. People go out of their way to help you. Share stories and chat with you more than they normally would. I know it should be like this year-round, but I can’t help but appreciate the small amount of time it does happen.
  9. Kids. I envy all the new mums and the mums and dads of toddlers, who get to partake in that age-old tradition of Christmas Tales. Whether he’s Santa, Father Christmas or St Nick, kids have this endless energy, optimism, excitement and their own special magic that makes watching them worth every second of preparation and every penny you’ve spent on Christmas.
  10. “But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be
    On your own front door.”*


So what’re your favourite things about Christmas? The weirder, the better I say! Comment below!

*PS. For the sad and melancholy few, I’m really sorry. I do know the feeling, regardless of the above cheer. Here’s a virtual hug from me to you –  [    you    ].

The world is a vampire*

So I’ve had some time for retrospection and feel a need to ramble some.

I’m fully aware that to publicly accuse someone can have severe consequences. I didn’t really think those consequences through, but in hindsight, I feel I can forgive myself this slip of impulsiveness (I want to write ‘impulsivity’, and although Wikipedia says I’m right, Firefox says I’m wrong).

I know I some times make jokes to make things seem lighter and less serious – partly for others’ sakes, as it’s never nice having your wall/inbox filled with negativity, but it’s also partly for me. When something hits me really hard, I can’t just grieve, or get mad, a part of me has to keep it within and that’s the part that jokes, so that no one knows exactly how I feel.

The anger I have at this man goes beyond words. I’m angry because he lied, I’m angry because he lied to me for so long, but most of all I’m angry because he hurt an entirely innocent animal. Yes, the abuse wasn’t beating her, or kicking her, but was neglectful abuse – to me that makes it no less cruel.

I’m also aware of my part in this. Regardless of what the end result was, I shouldn’t have left her with someone else. I should have stayed in SA, instead of dropping everything and going traveling. Leaving Nibbles and Shadow was probably the hardest part of my traveling (as you can explain when you’ll be back to humans), but remorse doesn’t justify actions.

I know I’m facing criticism (unsaid, but definitely implied) in leaving my cats, firstly, in publicly accusing him, secondly, and in ‘replacing’ Shadow with the Guns.

I hope those that know me, know me well enough to know that nothing could replace Shadow and that I would never attempt to ‘replace’ any animal. The Guns were acquired because they needed me and, perhaps in part, because I needed them. Both the Guns and Shadow are (perhaps was, in the latter case, which breaks my heart) very sociable and, should I have gotten Shadow back, I would have had to get her company regardless, so the aim was to have three cats in total.

My dreams last night showed me just how much this has affected me. I went to bed early, because my pc had decided to join forces with my conscience and wouldn’t let me play the episode I was hoping would help me forget my woes….thus, my guilt took hold.

In hindsight, the dream was humorous, but shortly after midnight (at which stage I’m usually not yet asleep), I woke sweating and grabbing for the Guns. I had dreamt that Eric Northman (vampire from True Blood, who has only ever seemed delicious rather than dangerous to me) owned the Guns and had kept them for his ill-will. I set out to rescue them from some interminably clichéd abandoned barn and got quite far, after several attempts and almost run-ins with ‘bad guys.’ Eventually, I got the Guns in the car, locked up and started the car…only to find picturesque Eric sitting next to me, gun in hand (literal gun, not a kitten), which is when I woke up.

It sounds stupid, as most dreams are, but I woke realising that I’m not doing a bad job protecting and raising the Guns. They’re as healthy as anything according to the vet and, as I type, they’re climbing all over me and the back of my chair (we both have the scratches to prove it).

I’ve never been one who has the courage of my convictions. In fact, I rarely ever believe that what I’m doing is right, although I know I almost always try to do the right thing, it often backfires, or I screw up. The problem with having an unlimited supply of anger, is that when it’s coupled with a cruel and blaming conscience, it becomes a right nag.

So after all my actions yesterday, I was left wondering. Did I do right? The answer is, not with the Facebook post. I shouldn’t have posted, I know that, but in hindsight I’m not going to beat myself up about it. That was my revenge, perhaps immature, perhaps silly, but it was my slight way at getting back at him. I needed him to know I know. That I’m aware that he’s been lying to me for so long.

However, my revenge is now done and what I need to do now is the right thing for others. This isn’t about me any more. As any abuser (towards humans or animals) he must be stopped and I will do everything in my power to make sure that he doesn’t hurt any animal again.This afternoon, I’ll be meeting with the police to see what they advise I do. They will know the right authorities to report animal cruelty to and they’ll tell me whether it will be worth it to charge him with theft.

To those that have supported me and/or given me brilliant advice, thank you so much. I’m not sure I would have the courage of my convictions this time if it weren’t for you.

For those that criticise, it’s cool, I was an ass. I’ll take the brunt of your criticism.

*As per normal, if I can’t think of a title, I use the song in my head. With the Eric Northman thing, it’s no surprise this was the song playing.

Well, fine! Unf*@k you then!

Things have changed for me, and I’m not just talking about the arrival of Guns n’ Roses.

I’m aware that I may come across arrogant in this post and it’s not the meant that way, nor meant to belittle anyone else’s existence. I’m just rather pissed and must vent.

So, things have changed and here’s how:

I no longer have a boss or colleagues to bitch about (do I hear a collective sigh of relief?).

I no longer worry about what to wear or what people think of me (superficially).

I no longer sit in traffic every day and so cannot regale my favourite listeners with stories about murderous fantasies whilst anagramming* number plates.

I no longer wish with all my heart that I could follow my ‘bigger picture’ dream and actually enjoy a sunset or feel the warmth of the breeze. Something I forgot to do each day in the city.

I no longer complain or talk about these things, because my life has changed.

I understand we make friends with like-minded people and enjoy competing over whose boss is the biggest perv, because it’s something we understand. The concept of the ‘Other’ takes on a whole new form when people we once knew now live a life entirely foreign to us.

So I understand that my recent posts may invite the idea that I’ve somehow lost most of my IQ in the nearby ocean, or the Guns are slowly filing my sanity away with each cute thing they do.

If this is how you feel, then so be it. I understand, so please try do likewise.

I have moved to a tiny town, on the coast and sit each morning watching the waves whilst I drink my coffee (in pjs, naturally…me, not the coffee). My kittens (the aforementioned ‘Guns’) keep me company and do the darnedest things. I work in Social Media and so sit on Facebook/Twitter/G+ every day, so it’s likely that I’ll be telling you about my life.

Most people spend their lives working their backsides off hoping to achieve what I have accidentally achieved at 28. They spend day after day in traffic, on their way to mindless jobs that leech their passion and soul from them one task at a time, only to retire to a flat much like mine at the age of 65. Perhaps this is the South African dream, rather than American, I’m not sure, but I know that most of my friends have this is mind.

As a child, most people told me to aim for the following:

  1. Find something you love and making a living from it – Done.
  2. Move out of the city to somewhere quieter and more beautiful – Done.
  3. Learn how to work to live, not live to work (Italian style) – Done.
  4. Find someone you love to live forever with – Hmmm…yeah, still working on that. Apart from some very rich pensioners, the pickings are slim here in No Man’s Land.

I was sick before, rather sick. I was tired. I was lonely and I was deeply afraid that I was missing out on life and everything I hold dear, merely to bring in a larger pay cheque.

I’m lonely now, but that’s about it. I traded in my ‘fishing ground,’ I traded in the offer of double my previous salary, I traded in friends (which still pangs) and I traded in stability…to be broke, but happy.

Please respect that. Don’t accuse me of being boring because I talk about the Guns who’ve become a rather large part of my life, or because watching a Kingfisher outside my office window each day is the highlight of my afternoon. Be happy for me…or bugger off.

I understand you don’t like hearing about this, because it’s not what you find important, so, instead of feeling like a right tart every time someone makes a sarky comment about my new found life and screaming at the accuser, I’m now saying “Well, fine, unf*@k you then.” I now only ask you to unfriend me, stop following me, remove me from your circle. If you don’t respect my change, that’s fine, but please don’t expect me to put up with your ridicule.

Now, I’m off for another coffee on my porch, watching the sea with my kittens.

“This is not America”*

In other words, at the risk of offending, this is not a cat blog.

I recently saw a graph that showed that no matter how smart, funny or wicked you may be, a cat eating a hamburger beats you.

The epidemic of cat pictures has become more than viral, and alongside, man seems to be losing his grip on grammar.

That aside, I recently posted two pieces on my soon-to-arrive kittens. As per usual, I posted these on StumbleUpon, but in my haste, wasn’t diligent in my ‘tagging’ and tagged them merely under ‘blog,’ ‘mammoth,’ ‘babies’ and ‘cats.’

I retain hope that the result was due to the ‘babies’ tag, as it certainly wasn’t due to the ‘blog’ or ‘mammoth’ tags, but I’m enough of a realist to know I’m bullshitting myself. It was the ‘cats’ tag.

If you haven’t already guessed, my usual StumbleUpon referral amount is roughly 12 hits, at its peak it hit 37 – my ‘cats’ tag result? 79.

This upsets me. I love cats, don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t be bringing in my little rockstars if not, but our obsession with cats and the ridiculous statements that go along with them has gone too far.

So, for those that need to know (perhaps my StumbleUpon referrals): This is not a blog about cats and if I disappoint, sorry. It is a blog that can’t make up its mind whether it’s private or not. Some of my friends use their blogs as a personal and private place to vent their innermost feelings, with total anonymity. Some prefer to write always for an audience. I’m stuck in the middle trying to decide what to do.

To be honest, most of my posts are merely there due to the fact that I cannot think about anything but that subject until I write it down. So for now, it’ll just have to do.

*Insult not intended. When I went to write ‘this is not a cat blog’,’ “This is not America” started playing in my head.

Quick kitten update

They’re mine!!! All mine [please insert demonic laugh here].

Right, jokes aside, I called the lady. Everyone else wants to separate the cats and/or have homicidal dogs, so they’re all out, except for me. I’m visiting them on Friday for the first time. I move in to the new place on Monday and will then start scoping it out, to see when I can sneak two little kittens in, without anyone noticing.

Technically, I’m not allowed to move them in until the 26th – Dogs. However, the dogs move out then, so they are allowing me cats after that date. My logic is that kittens need to stay inside for the first few weeks anyhow. I do hope I don’t get into trouble or disappoint the lovely landlords (who live in Joburg) if anyone finds out.

Logically, I think two weeks is appropriate, but I’d prefer to have them earlier. Thoughts?

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