Posts Tagged 'maimer'

it’s gonna be a big one

my cat is digging in the cat box.

she's been in there digging for quite a while.  with those loud, scary strokes that say rhythmically, i'm-a-gonna-lay-a-bomb-so-gimme-gimme-room.

pity me, people.  PITY ME!!!  my cat craps bigger than a small dog!  i mean the turds are roughly the size of a shih tzu!  it's a daily trial for me!  (she's very regular.)


and don't be fooled by this face.

this cat can make smells that would make your mother cry.

if you don't believe me, check out my old blog, where my postings about her poop were almost as regular as she is.

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Sphinxy’s new address: Hell

Sis and I just moved out of Mom and Dad’s to live on our own. LOVE our new home.  And Maimer is very happy with it.  However, I have run into one of the worst stretches of bad luck I have ever known.  Within days of moving in, Maimer’s bladder problems returned worse than ever.  I took her in only to find out she had bladder stones and needed to be operated on.  The bill came to… (are you sitting down?)  ONE THOUSAND FREAKIN DOLLARS!  Sigh.  There goes the computer I was hoping to buy.  And the cable tv.  And high-speed internet.  And groceries.
So Maimer is recooping and acting like she feels better than ever when I come down with a horrendous cold flu.  I’ve been sick for a whole week: like feverish, achy, sinusy, coughy, insomniac, everything.  So I call in sick for the fourth day in a row and the Shiz (my boss lady) says, great because you HAVE to come in tomorrow because everyone is sick and you ALL need to be here or there will be no one in Circulation.
So I show up for work the next day, voiceless, coughing until I gag, all that good stuff.  Caffeine Chick (hawaiian_jew) is in approximately the same condition.  Jeckyll has no discernable symptoms, but goes on and on about how she doesn’t feel well and will be going home as soon as we can spare her.  Chicky and I look at each other through our respective fever-induced hazes and we’re like WTF??
Meanwhile, Maimer is no longer doing so well.  She’s always licking her incision and upon closer inspection, I see it’s swollen, oozy and (EW?!?) STINKY!!!  So vet says she’s gotta come in TODAY.  So I’m dying, helping patrons that look horrified to be sharing the same air as me and on my lunch break, instead of resting or, say, eating?  I’m taking the cat to the vet to have her STAPLES removed. *gag*  So it turns out that each and every one of Maimer’s staples has twisted around INSIDE her stomach and FESTERED.  The vet first had to STRAIGHTEN THEM OUT before removing them.  Now Maim is on antibiotics.  Another bill.  And as an added bonus, I get to wrestle this blue horse pill down Maim’s throat every day for the next week.
Okay, by the time I get back to work, I am not doing so well.  My face is on fire with fever and it feels like there’s a knife in my left ear.  Jeckyll is still talking about LEAVING.  And to add to it, Dylan and Leslie walk by every now and then, telling me I can’t die before I go to our roleplaying game tonight (a special session, which we anticipate going until 4 or 5 am).  I’m starting to get panicky and really really pissed.  I finally tell Jeckyll I don’t think ANYONE should leave because we’re ALL just as SICK.  Jeckyll stops talking to me.  I go in the back room to sulk and finally eat lunch (at 3 pm).  Dylan and Leslie are on their break.  I vent on them until they say, you and Tripleshot go home now, YS and Reference will handle it!  So Caffeine Chick and I go up to Jeckyll together and say, bye we’re leaving.  And we walked out, Chicky murmuring something about “Mutiny on the Bounty.”
I bet you wish that was the end.  Oh, so do I, my friend, so do I.  Alas, I then went straight to a doc-in-the-box to find out if I’m safe to go to an all-nighter game.  I remember I still have my lunch leftovers with me in the car and it’s a hot day, so I carry the leftovers in with me.  Actually, first I stop into my regular doctor’s office to see if they have any openings.  They don’t, so I just take my walmart bag full of hot dog and relish and dasani and I go down the street.
You know how I feel about skeezy walk-in medicine, so I won’t bore you with a description.  Nothing has changed except the list of “dirty” countries, which now has two handwritten additions: Iraq and Nigeria.  Who knew.  Anyways, I wait so long (over an hour), that I’ve fallen asleep on my crinkly walmart bag by the time someone calls my name.  But it is not to admit me, no.  It’s to send me across town to their other branch which has no waiting.  Oh but wait, it takes me ANOTHER HOUR, just battling rush hour traffic to get out there!  And then I’m driving around the Krispy Kreme parking lot forever, looking for the place, calling home and alternately swearing and crying on the phone with Sis as she gives me directions.
So long long long story short, I find it, I’m admitted and…. I HAVE STREP!!  WITH A 100 DEGREE FEVER!!!  DAMN LIBRARY!!!!
Needless to say, I miss the special game session and anything else fun for the next week. I’m pissed, I’m bummed and I have to buy all new toothbrushes and toothpaste because apparently those are teeming streptococcal party-zones. Who’s “dirty” now?

A Turd To Be Reckoned With

On my way upstairs for the night (or, “up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire,” as the Brits would have it) and I spot a small piece of landscape bark on the landing. I nudge it with my foot and realize my first impression was erroneous: it’s too rounded to be bark, it’s too dense, and I live with kobolds.

I’m too lazy to go fetch a kleenex for the job, so after a moment’s hesitation during which I’m pretty sure I’m gonna fully leave the turd lie, I finally pick the thing up with my bare hands, run it to a toidy and flush it. Washwashwashwash hands.

For some of you, maybe this is nothing. For others, maybe it’s unthinkably gross. For me, I’ve had worse. And I’ve learned the direct approach is the safest. One time I was scooping Maimer’s litterbox and there was a little lone poo on the floor next to the box. After chasing it around a bit with the scoop, I finally pinned it against the box side and tried to wiggle the scoop under it. It was a stalemate for about eight seconds (a liftime in turd terms), which was broken when the scoop slipped, the poo broke free and BECAME AIRBORNE, arcing right past my face. My life flushed–I mean flashed–before my eyes. When I’d recovered from the shock, I scurried after the errant feces, snatched it up and tossed it in with its brothers. Bare hands.

See, bare hands are nothin’. It helps to have some perspective. If I’d been yawning, I coulda had that thing in my mouth.

There are gnomes outside my window.

It’s the only explanation I can come up with. There are gnomes outside my window. And on my roof. I can hear them scrabbling around out there right now. It has to be gnomes. What else could get a Kobold as pissed off as Maimer is right now? Well, not right now. At the moment she’s too sound asleep to hear them. But usually when the things come scurrying around, she slams herself against the glass, practically foaming at the mouth with rage, gibbering like an insane Kobold. And the sadistic gnomes just keep taunting her.

And if anyone has ever wondered what sound a gnome makes, well eat your heart out, because I know. For your information, they go “caw caw.” And they fly. Glittergold’s honor.

Stay tuned for when I finally catch a glimpse of one. I’ll let you all in on what gnomes really look like. Maybe even snap its picture with my camera-phone.

I’m not vain, just paranoid.

I wake up this morning, stumble into the bathroom, peer in the mirror and see a black hair on my upper lip.


I brush at it. Oh. It’s just Maimer’s.

Peebag strikes again.

At least my room is still safe. Peebag has declared war on the living room, the family room and now the dining room has joined the ranks of victims. I went in there for a teabag a little bit ago and soon found myself wandering the room, a packet of English Breakfast in my hand, playing hot-and-cold with an elusive pee smell. Sure enough, Mom’s expensive drapes have been violated. What is wrong with that animal?

To be honest, at this point in the pee wars, I’m no longer sure all the crimes are Peebag’s or if some of them are Maimer retaliating and retaking territory, but I’m not about to admit that to a Peebag-loving household. It’s Maimer and me against the world. If I betray her bladder now, then I’d have to start cleaning up the pee. And I’m just not ready for that kind of commitment. I’m not even telling Mom her drapes have become toilet paper. She’ll find out on her own eventually. I’m guessing the next time she drinks tea.

On an unrelated note, I’ve gone two days now without seeing Aeon Flux and I’m starting to feel a little panicky. It’s okay, though. You know why? Because it just hit the dollar theaters. And between now and the next showing, well that’s what they put clips on the internet for.

So a guy walks into a bar… and says OUCH!

Sorry, that was corny. But appropriate for my current state of clumsiness. And I do have a story:

So I wake up in the middle of the night for a bathroom call, and when I look in the mirror, there’s blood on my nose. I’m like what the– I scrub at it. It’s a gash. Or at least a deep scratch. Now I’m feeling paranoid. How is it I’m getting cuts on my face in my sleep? Did I scratch myself? My nails are nonexistent. Did Maimer do it? But the little kobold’s just sleeping innocently at the foot of my bed. Did I fall asleep with paper and pencil again? I’m gonna lose an eye if I keep doing that.

Accepting the strange reality that I somehow sleepwalked face first into a cheese grater, I slap a bandaid across my nose and head back to bed through the pitch black of my room. I go to dive into bed and run face first into the Leaning Tower of Music and Reading Material that lives on my nightstand. This could have something to do with it, I’m thinking. I’m afflicted with life-threatening clumsiness! Combined with chronic disorganization, it’s amazing I’ve lived this long. So it’s still pitch black, I still have a bandaid on my nose, but now my face and hands are throbbing, I’m catching books, cds and papers as they slide every which way and the commotion has awakened Maimer who decides now’s a good time to maul me with love. I can’t see a thing, but she’s yapping and growl-purring, rubbing against my arms and biting my fingers as I hold desperately onto the crumbling remains of the Leaning Tower. When my Cowboy Bebop mix cds start hitting her, though, she starts to complain.

So if any of you are confused as to what kind of animal my kobold kompanion is really, it’s on purpose. If you’re not confused, then I’m not as clever as I thought (a distinct probability) or else you’ve met the real thing in real life (for those few of you who have, I’m sorry, she’s just like that). But if anybody’s confused as to what a kobold is, plain and simple, I can help you there. And I’ll do it with an acrostic!


There! It’s like a kobold wrote it! Cuz they’re stupid, too. But I couldn’t fit that into the acrostic. Now, there’s some disagreement as to whether kobolds are reptilian or canine. (In Baldur’s Gate, I always thought they looked like organ grinder’s monkeys, with little red vests, going “oo-oo-ah” when I killed them.) But, since each side of the debate is spearheaded by the greatest geniuses of gaming (Wizards of the Coast say lizards, while Ninth Level Games and Dork Storm say dogs), I like to integrate both into my concept of kobolds. Plus I just like the sound of “lizard dogs.”

To see different visual concepts of kobolds, do a Google image search. You’ll find some gnome-looking things in there, too, since kobolds used to be mythical mine-dwelling spirits before Wizards of the Coast got a hold of them.

Wait! I can fit “stupid” in there! Kobolds are always plural! KOBOLDS! Kowardly Ontisocial Bicious Ogly Lizard Dogs that are also very Stupid!