It's interesting to see what moral allowances will be made for the sake of convenience and expediency. That extra donut in your twelve-pack? I'm damn sure you won't go back to the bakery to report it and pay $0.12.
In our case, we've decided that our personal convenience far outweighs the betta fish's right to mental stability and calm. The cat now takes his meds with much more aplomb, due almost entirely to the presence of a fishtank within inches of his face.
That thin plastic, with the tantalizing moving thing on the other side...hey guys! The moving thing not only moves, but it reacts to my frantic scratching and reaching! Ouch! What did you do!? That's...uncomfortable...and I think I'm pissed at you, so I'll sulk. But not off the counter. I'll just sit here and sulk...where I can see that moving thing...so angry...so...wha?...hey! hey you moving thing!!
He'll even stay on the counter for the anti-leak circular rubbing motion just below his hump, so long as nothing obstructs his view of the fish. Now, he'll even leap on the stovetop hours after his treatment, seeking to slap at a fishtank, and he'll purr atop the counter (in hopes of the sudden appearance of a fishtank?). Regardless of his motivations, this new attitude to countertop activity is very welcome.
I justify it like this:
Fish: Very cheap, in purchase, lifestyle, and upkeep. Not very affectionate. Short life span, even in the best of conditions. Decorative, but not cuddle-able, and can only provide limited companionship from atop the bedroom dresser. Other placement locations will immediately result in the cat bothering the fish, causing stress, and annoying the humans with slapping sounds.
Cat: More expensive in all aspects, but more rewarding socially. Decorative and cuddly, while amusing humans in all areas of the house. Longer lifespan possiblities necessitate the administration of fluids, which necessitates the scheduled use of the fish as entertainment for the cat.
Fish: About $37 for several years of upkeep and supplies.
Ten minutes of excitement/exercise for the fish in exchange for 10 minutes of calm from the cat: Priceless
Besides: I read somewhere that betta fish who were regularly challenged by a lab tech and chased around their tank daily lived longer than those who were never induced to flaring or exercised.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Do you remember Dodgeball?
And how you thought it wasn't important to "real life".
Well, you're wrong. The physical sport of dodgeball you were forced to endure as a child is the only thing giving you an apt metaphor, as well as the social understanding to survive a round of layoffs at your workplace.
It also teaches you how to deal with those you, unlike yourself, weren't merely winged in the leg or self-moistened because you just couldn't hold your water when the rubber boulder buried itself into the chain link fence (or concrete block wall) behind you. How to look those bruised persons in the face, and clap them on the back for a game well played. For their bravery. For the celebration of friendship.
Or just because it allows you to hide your own fear by hugging them, and thus avoiding seeing the raised, pebble-textured, rubber-smelling welts on their undeserving faces.
Well, you're wrong. The physical sport of dodgeball you were forced to endure as a child is the only thing giving you an apt metaphor, as well as the social understanding to survive a round of layoffs at your workplace.
It also teaches you how to deal with those you, unlike yourself, weren't merely winged in the leg or self-moistened because you just couldn't hold your water when the rubber boulder buried itself into the chain link fence (or concrete block wall) behind you. How to look those bruised persons in the face, and clap them on the back for a game well played. For their bravery. For the celebration of friendship.
Or just because it allows you to hide your own fear by hugging them, and thus avoiding seeing the raised, pebble-textured, rubber-smelling welts on their undeserving faces.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Ornithoscelidophobia and other scary things
So: For starters, I will openly admit that I have a fear of dinosaurs. Possibly not always of the running-screaming kind, but definitely dependent on what SIZE and NUMBERS these animals arrive/appear in. Much in the way an arachnophobe can muster the strength of will to smoosh an octo-legged interloper, I can tamp down my terror in favor of watching well-acted idiots tramp around in genetic no-no land.
However, if ever confronted with anything larger than a small dog, or in numbers greater than two, I might just die of spontaneous mental overload. (Herbivores aren't super scary in themselves, except to illustrate the sheer size of things that will soon be here to eat herbivores.)
That said, we watched Paranomal Activity (the movie) last night.
Now, creepy stuff on its own triggers my logical retreat instinct. This couple lives in a home together, and it seems they've moved from their last home due to the occasional (but annoying and creepy) unexplained phenomena. Fine. I get that. (And good for them for having the capital to move so quickly/completely.)
However, girlfriend (who seems to be the trigger for this stuff, and is understandably upset/tired of it) should've long ago left the boyfriend (who is clearly funding this descent into stupidity, both in financial, real-estate, and paranormal escalation). Intrigued and excited by the weird crap that happens to his beloved, he decides to record not only their bedroom at night, but carry the camera around during the investigation of any nocturnal noises, or during the daytime, when Sol's light seems to bring a recession in creepy shit, but also in the desire to GTFO.
Long story short, boyfriend tends to disregard girlfriend's firm requests and verbally provoke/dick-waggle-at the entity who they've been told by a psychic/ghost-hunter is possibly horribly violent, and they should in no way make contact/open communication with. What's that Boyfriend?
1.) No Ouija board. What? WTF is that? Oh you didn't buy it? Well, you're a shithead and I'm not playing with you. We're leaving.
2.) You said you'd stop with the camera, and I'm uber-pissed.
3.) What's that? You're going to solve this yourownself with not even the googling skills of a marmot? Sure. Let's put off calling the demonologist/specialist in favor of your bullshit schemes.
4.) Why is girlfriend still sleeping on the outside of the bed after footprints appeared leading up to her, video is captured of somthing fucking with her sheets (her side of the bed, only), and the door closest to her moving on it's own?
Well, it's a decently-intentioned movie that manages to convey the charm of DiY ghost recording with none of the vomit-inducing pain of Blair Witch, so I was creeped out and had bad dreams (mostly of me trying to kill the boyfriend in hopes of appeasing the entity, or of escaping the house so it would at least have to work to find me and haunt me). In one of my dreams, my inner lizard-brain decided that since the footprints were large, and three-toed, the entity that was causing all this strife was an invisible raptor. I have never been so afraid in my life.
Behold its splendor in this artist's rendering:
I have never been so convinced of something's ultimate lethality in my life. All other fears pale in comparison. I may never sleep easy again.
P.S. The average human has yet to find a better self-defence and audible "FUCK OFF" than a large-gauge shotgun. Why people would suffer an entity that has enough tangible mass to physically affect objects without resorting to a firearm charged with oak, ash, poppyseeds, holy water and silver is beyond my reasoning.
If you can't kill it with a shotgun, you are not using the right ammo.
However, if ever confronted with anything larger than a small dog, or in numbers greater than two, I might just die of spontaneous mental overload. (Herbivores aren't super scary in themselves, except to illustrate the sheer size of things that will soon be here to eat herbivores.)
That said, we watched Paranomal Activity (the movie) last night.
Now, creepy stuff on its own triggers my logical retreat instinct. This couple lives in a home together, and it seems they've moved from their last home due to the occasional (but annoying and creepy) unexplained phenomena. Fine. I get that. (And good for them for having the capital to move so quickly/completely.)
However, girlfriend (who seems to be the trigger for this stuff, and is understandably upset/tired of it) should've long ago left the boyfriend (who is clearly funding this descent into stupidity, both in financial, real-estate, and paranormal escalation). Intrigued and excited by the weird crap that happens to his beloved, he decides to record not only their bedroom at night, but carry the camera around during the investigation of any nocturnal noises, or during the daytime, when Sol's light seems to bring a recession in creepy shit, but also in the desire to GTFO.
Long story short, boyfriend tends to disregard girlfriend's firm requests and verbally provoke/dick-waggle-at the entity who they've been told by a psychic/ghost-hunter is possibly horribly violent, and they should in no way make contact/open communication with. What's that Boyfriend?
1.) No Ouija board. What? WTF is that? Oh you didn't buy it? Well, you're a shithead and I'm not playing with you. We're leaving.
2.) You said you'd stop with the camera, and I'm uber-pissed.
3.) What's that? You're going to solve this yourownself with not even the googling skills of a marmot? Sure. Let's put off calling the demonologist/specialist in favor of your bullshit schemes.
4.) Why is girlfriend still sleeping on the outside of the bed after footprints appeared leading up to her, video is captured of somthing fucking with her sheets (her side of the bed, only), and the door closest to her moving on it's own?
Well, it's a decently-intentioned movie that manages to convey the charm of DiY ghost recording with none of the vomit-inducing pain of Blair Witch, so I was creeped out and had bad dreams (mostly of me trying to kill the boyfriend in hopes of appeasing the entity, or of escaping the house so it would at least have to work to find me and haunt me). In one of my dreams, my inner lizard-brain decided that since the footprints were large, and three-toed, the entity that was causing all this strife was an invisible raptor. I have never been so afraid in my life.
Behold its splendor in this artist's rendering:
I have never been so convinced of something's ultimate lethality in my life. All other fears pale in comparison. I may never sleep easy again.
P.S. The average human has yet to find a better self-defence and audible "FUCK OFF" than a large-gauge shotgun. Why people would suffer an entity that has enough tangible mass to physically affect objects without resorting to a firearm charged with oak, ash, poppyseeds, holy water and silver is beyond my reasoning.
If you can't kill it with a shotgun, you are not using the right ammo.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
So you probably don't care about the cat anymore
Look! Instant medical table, just add towel and door hook (to hold the i.v. bag).Our victim for this evening (as with every other evening):
And no, we don't know why he sits like that sometimes. It seems pretty normal for him. Long cat is long?
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Resolutions
So let's be cheesy and do some traditional year-beginning stuff:
My resolutions for 2010--
Stop hoarding my reviews for Job 2. I need to post them. I'm waiting for the site to load now.
Start writing more reviews, so I can have more time to re-work them. It's been so long since I had to write something that I forget how to do it right. I like to be funny, and it's hard to do that when the only thing I'm thinking of is "Get it done, move to the next."
Knit more, and save more. I do have some stash, and just because I don't really know what to do with it doesn't mean I ought to buy more. We need the money these days for sick kitty times, besides, and I'd rather have a cat than more yarn or nice things.
Relationship-wise, we are doing well at my home. We've spontaneously (somehow) started halting fights mid-way through to re-examine what was said that we might be taking the wrong way. This is very interesting, as it turns out that half the time or more we've simply misunderstood what the other person was saying. I recommend it, really. I'm also slowly coming to the ability to voice my concerns over our budget and monetary priorities (my one big worry in life, really) without unintentionally insulting or implying anything unhelpful. I, like the rest of the world, I'm sure, wish for a home of our own, and long term plans, and maybe even kids (who knows?), but we're not financially at a good place for that to happen now, even though the springs in my bio-clock are slowly winding up for a big tick-tock in a few years. Also, I should probably worry less.
Except about the cat. I WILL learn to do his meds quickly and easily, even though they are scary and involve needles and bags and scary implications about his future non-existence. No one wants to face the mortality of their dear pet, and we're probably going to have to have some kind of big come-to-the-flying-spagetti-monster talk about what we're going to do later on, when his function isn't so great, but he is still technically breathing and moving on his own, even though he might not know why he feels like crap. There are some really awesome sites online that share tales of life with cats who have been diagnosed with CRF, and some of them live comfortable lives right up until the end. Still, there will be a point where his kidney/renal function just isn't up to par without a detailed and possibly stressful daily regimen, which will also severely eat into our finances. At what point do you have to recognize that even Grandma wouldn't be comfortable with you going into lifelong debt in order to afford her not-so-great "living" situation?
(Also, where do these people come up with this money? Am I in the wrong field? I have a comfy cube and internets and a functioning vehicle and a decent aparment, so I'm not doing too badly, right? How does this kind of life translate to the blogs I've seen of taking vacations to semi-fancy places with travel arrangements for multiple ill pets?)
My resolutions for 2010--
Stop hoarding my reviews for Job 2. I need to post them. I'm waiting for the site to load now.
Start writing more reviews, so I can have more time to re-work them. It's been so long since I had to write something that I forget how to do it right. I like to be funny, and it's hard to do that when the only thing I'm thinking of is "Get it done, move to the next."
Knit more, and save more. I do have some stash, and just because I don't really know what to do with it doesn't mean I ought to buy more. We need the money these days for sick kitty times, besides, and I'd rather have a cat than more yarn or nice things.
Relationship-wise, we are doing well at my home. We've spontaneously (somehow) started halting fights mid-way through to re-examine what was said that we might be taking the wrong way. This is very interesting, as it turns out that half the time or more we've simply misunderstood what the other person was saying. I recommend it, really. I'm also slowly coming to the ability to voice my concerns over our budget and monetary priorities (my one big worry in life, really) without unintentionally insulting or implying anything unhelpful. I, like the rest of the world, I'm sure, wish for a home of our own, and long term plans, and maybe even kids (who knows?), but we're not financially at a good place for that to happen now, even though the springs in my bio-clock are slowly winding up for a big tick-tock in a few years. Also, I should probably worry less.
Except about the cat. I WILL learn to do his meds quickly and easily, even though they are scary and involve needles and bags and scary implications about his future non-existence. No one wants to face the mortality of their dear pet, and we're probably going to have to have some kind of big come-to-the-flying-spagetti-monster talk about what we're going to do later on, when his function isn't so great, but he is still technically breathing and moving on his own, even though he might not know why he feels like crap. There are some really awesome sites online that share tales of life with cats who have been diagnosed with CRF, and some of them live comfortable lives right up until the end. Still, there will be a point where his kidney/renal function just isn't up to par without a detailed and possibly stressful daily regimen, which will also severely eat into our finances. At what point do you have to recognize that even Grandma wouldn't be comfortable with you going into lifelong debt in order to afford her not-so-great "living" situation?
(Also, where do these people come up with this money? Am I in the wrong field? I have a comfy cube and internets and a functioning vehicle and a decent aparment, so I'm not doing too badly, right? How does this kind of life translate to the blogs I've seen of taking vacations to semi-fancy places with travel arrangements for multiple ill pets?)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)