littlewashu: (spock and isis)
A moment ago, I heard Henry pushing at the door to come in, so I let him in and closed the door behind him without looking at him. As I walked back to my computer chair, he crouched alongside and put something down on the ground. "Ah no, man," I said. He caught a bird once, brought it to me, meowing proudly. This time he was silent, he just seemed like he wanted to be left alone so that he could start eating the thing. I leaned down to push him away from what I discovered was the BAT that he had caught. A BAT! A tiny bat the size of a sparrow! Maaaan. Proud or pissed off? It's a tough call. A bat, man! Bats are way cool. But man, what dumbass bat gets caught by my dumbass cat?

Hey, while we're on the subject of tiny flying animals, Saturday afternoon Chris and I were watching the Venture Brothers in the game room at the Manse, and we heard this . . . scrabbling noise, coming from the wood stove. It happened a few times before I looked over and exclaimed, "there's a bird in your stove!" A tiny brown lady sparrow, peering out the window. Chris I think was content to leave her to her own devices, but I insisted that there was no way a bird could fly straight UP a narrow chimney for 25 feet, and kept coming up with overly-elaborate, asinine ways to get her out that involved laundry baskets and/or bath towels. Finally Chris instructed me to open the door to the outside, and then stand in the doorway to the kitchen with a blanket, and he just opened the stove door wide. When she appeared again (she kept disappearing, presumably hiding in the vents at the top of the stove,) she gaily flew straight out the door, singing her thanks as she went. I named her Waffles.
littlewashu: (toshiro mifune in his car)

I'm up at 3:30am because I always leave packing until the last minute because I am a dummy. But who cares! Tomorrow I am flying to Amsterdam and it is going to be totally sweet.

It is supposed to rain every freaking day that we are there! Booooo. Please hope for us that the weather changes. A little sun, perhaps? Some rain-free days? I don't know what rain is like in Amsterdam. Hopefully it's just drizzle. Yeah, it'll just be drizzle.

I suppose I should just throw some more stuff in my suitcase and call it a night. I have stuff to do tomorrow morning. Like drop Henry off at a boarding place! Oh man oh man oh man, I hope that he just deals with it and does not freak out on the poor kennel people. Hopefully he will be soothed by the easy listening music, and will enjoy the room service. (I am not even kidding, these are real "features" of this place.)

I'm taking along my journal from 1998, when I went to Europe for the first time. I'm going to fill in the rest of the book. It was strange, to read some of it earlier this evening. Man, college-kid-me! You are so dramatic sometimes. And yet, not as unlike today-me as I thought you were going to be.


I should go to bed to ensure that I wake up tomorrow when I am supposed to.

Please pray for no rain! Keep an eye on the US for me whilst I'm gone.

Kerry (Washu)
littlewashu: (Default)
My parents bought me a new camera for Christmas, since I dropped my old one. I'm making a concerted effort to take more pictures. Here is one of my roommate Henry.

He went to the vet today to get a booster shot for feline leukemia, and he was a very good boy. (I saw that he has bright orange CAUTION! stickers on his chart, because of his history of not being a very good boy at all.)
littlewashu: (raleigh st. claire)
I took Henry to the vet yesterday.

I had been looking forward to this for weeks, because I'm a cat lady.  I'm not a "cat lady in the making", I'm a goddamned cat lady.  Oh well.

I think I was excited partly because I was just excited to be a responsible mom.  I got Henry when he was six weeks old.  I took him to the vet a bunch of times right after I got him -- for the requisite kitten shots, &c, as well as dealing with the things that were wrong with him when I got him (he was sick, and I had to give him medicine, as well as put this gel stuff on his eyeballs.  ON HIS EYEBALLS.  It actually always went better than it should have).  The last time he had seen a vet was when he got neutered -- he was done with his shots, and I was moving.  That was four and a half years ago.

So finally I was taking him to the doctor!  I yam so responsible!  He can get the shots he maybe needs even though he never goes out!  [Oh man that reminds me, I never told you guys about our attempted walk!  It was short-lived and hilarious!  I took him outside on a leash on a beautiful Spring day and he was scared to death and HOWLED and scratched at the door to come inside.  What a pussy!  Then three days later when I was waving goodbye to my parents, he snuck out. Why are you sneaking out if you know you don't want to be out there in the first place, you stupid cat?  I just walked over to the bushes where he was and said "come back inside!" and he hissed at me and eventually got spooked and ran back into the apartment.]  But I think in addition to being excited about being responsible (I'm not responsible often, so I always think very highly of myself when I do something major, like putting away the clean laundry, or mopping the kitchen floor), I was just excited to be doing something with my cat.  I mean, all we ever do is watch TV together.  And I'm not even sure he's paying much attention to the teevee.  But isn't that so sad?  I'm looking for social activities to enjoy with my cat.  I rule!  Only, the opposite of that!

So last night I zip home from work, slip into something more comfortable, and put the cat in the cat carrier (which is sort of not really big enough for him.  He takes up all the space inside of it.)  He wasn't thrilled about going in, but didn't put up too much of a fight, because he had no idea what he was getting into.

The carrier wouldn't really fit into the shotgun seat, so I put him in the back.  He cried a little during the 15-minute ride to the vet.  He wasn't happy.  I felt so badly for him. [I remember all the times taking him to the vet back in the day, though. I'd put the carrier in the seat next to me, and he cried and cried, the whole way there. I'd put my fingers through the grate and he'd cover my finger with his paw, as though that comforted him. God that killed me. I really do love that guy.]

He was very quiet in the waiting room.  He observed Darryl, the house cat at the vet's, silently.  I could tell he was nervous and scared.

I went into the examination room with the doctor and let him out of the carrier. He was just quiet and silent and terrified until the vet came over to comb him (checking for fleas, presumably) and that's when Henry FLIPPED OUT.  It was so embarrassing.  He was howling and trying to kill everyone and squirming and yelling and biting and scratching.  The doc gave me big heavy leather gloves to put on when I held him, but the gloves scared Henry even MORE, so it was sort of a Catch-22.  Hank was growling at the vet when he was trying to listen via stethoscope to his breathing and heartbeat, so that he couldn't really hear what was going on.  He only ended up being outside the carrier for three or four minutes.  I held him tightly whilst the doc gave him a needle in his flank, from behind, and Henry was so worked up I don't think he even noticed.  Then the vet opened the door to the carrier and I let go and Henry shot right into it.  And that was that.

The doc said something about feline leukemia, but that he'd have to get at a VEIN in order to do that.  Haha.  Hahaha.  I was tempted to ask if it would be possible to sedate him first -- give him a little laughing gas, perhaps -- because really, that is not going to happen.

It was so, so mortifying.  I said lamely "he used to be much worse" and the doc said "worse??" but you guys, Henry really isn't like that anymore!  He's not like that at HOME! 

For the drive home, I slid the seat back and put the carrier in the shotgun seat.  I opened the top of the carrier so that Hank could sit up and check out what was going on, which he did, but after a moment he just chilly-chilled in the carrier, sitting down.  I was grumpy.  I scolded him for embarrassing me, and didn't care about going over bumpy road, or shifting awkwardly, as I had on the way there.

I had intended on getting a picture of him in the carrier, but I forgot.  As soon as we were in the apartment, I set the thing down and opened the door, and he shot up the stairs.

Later in the evening, we laid together on the couch and I forgave him.  Poor kid.  He was just so scared, you know?  He lives a very sheltered life, he doesn't interact with anything but me and my friends.  I don't pick him up very often (he's heavy), though later in the evening I tried to, just to see, and he didn't mind at all.  He just sat there in my arms, resting on my belly, being very heavy, for as long as it was comfortable for me to hold him.  He just didn't like the doctor, he didn't like being up on that stainless steel table, he didn't like being in that cage and then not being in it.  And so he reverted to adolescent behavior, he was scared and he lashed out.  How can I blame him for not having any balls when I'm the one who paid to have them lopped off?  But man, OTHER pets get scared, and they don't lash out, they don't try to kill and maim!  They cower!  Why didn't he cower?  Should I be happy he didn't cower?  I don't know.

Also, I think I need to cut his claws back further.  I only clip the tippy-tips, because I'm so paranoid about cutting the vein.  But the doctor said "those claws are sharp," even though I just cut them Sunday.  I have to be braver.

Oh and he's NOT fat.  He's NOT fat!  Haha!  I mean he could stand to lose a pound or two, and he certainly shouldn't GAIN any weight, but he is not fat and the doctor said it would not be appropriate to put him on a diet!  So there.

In lieu of a new picture of Henry, here's an older one from this past October.

(It's hard to tell, but he's actually lying on his back, with his back legs splayed open like some kind of pervert.)

And then here's a really old one, from 2000.  The quarter is for scale.

God, I'm such a sucker for redheads.
littlewashu: (Default)
Unless he's sleeping, or wants to be ouside on the balcony, Henry (my cat) wants to be with me at all times, right there with me, right there on top of me, right there up near my face, right there ALL UP IN MY GRILL. He's really weird. He doesn't like my lap too much, he would much rather be butting the top of his head against my chin and snuffling in my face. Weirdo.

He's always around when I'm on the computer, usually on the desk between me and the monitor, no matter how many times I try to explain to him that I am TRYING TO DO SOMETHING HERE, and additionally, I am LOOKING AT THE MONITOR AND CATS ARE NOT SEE-THRU. He gets tossed to the curb, and eventually settles for the windowsill behind the desk.

But lately he's taken everything a step further, and he actually goes from my desk to my SHOULDERS. Like, he puts both front feet on my shoulder and shifts his weight so that his body is up against the side of my HEAD, and then he just STAYS there! Weirdo! I like to pick his hind legs up off the desk so that he's totally off balance and at my mercy. Sometimes I push him back so that he has to jump off my back, but the other day he kept going. He climbed up and around and went behind my head and around the other shoulder and back onto the desk. WEIRDO. And this is not a small cat. This fucker's at least sixteen pounds, he's a big solid male cat.

So the point of all this boring cat-talk (it's somewhat interesting to observe, I swear) is that last night he stepped on the keyboard and invented a new emoticon:


Swear to God, that's what he typed. It represents someone zerberting in tears. Conspiratorially.
littlewashu: (Default)
Oh man, isn't great when you feel spectacular for NO GOOD GODDAMN reason? That's the best.

Last night I bought lots of fruit at the grocery store. Because I'm a snacker, so I have to try to snack on more healthier things. I heard someone say once that frozen grapes were good, so I bought some seedless black grapes and put them in the freezer, and that person was right! They're DELICIOUS!

Henry's claws have been long for weeks because I couldn't find his nail clipper. I think he hid it from me. So last night I bought a new one, and clipped his nails. I like doing that because it pisses him the FUCK off. I have to wrap him up in a towel, all except the one paw I'm clippin', and I have to SIT on him, or he'll bite me right through the towel. Ha! That fucker. But then last night in bed we got to spend a little quality time, because I could pet him whilst he was on my chest, and it didn't HURT when he tracted and retracted his claws in pleasure. It's so nice when we get along.

Oh also I got a Venus flytrap last night at the food store! It was like $5.99 or some shit! I hope Henry doesn't knock it over.

There are going to be a lot of people out of the office tomorrow, so today was Bagel Day, and someone FINALLY brought me an onion bagel! It was delicious.

Today I'm going to buy Super Mario Sunshine. I know I'm not supposed to be spending money, but come on, Super Mario Sunshine? Definitely okay! I am SO excited!!! Oh and also I got a RAISE last week! A whole dollar! I'm making more money than I've ever made before in my life! And I've never gotten a raise before, besides when I was a Chinese Food Delivery Boy, but that was all under the table and whatnot, so it wasn't as big a deal. But THIS is exciting!

I think that's all. I can't wait to go buy Super Mario Sunshine. I'm headed to the mall straight from work today; I hope I don't have to go into a Gamestop. F U Gamestop employees. Man, I can't wait, I am so excited.
littlewashu: (Default)
The Fucking Cat feels that it is his inalienable right, as a cat, to be petted. Whenever he wants, for as long as he wants. When the lovin' stops, he reacts with violence. He's been particularly needy yesterday and today; this morning (whilst I was still in bed!) the fucker bit my hand, and when I threw my arm up to toss him off the bed, he grabbed onto my arm and ripped it up. Fucker. At least he knew enough to run.

He messed up my mom's hand on Sunday, too. She was just trying to be nice to him.

I also have a big blackandblue mark on my left forearm. It's pretty big, and was a little swollen, even! I don't know where it came from. And I got a few bruises on my knee, and a HUGE one on my right thigh (the size of a half-dollar, and a lovely dark violet,) presumably at the Bachelorette Party. I don't remember it happening, but that doesn't surprise me much. I was pretty toasted.

On Saturday, before the Bachelorette Party, I went to Michelle's sister's graduation party. All of her grandma's and great-aunts remembered me and gave me kisses. Later in the evening was Gina's big night out, organized largely by Kelly. It was so much better than I had imagined, and I had imagined it being a pretty good time. I think the secret was that we all embraced the Cheese of the night, instead of acting like we were too good for it. Man, but the club? A total donut-fest! To any single boys in the area, I recommend Polly Esther's. Lots of drunk Bachelorette Party girls. Ooh, and a cute shotgirl. I had three bodyshots that evening, one from a guy, and two from the shotgirl. It occurred to me that while we would have had little interest in witnessing the Bachelor Party, the Bachelorette Party was hot.

Am I allowed to say all that stuff? Yes, right?

And Saturday is the wedding. I bought my outfit last night; the other week I mentioned to Hal that I didn't have a dress yet, and he said "make sure to get something comfortable." Comfortable! I was sure he was going to say "slutty"! So I ended up getting a top and a skirt last night, which is nice, because I'll look good (probably not as good as Tami, though, grumble), but I'll be able to wear the shit again.

I love Express. It's my favorite store. I hadn't been in there in months (it's dangerous), but I went in there and didn't like a LOT of the stuff. And still found an outfit I loved. Sweet.

I went to get nail polish to match the top, and it was TEN DOLLARS! Fuck that noise.

Oh, on Sunday my mom and I went to Batsto Village. It's HISTORICAL. I was really glad we went; and that's funny, because it's exactly the sort of thing my parents would drag my brother and I to when we were little. My mom and dad later claimed that they had dragged us to Batsto Village when we were little (I didn't remember it). And here I am, a twenty-four-year-old hipster, and I'm INITIATING this field trip! Awesome! I learned about spinning wheels.

My mom and I are going to open a llama farm. Want in? Send me an email.

I bought a new cell phone last week, and it made me FAR more happy than a material object should be capable of making me. Oh well! And I can't get enough of the ring tone. I can't get enough of the ring tone. It makes the geek in me happy -- nay, elated. Giddy. Swoon.

I've been spending way too much money this month. The phone, the outfit, the numerous parties . . . and then I spend like eight million dollars via online shopping for stuff I don't really need. Also I've been running my air conditioners all day. Guh. This shit is going to catch up with me, I know it.

Did I tell you that last week I designed a Stormwater Management System? I did. I'm quite proud of myself. See, that makes me happy, and satisfied with my job. I started with a grading plan, and I drew the drainage divide lines, and designed all the inlets and pipes. I've done all the parts before, but this one I got to do myself from start to finish. Work is good when it's like this. Or when I'm getting props for all those trees I did those months ago: people keep coming back from the site and saying "I don't know how you did all that!" So I think I might stick around? I'm considering signing another year lease at my apartment. Another whole YEAR! What committment! Committment makes me uncomfortable.

March 2015

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