Wednesday Wonderings

Can I just say that I am ROCKING the alliteration this week! What's up now?

Have you ever sat down to watch T.V. and think to yourself, I can enjoy about 15 minutes of not doing a damn thing before I need to take care of a few things before sitting down to a Spurs game and a glass of wine. Then you wake up 2 hours later feeling like someone slipped you a roofie, not knowing where you are, what time it is, how you got in this position, and where did your bra go? I had put the Smoodge to bed this evening and sat down on the couch to do just that at about 7:15pm, then woke up laying face down on the couch with my feet hanging over the arm at about 9:30pm. At some point during this bout of unconsciousness I had taken my bra off and flung it onto the coffee table. So I got all the affects of the roofie, but none of the fun. BOOO!

What is it about fresh cat litter that invites the psycho kitty to take the biggest smelliest crap ever? I change the litter this evening, because I learned my lesson here about all of that, take the trash outside, come back in, and get slapped in the nostrils with the foul odor of cat ass. Nice. Also, I'm not sure what cat urine is made of, but I'm pretty sure it will peel your flesh off if you were ever to touch it. I think that's why the litter is so absorbent, because otherwise it would be a law that cats be branded with a hazardous waste icon on their bums, and then PETA would get mad, and it would be a mess, and who really wants to deal with PETA anyway? And for the record, while his eyes are REALLY blue, and most people would rationalize that the reason they are red in the photo is due to red eye, I attribute it to the fact that he really IS a spawn of the devil, and the camera has done it's job of capturing his soul.

Ever feel like making an inter-office booty call? That's probably about the time you realize times is bad, the end is near.

I had a Britney Spears moment last night and cut my bangs.
And not in a good way. Apparently I forgot to take my meds and hide all the sharp objects in the house. I feel like I have two options now. Either cut the rest of it into a mullet or wear headbands until it grows out. I'm totally blaming this bad call on the worlds most disgusting wine. And although I didn't drink any of it last night, I'm convinced that part of the after affects of said nastiness include not only the inability to operate heavy machinery, but also the inability to make good hair decisions.