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• photos •
• little loves • Eddie Cibrian's Dimples
Because c'mon! Shame on Invasion's slowburn peril for not providing them a more frequent showcase. Wentworth Miller
He's my boyfriend. He is. No, he just is. He's all green-eyed, widow's-peaked, melting-pot hotness and oiled-massage voice. He's it. • past loves • |
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They! Can Suck It
So Starlight Terrace is not the 24-hour, disco-balled, body-glittered, bubble gum-scented party on rollerskates that its name suggests but the cats will never want to move again thanks to the Wild Kingdom we've got going on outside our windows. We're nearly eye-level with all the pigeons, crows and squirrels as they frolic and forage. We have one squirrel (whom I've dubbed Johnny Knoxville since he's clearly trying to entice his fluffy-tailed buds into similar acts of crazy stupidity) who's even begun coming right up to the open windows, casually checking out the digs and sharing some Eskimo kisses with the cats through the screens. He's a retardo but he's cute as hell. We could do without the rogue cats in the neighborhood though. They ruin a perfectly good lazy afternoon on the windowsill. The skittish black cat next door is okay; it just wanders by at a safe distance for our viewing pleasure. The big striped one though, he's trouble...or my cats are trouble maybe because they just don't want to be friends with him. He might be giving out subtle, antagonistic cat signals I can't read that make mine into Crazy, Caterwauling Attack Beasts from Hell--willing to ram their skulls into glass trying to pounce through a closed window or turn on each other all Clawtastic Flying Cat Ninja of Death when they realize they can't get to him--but as far as I can tell he's just sitting there in the window with an adorable expression on his face, like, "Hey, dudes, new in town? Wanna play ball in the street? I can run home and get my ball! Hey, what's going on in there? Do you guys have snacks and stuff?" So cute. While my cats loudly plan the fastest way to disembowel him. Jerks. I named him Doofy because he clearly is. Maybe he's related to Johnny Knoxville! We also enjoy myriad bugs, of course, dwelling as we do now in garden splendor. I've been mostly ignoring them--and I even rescued a spider from the bathtub on my second day!--but the ants I cannot abide. They just showed the hell up over the weekend, swarming the cats' food dishes in the kitchen. Not cool. I have to walk in there in bare feet. And I paid an exorbitant amount of money for that hypoallergenic venison so stay the hell off, asshats! I bought some poison ant cafeterias during my evening stroll and the little buggers (heh) are eating themselves stupid. I towered above them, laughing maniacally for a while, anticipating their grim return to their seething homestead...until I saw the track they were taking to get there. Guess where they live, y'all! UNDER THE CARPETING. Ew! Ew! EWWWW! Ew. Ew. Ew. That was a revelation I just did not need. And I now have a reason more than cat puke clean-up to prefer hardwood to Berber. Because ew. Chow down, little disgustos! Chow down to your doom!jlb | 18:28 |
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