Author: Mrs. Completely

Izzie, Toilet Paper & Short People

This is a rant.  Because I’m feeling ranty.

Apparently, I’m not allowed to bite! It’s a stupid rule and I am resisting the orchestrated suppression of my biting rights as a Feline. What did they think I was?! A sock puppet?! Cats bite! And it’s not my fault if they didn’t do their research. It’s not as though I bite them all the time, either – 3 to 4 times a day, max. I get excited when we play “There’s a Monster Under the Covers on the Bed!” and when I get excited I can’t help myself – it just happens!  It’s not like I plan it.  Stop being sissies! But instead of getting tough, they decide to stop playing “There’s a Monster Under the Covers on the Bed!” altogether. Where’s the logic in that?! How can I learn not to bite if I can’t play any biting games to learn from?

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Bruises, Ballerinas and A Spy Camera

Last night I noticed another big bruise on The Viking’s ass. He shrugged it off when I asked him about it; pretended surprise that there could possibly be a bruise on his ass because he has the grace of a ballerina. I let it go at first, but then later I started thinking about it again and I got suspicious.

It’s usually me who bumps into things, whacks my head, cuts my finger etc. while The Viking looks down from his lofty, graceful pedestal and says, “Be careful” or “Don’t slip” or “Watch out for………..” or “Give me that knife because you are about to chop off your hand”.  There is an entire list of things that I can’t be trusted with:

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Solitaire and the Art of Deviousness

The Viking and I live in a tiny little house with 2 bedrooms and no basement. He bought the property without even looking at the house because the garage was exactly what he wanted – he is a Motorcycle Mechanic after all and has a ton of tools, though some look more like devices of torture than things to repair machines if you ask me.

When I moved in with my shitload of stuff we were overwhelmed with piles of things that had no permanent place.  Over the past 9 years we have whittled down the piles, through either compromise or a lack of necessity. Every room has been rearranged a hundred times, each time with the intention of never having to rearrange it again.

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Teeth, Eye Rolls and a Giant Tiger

When it comes to kittens it’s amazing how quickly they grow and learn.  Izzie has gone through a multitude of stages in her short life. Some are just adorable while others are enough to make The Viking and I take refuge in the Bathroom and call 911.

The Tiny Baby Stage: I kind of liked this stage but I really should have just duct taped her to my neck. Or bought a larger bra and tucked her in because then it would be like the good old days when I could accomplish two-handed tasks.

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The Only Way We Get There is Together

My childhood was rife with fear and confusion.

I was afraid and cornered and trapped and hated.

At 16 I gave up and ran like a wounded animal.

I had money for food and 5 nights in a hotel.

I cowered there in abject misery.

I had nowhere to go, no one to help me.

I was forced to make that terrible phone call home.

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The Viking and VooDoo

We have a Kodi Box which is a magical device that, once we fiddle and fart around with it, allows us to watch a bagillion movies and TV shows and let’s us listen to a bajillion music channels. We pick a streaming app, then pick the movie or show we want to watch then wait until a bagillon sources pop onto the TV screen. They don’t all work though, so we have to pick one and wait to see if it will play or kick us out. It’s really just a crap shoot – Russian Roulette without the bullets. Sometimes the show is in HD and sometimes it’s a dude with a cheap video camera recording it in a movie theatre and the quality is so terrible it’s not worth watching anyway.

It all sounds kind of hinky, doesn’t it? So why would we spend a half hour just finding the show we want to watch and then another 15 minutes trying to find a stream that will work? Because it saves us $179.00 a month and Telus/Rogers/Bell/Shaw are all assholes and have shitty products and services compared to what Europeans have. That’s why.

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A One-Legged Girl and Banana Marshmellows

I caused a debacle today. Completely unintentionally, but it was a total fiasco nonetheless. It all started with needing coffee cream and a loaf of bread and rather than going all the way down to Safeway, I decided to just pop into The Bownesian. It is a little boutique-type store where local businesses can sell their products, organic produce and antibiotic-free meat are preferred, and it has an amazing deli section considering the miniscule size of the store.

I grabbed a basket when I went through the doors and went directly to the dairy section, swung through the bread section and headed to the check out. Except…..there, on the end cap of an aisle, was…..BANANA MARSHMELLOWS!! Oh. My. God! Banana Marshmellows! I got a craving for them about 4 years ago, couldn’t find them in all that time and now they were sitting right in front of me!

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Empty….or What a Cat Taught Me

When I left my 23 year marriage I felt like an elastic band that had been pulled too tight and suddenly the pressure was gone and I was left limp and empty and shapeless. It took quite a while to get accustomed to that loosey goosey feeling and only slightly longer to love it.

Then one day I was browsing around a home décor store on my lunch break and found this:

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Potato Salad, Headlocks and Chloroform

Mission:  Make Potato Salad to serve tonight when the kids come for dinner.

Me:  I watched a video on YouTube on how to peel potatoes really easy.  You just boil them first, squeeze the potato gently and the peel comes right off!

Viking:  I think that only works on new potatoes.

Me:  They look kind of like new potatoes.  The skins are very thin.  It should work fine.

Viking:  ……..shrug

2 Hours Later

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Someone Is Out To Get Me!

The Viking discovered my car had a flat tire this morning.  This is odd because I haven’t gone anywhere in the last 24 hours that one might expect a tire hazard, like a construction site.  And it isn’t even a nail or a screw that any one could pick up anywhere – it’s a very large staple except it’s width is about 4 times as thick as a regular construction staple.

The Viking showed me the staple still stuck in the tire and I immediately suspected that SOMEONE IS OUT TO GET ME!

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