Poppy Cedes

Give me a day off and I return to my old tricks: Two posts in one day!

The Scene: Dawg and I are in the kitchen talking. Ripley is draped on me with her back feet in my hands purring away.

Poppy: You’re awesome.
Dawg: I’m not awesome. I’m okay. You’re awesome.
Poppy: No, you’re awesome!
Ripley swats Dawg in the face with her tail.
Dawg raises an eyebrow, we both laugh.
Poppy: Ripley’s an extension of me. Try that again.
Dawg: You’re awesome, I’m just okay.
Nothing happens.
Poppy issues the executive order to Ripley through her mind.
Ripley swats Dawg in the face with her tail.
Poppy: See? *smile*
Dawg: You’re right.
Poppy: It just got all Twilight Zone in here.
Dawg: Yes it did…

Let’s see. The train was really busy so it was hard to read my Triangles book for some parts of the trip. And then when we got to the transfer station it was really crowded and I watched somebody get arrested and then I went down the escalator and caught a train just as it was about to close its doors! … Yup, that was the train.

I got boots for The Steff and Donkey’s wedding this Saturday. Black boots. Black heel boots. Black knee-high heel boots. (Yah. :) I haven’t opened the box yet. Georgie keeps trying to get in there. I wonder if she wants to play dress-up with them… hmm.

Ripley did a bad thing Wednesday morning and Dawg warned me when I called on the way home that he and Ripley were not on speaking terms. When I got home Ripley was in a timeout location that we didn’t create for her, she just started using it and then she didn’t leave that spot all night. I picked her up a few times and Dawg held her for a minute to say the punishment was off, but she just kept hanging out in the timeout spot. And then I went to sit down to write this blog post, stood up, looked down, and there was Ripley giving me the love eyes, hanging out on her back with her belly exposed. Yaaaaaay. :) And now? She’s snoozing with her head propped up on a stack of papers on my desk, staying warm by the computer. *zzzzzzzzzzzz*

*In case you missed my habit of leaking Top Chef info, you’re in luck! SPOILER: That’s what Fabio says after he breaks his finger and they ask him if he wants to go to the hospital DURING the elimination challenge. Hardcore, sir, hardcore.

Thursday morning the IT department had two Vegas bets running on my boss. The first was the time he would arrive (I said later than 10:15am, but he arrived at 9:58am) and what his first word would be (I said “fantastic!” but his real first word was “mornin’!”). Apparently I shouldn’t be taken to Vegas right now.

I have recently learned that Ripley does the silent but deadly farts, which means that the one time where Dawg and I thought we heard Ripley fart — yah, she totally ripped one. We don’t call her Rips for nothin’!

Saturday I’m supposed to get my German on with Dawg and his parents for his dad’s birthday. There’ll be some sausage eatin’ but I’ll probably chicken out and get the pork tenderloin. (*snort*)

I’m missin’ my mom and stepdad a lot right for no apparent reason. I hope they come to NYC soon when it’s warmer.

I almost hurled on the train because of my Triangles book. That book makes me seriously nauseous. I’m not sure how much more I can take of it without some spearmint gum and a soda.

Lately the FDA has listed so many recalls on peanut products I can’t even count that high, and yet there was still a woman on the train openly eating trail mix with peanuts. I’m glad to see she’s defying the salmonella odds, but I did wonder if there were any people with peanut allergies in the general vicinity.

It tickles me when Dawg is at work and can’t tell me he loves me because, you know, he’s on duty and stuff, so instead he whisper-asks if I love him. (Yes I do, with all my heart.)

Lil’ M had his surgery and came out of it like a champ. Yaaaaaaay!

Apostrophe accomplished.

I know, I know. It’s like Dawg and I have that similar personality trait of reveling in the fluffy goodness of being the best kept secret on the internets. So, that’s probably why a lot of people didn’t know we hosted a radio show devoted to TequilaCon 2009 last night. But the great thing about TalkShoe is that it archives our show for us! AND! You can subscribe in iTunes!!!

I am now reading Infected as my subway reading. It’s all about the Triangles. You should read it and be freaked the fuck out. So far, so good! Basically, a foreign life form is burrowing itself into your stem cells and turning you into a paranoid murderer. You’re still in there somewhere, but… yah, you’re not in control.

Last, but not least:

Yesterday morning I looked at the uncomfortable pole grabbing of a man with long fingernails. I New York-glanced at him more closely and noticed he was wearing gang colors — coat, scarf, hat, and backpack. I moved my hand to make his grasp of the pole more comfortable then took the opportunity to look down. He was wearing expensive dress pants and brand new dress shoes. Book. Cover.

I would like to remind everyone who reads my words: Don’t give in. Be you. Don’t be who others want you to be. It’s ok to compromise on issues. It’s not ok to compromise on Who You Are. And if you need to be reminded of this daily you go right ahead and bookmark this post. I remind myself of this daily before I reach my Manhattan destination. It’s a necessity.

I had onion rings for lunch Thursday. I assure you, no matter what time it is right now, I’m still experiencing them. They were ungood. Who makes bad onion rings?! Such a travesty.

Ripley has really adorable feet. She wanted you to know.

Aaaaand, finally, doing a project for (surprisingly) my dad and stepmom back home and here’s one of the fruits of my labor:

I red. And Snoopy! And crookedness.

Bro and Mom, I promise I’ll give you the results too, in a different form.

To my Vermont peeps: See you January 24 weekend, ok?

And to all the people who wondered why I know what cockatiels smell like: Because my mom and stepdad had furry cockatiel kids that I treated like my siblings, so I used to shove my nose into their fur and they’d groom me with their beaks. Isn’t that how everyone grows up? (No? oh.)

How does my GMail tell me when it’s bedtime? Well, I have my time correctly set in my account and I’m using the Tea House theme which changes to nighttime when it’s my nighttime.

Today is Faiqa’s birthday! Happy birthday, beautiful lady!

And today… TequilaCon 2009’s location is announced! w00t!

I like tequila. It makes me amorous.

Update:TequilaCon will be in Santa Fe, New Mexico on April 25, 2009. For reals, yo. (No, you don’t need a passport to go there if you live in the United States, duh.)

Look! A video!

I love them.

And now I’m off for the weekend to be hot-stoned. Hopefully my posts after this weekend will be more inspiring. Not that Faiqa isn’t 20000% inspiring.

Later, pontificators!

Today is Ripley’s birthday. Being the AWESOME kitty mama that I am, I totally forgot and Catster had to remind me. I did remember twice before it was her birthday…

…but now it’s her birthday and Dawg has to work until Saturday morning between his regular work shifts and his special out of the country event shifts.

I just conferred with Dawg and we’ll be celebrating her birthday on Sunday, our next opportunity to be together as a family in a wakeful state.

Ripley gets tons of love every day, but I still feel bad for forgetting the arbitrary date I chose to symbolize the date of her birth which I’m not certain of because I got her as a stray from the humane society. Anyway, here are a few photos of Rips the very first day I took her home with me. She was 5 months old and 5 lbs, 5 oz. :} (She’s now exactly double that size.)

Happy birthday, Baby Girl. D and I you to little tiny pieces.

Go see Dawg. Thanks.

Have a phone interview for a job on Tuesday but for now… it’s all about EZA’s birfdy and letting the girls know about their new home. But, while I’m on the road and otherwise engaged please watch classic videos of the kittos.

Allie:

Ripley:

Georgie-girl: