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December 2004 Archives

December 10, 2004

My butt would not unclench about this conference

Good morning poppets! I have returned from my grueling 10-day and three city trip, I got back late Tuesday night and boy howdy, am I glad to be home.

It has been so hard being away from home this time of the year. I don’t know if it’s that Mister is unemployed right now, or if it’s that I just need to be in closer proximity to him, but it has been brutal being away. I feel like I am abandoning my post when I leave town.

I know that I am leaving town to go to work. I know that I have to work, I know this. Really. I am just being a whiny little bitch but… it is just not easy this time. I hate to leave.

Let’s run down the past few days shall we? We shall. And by the way, Thanksgiving? Fab. U. Lous!

The week of November 24th (and before) I had been running around like Beavis trying to get everything ready for this huge undertaking of a three-city conference. I got all of my boxes packed and completely drove the man in our shipping department nuts with my neurotic rantings and Rainman-like mutterings, “It must be there on or before the 24th, It must be there on or before the 24th, It Must be there on or there before the 24th…”

You get the picture.

And that was just for ONE of the three cities. This conference around a holiday bullshit is for the birds.

I had all this shit mapped out and planned down to the most minute detail and with such military anal retentive asshattery that I must have received the most impressive eyebrow raise award from my co-worker at least six dozen times. She was all… “Who gives a crap? Where’s my Stoli!? I’m SO over people right now.” I wanted to join her so badly, but my butt would not unclench about this conference.

So… Mister and I got our stuff together the night of the 24th and left town for my parent’s house out in East Texas. After, I must say, Mister made the most delish smoked salmon dip and beautiful salmon for salad that I have ever put in my mouth. MMM mmm MMM!

We made good time, but still didn’t get to my parent’s place until almost 10pm.

After we got there and unpacked, we talked for an hour or two and relaxed. My parent’s place is like a giant Valium. It just gets into your blood stream and makes you gooey all over.

I stayed gooey for a few days, regardless of the lack of sleep and the intense nightmares that the work stress was causing.

While Mister worked on my folks computer to help them graduate from AO-hell, Momma, Daddy and I made Thanksgiving dinner. Oh Momma… gooood stuff. I ate turkey and dressing and pie… the pie, Lordy the pie. I wanted to just lie on the floor and have a whole pie shoved in my face.

Oh, and please unbutton my pants whilst you’re at it my good man. They may have gotten a bit snug is all I’m sayin.

Sweats can have buttons… Shut up.

So… Saturday evening Mister and I headed for the house. Why Saturday you ask? Well, because I had to be at the first conference site Sunday afternoon at noon sharp. Ready to rock and roll. Or at least throw boxes around and set up a registration area. Suck.

Sunday night I was in bed at like 10 pm because my alarm was set for 4:00… that is AM. I had to be at the convention center at 5:45am. It wasn’t pretty. I looked like I’d been hit by a runaway Mary Kay saleslady, in the dark… but she apparently forgot to tell me how to get the puffiness to “Get Thee Behind Me Satan!” Ugh.

It was a long day.

And that night… I got an errant wake up call at 12:30 am from the front desk, so I was up the rest of the night; afraid the phone was going to ring again.

So we’re where now? Tuesday? Ok, I packed up the conference, took my stuff home, did some laundry, cut Mister’s hair (didn’t sleep… remember?… constant butt clench) and went into the office the next morning with my suitcase in the car. I printed out rosters, packed more stuff for my last city (“It must be there no later than the 3rd, It must be there no later than the 3rd… yadda yadda yadda”… WE GET IT ALREADY!) and hopped into my car at 12:30pm to get to the airport by 1:00pm for a 1:30pm flight.

Cuttin it a little close?

Nah.

Lunch? Fuck it.

So… now I’m in Houston. I think. I set up the conference that night, drag myself to dinner with my boss, we graze on appetizers and I fell into bed at 9:30 or so. Up at the ass crack of dawn in the morning to make sure the conference is set straight and then I braced myself for the barrage of people who hate this property, who show up late and still want credit for classes that they were not in, who are too cold, who are too hot, who didn’t get the materials for class because they were late, who don’t like that the chairs are close together, who want tables in the rooms, who don’t like the food, who want more of the food, we need more coffee!, you’re out of hot water! And on and on and on and on. You almost expect these grown people to come to you and say, “Sally touched me so I punched her in the vagina(tm Todd Glass) and stole her No. 2 pencil!”

I spent my day making engineering crazy: “Can you turn the a/c down in Ballroom D?” “Can you turn the a/c up in Ballroom D?” “Can you turn down the player piano in the lobby? It sounds like elves on crack.” “Can you turn up the a/c in Wedgwood?” “Can you turn down the a/c in Wedgwood?”

You almost don’t hear the attendees by the end of the day, it’s sad. “Frank is on fire in Salon 3.” “Ok, thank you, I’ll call engineering and have them turn the a/c down.”

Bless their hearts, I hired out the audio visual to a team of experts and let them handle the high maintenance speakers and their crazy requests. “Can you wire my voice into this remote controlled dog?” “But of course sir, I’ll get right on it.”

Friday was a bit more laid back. I was more anxious to hear about an interview Mister had with a large corporation. It’s his 3rd interview with them and I want to scream at them to hurry the hell up already, but they are taking their time with it.

So, I did my time at the conference, packed it up when the day was over and headed to the airport. I got home at 10pm or so and was dog-tired. So Saturday I don’t even remember. I think Mister did my laundry for me as I sat, shell shocked, on the couch, with the History channel turned on for comfort, and my cat in my lap.

Sunday we went to church and then I came home and packed again to leave for San Antonio. This trip would be my favorite, I thought. It’s my favorite property out of all of the properties that we normally use, I love the staff, they are so easy to work with and they make things run so smoothly for me. And the people in San Antonio are so laid back. As long as I was not going to be at the San Antonio Convention Center I would be fine.

I got a little panicked as I was on the plane and the flight was so bumpy that the stewardess almost fell into my neighbors lap as she was headed back to her seat. And then even more freaked when I realized that I didn’t remember where I was going. But, we landed, my co-worker raised her eyebrow at me (that’s probably seven dozen) and said “Goob, we’re in San Antonio.”

The lack of sleep was probably my biggest problem this whole time. The hopping from hotel room to hotel room and never being comfortable, worrying that my materials would arrive in time for each conference, worrying about Mister and all things stressful just added up to be one big ball of, “Oh Hell NO, you are NOT sleepin!”

Monday night the committee and the speakers headed out to their normal first day of the conference dinner and as always asked me to go with them, I actually told them I would, which was a mistake. Not because of the company, the company was great, the food was great, the margarita was great… but I had a raging migraine that wanted to spank my ass and for me to call it Daddy that started at about 3:30pm. I figured it would go away after I got some protein in my system. No way Jose’. (By the way, who the hell is Jose’? Cuervo?… Anyway…) I was practically retching by the time I got to my room Monday night.

A pleasant thing did happen while in San Antonio… hey, The Other Chad… do you ever go to the Laugh Stop in Houston?

Hush… I’m getting to the point.

Ya’ll remember me telling you about the sweet guys I hired out to do the audio visual? Well they helped me out in Houston (Dave K. did) and then he sent his counter part Charlie to do the San Antonio portion of the conference. And what do you know…? During the course of the conversation, (somehow, who knows… no really, don’t ask…) I impersonated the large gay guy from Mad TV doing the “Fanta Girls” commercial dressed up as the purple one, “Hi, I’m LuLu…” Shut it. It’s funny.

Well, one conversation led to another and I guess because I was such a dork to make an ass out of myself in front of a complete stranger he decided to trust me with the information that he… the sound guy, Charlie (stage name Chuck Savage) is a stand up comic in the Houston area and he does those promos for the Improv in Addison with Todd Glass and all that funny stuff. I can’t wait to see his show… he’s a riot… here, click on the link… that’s him … on the right… without the mustache.

As I suspected, San Antonio did go very well, and I am finally home. All of my stuff made it to their perspective cities and now, back to the office. But I have yet to unclench my butt.

I have a planning meeting with a large committee for a difference conference on Monday.

Quick note: Wednesday I left work at 3:30 to go run some errands before I went to the house. I stopped by PetCo to get Max some litter and jumped on the tollway to go home.

Where the tollway and 190 merge I saw this large white van with no windows on the side panels and a 99.5 The Wolf sticker on the back bumper. I immediately got this cold feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.

The van looked like it was moving pretty slowly so I pulled around behind it so I could get over into the fast lane. When I did so I saw this large man in the driver seat gesturing wildly to his passenger as he was talking.

I knew who it was but I had to make sure.

Dear God.

I pulled into the fast lane and made sure that there was a truck in between me and the van, but where I could get a positive glance at the driver of the white van.

It’s him. Shit. He’s back in town.

You guys remember me talking about Neal? The seven-foot (6’11”) junky? Yeah, that jewel is back in Texas.

I immediately called Amy to let her know that I saw him so she could tell her husband so they could be aware. He knows their last name, not where they live now, but I’m sure that he could find them if he wanted to.

That got me to thinking. Public records have my name change on file and my marriage license too. He could find me just as easily.

I went home and told Mister.

He’s not worried.

I have to admit… it shook me up a bit seeing him that way, somewhere I never expected to see him again. Texas.

I’ll tell you guys the full story someday. But I think I’ve reached my word limit for today.

Email me babies! It’s good to be back!

December 14, 2004

Looks like an octopus attached itself to my face and won't let go.

I love this colder weather; it makes me want to run around like a frisky pony. I know, that may not be an image that you want stuck in your cranium, deal. I guess the fall was skipped altogether here in Texas and we went straight from balmy to 蘇oly shit it痴 cold!�


I知 excited about my evening, I have a little get together planned with a few girlfriends that were witness to at least one rump shaking in college. We called ourselves the Kerr Krew due to the dorm we lived in.

Complete with wacky spelling of crew and everything.

Yes, we were fly.

No, no, I do not have one cool bone left in my body, shut it. I can use fly in past tense. Leave me alone. I am reveling in the glory days.

There were, at one point, about 14 of us, and tonight I think about 5 of us are going to meet for margaritas at a tex-mex place. I didn稚 get to go last time, so I知 excited that I知 getting to go tonight.

I actually even fixed my hair this morning with a blow dryer and everything. No kiddin.

So, yeah, you can imagine my disappointment when I went to the ladies room a few minutes ago to tinkle and I checked my reflection in the mirror as I was washing my paws and I beheld a head full of flat, static-y hairs.

Sassy.

This will not do pig, this will Just Not Do.

When I left the house this morning I looked (what I hoped to be) pretty darn cute. Long silhouette of tan, cuffed pants, ribbed claret sweater with turtleneck, and the sex boots (Hilfiger stack heel boots� sexy� hence the sex boots). Now, I look like I have been drowned in some sort of scientific experiment in static.

Make up? Gone.

Hair? Nary a curl in sight. What was once curly hair, has been straightened on purpose and is normally flow-y and long (past bra strap) when dried with the blow dryer and curled� strategically, mind you, with the big barrel curling iron� NOW is a long mousey thing that looks like an octopus attached itself to my face and won稚 let go.

Wispy things (aka... hair) are flying around my head looking for purchase on anything within grabbing distance.

Fan blades? Check.

Phone cords? Checkity Check Check bitches.

This is awful.

Oh, and� AND, my bra is too big and the girls have decided to go to Mexico for the afternoon if you know what I mean. And I think you do. We池e not talking WAY south� just a little south of the border. More than I知 really comfortable with. Geesh.


Look, let me distract you with pictures Maximillian MacGilliKitty the Third.

Yeah, he痴 gorgeous.

Anyway.

Christmas!

I知 Martha Stewart Incarnate� Or Incarcerate-d� whichever� and if by that I mean that I haven稚 bought one present yet. Then that is totally what I mean.

Yeah, I got nothing.

December 17, 2004

I have approximately 6 shopping days left and not one leetle present wrapped under the tree.

So, it’s Friday poppets and I still don’t have my Christmas shopping done. Done, hell, I haven’t even started. I have approximately 6 shopping days left and not one leetle present wrapped under the tree.

Oh, I knew I was forgetting something.

I don’t even have the blasted tree.

Color me the jaunty shade of, “I couldn’t give less of a rat shit if someone paid me.”

Merry Christmas!

My co-worker (“who is the alcoholic with no-stop issues”… her quote poppets, not mine… she’s really a cutie) just said that I sounded a bit bitter in that last little bit of text. So, sue me. We just found out by the company newsletter that books are contraband. Other things are forbidden, like playing games online and watching movies at your desk… neither which I do, but Books? I can’t even read during my lunch hour.

But here is some good news. Do you all remember back when I went to the Neuro and he ran all of these blood tests? An ANA and a few others… if you don’t remember the story, please click on this link.

Anyway… I went to the Neuro today for my follow up. I got there promptly and waited in the lobby for no longer than 8 minutes (love him, loave…. Really.), they called me back, checked my blood pressure and my pulse all the while Dr. Bell was taking notes on his little laptop roll around desk thingy. He doesn’t have the nurse practitioner take notes and then transcribe them into his folders later… he does it himself, while he’s talking to you. Love him. Really.

He asked me how I was; I told him that my migraines have been like clockwork (orange) and I can basically count on them to show up every 4th Sunday at approximately 2pm.

[Note: I keep getting this picture of my period showing up like that frog in that old cartoon with the top hat singing, “Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my rag time gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllll…!” Just me? Kay.]

But that this last one, because I was so stressed with the conference, it got pushed to Monday at 3:30 pm and it was a doozie.

We discussed that Mister and I had tried to outsmart the migraines with Midol, with loads of caffeine and protein and other holistic attacks the month before, but it didn’t work. He gave me a knowing smile with his red-rimmed blue eyes and nodded his head. He gave me a few samples of things to try to eschew the onslaught of the migraine for the next time and for that, I am thankful.

Then, we got down to business.

He told me the real reason why I was there.

“Susan, the I have your lab results back, and the news is good. Your ANA and (blah blah blah*) were positively normal… you do not have Lupus.”

And then he kept talking, but I didn’t hear anything else because I was screaming YEE HAW in my head! Thank you Jesus!

*He said something else here and I wasn’t paying attention, I latched on to the ANA because it scared me so the first time I heard about it.

I told him about asking the other doctor about the ANA test and his little blue eyes got huge, he asked me how much sleep I lost over knowing I was being tested for Lupus. Bless his sweet little ponytail wearing heart.

So, yes, good news. It will be a Merry Christmas.

Sorry for being a big fat Scroogey pants.

Love you babies!

December 20, 2004

It's so good that if you put it on top of your head, your tongue would slap your brains out - trying to get to it.

I just got off the phone with an old friend, L. We’re having lunch tomorrow and I couldn’t be happier to see her. She happens to be the sales representative for a property in the mid-cities area that I use quite often. It is a smaller property with a well-versed staff and a small ballroom that can be broken up into perfect sections to fit my needs for my conferences.

I’ve known L for a while. I knew her before had this job, when I worked for hand boss. She’s always been someone I’ve gravitated to. But I have been very lucky to be able to get to know her pretty well over the past year. She is a bright woman with such a light that just flows out of her.

She understands my grouchiness and overall malaise even at this time of the year. She took a pretty hefty pay cut to take her current position, and so did I, but alas, I was unemployed when I took this position, and I am sure I would have taken a shiny new position at the local McDonald’s (or a retail establishment… because that was my choice of torture when I was in high school/college) if it would have come down to it, that is, if I would have been unemployed for a few more months.

Speaking of, I feel so badly for Mister. The man has come down with a nasty upper respiratory infection and a sore throat. We sent him to the doctor on Friday and Dr. W sent him home directly after the appointment and put him on bed rest. He is so stressed about this unemployed over the holidays thing (and in general) that he’s made himself sick over it.

L and I were talking about Mister being unemployed and why I work for associations and our overall holiday cheer. Why is it so hard to find the joy this year? Money had been a hell of a lot harder to come by in the past for me and for Mister both. Hell, he was raised in a family of missionaries, he knows the meaning of the word po’. So, money can’t be the only thing that is squelching my Christmas spirit.

I’ve never really worried about money before. If it was there, bonus, if not… I would scrimp and save until it was.

I was also able to purchase gifts for my family on Saturday, all because of gifts from others. There is a nice man that I work with, and because we book him to speak so often, he sent myself and the other planners American Express gift cheques and I also got $25 from my company for a little Christmas bonus. So with that money I was able to buy presents!

I’m excited about that, and I stayed in my little budget, so why can’t I be all “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas….” And sing carols to everyone as I drive around town?

I hung up my little bows on the carriage lights in front of the house.

Mister hung the wreath we made on the front door.

We bought Christmas cards and I got the addresses yesterday to make sure that they are correct. (Sending them today.)

Mister even made gumbo… it’s not Christmas gumbo or anything, but boy howdy, it’s so good that if you put it on top of your head, your tongue would slap your brains out … trying to get to it.

Now, that’s some good gumbo.

He calls it Jumbo.

Maybe it’s because it is supposed to be 70 degrees today. Who ever heard of a white friggin Christmas when you can go swimming outside? The good news is that we may have flurries Wednesday night. And in Texas, flurries will possibly mean about seventeen flakes that gang up on one poor old lady and stick to her windshield as she comes from getting her rinse put in her hair at the local salon down in Highland Park.

I accidentally typed saloon, and that sentence seemed a bit more interesting, albeit more confusing. What would an old woman from Highland Park be doing at a saloon after she just got her rinse done? And why would she be getting gang banged by some group called the Flurries? That slut.

Moving on.

I’m actually working on one of those 100 Things About Me deals that you see on all of the cool kids journals. Like here or here. Yeah, I know… Martha’s isn’t 100 things. Suck it. Mine’s only 56 right now as we type. And I may start my naming past animals that I’ve had or movie stars that I’d like to kiss or at least smell. That sounded pervy. How about boys that I’ve kissed?

1. Michael B.
2. John H.
3. Terry M.
4. Andre
5. John

Oh man, this is going to take a while.

What about boys that I um… had, uh…. “Long-term” relationships with.

1. Terry M.
2. Mike D.
3. Tim S.
4. Troy M.


Man, I need to stop right there. We’ll do the 100 things about me list and then we’ll move onto other lists as they arise. Deal? Deal.

Oh, and speaking of lists. Our good friend Chad @ TheOtherChad.com has returned the favor and sent me a list of questions which we will stretch out and turn into entries for next week… or maybe this week. Whichever.

I hope your week will go fantastically well, and as always, thank you for reading!

December 27, 2004

I did find true love on the Internet. Once.

I had just gotten back from Vegas. My feet were aching and I had a bruise under the toenails of both big toes from my feet swelling in the Vegas heat. Being on your feet for 14 hour days and then going dancing at Ra several nights in a row was not the smartest move I had ever made, but it sure was fun.

I was lucky enough to catch an early flight that night and I got back to my apartment and climbed the three flights to my little haven with the chilly air conditioning and my comfy couch.

It was so quiet. The only noise was the steady hum of the air conditioner, the drop of the ice in the icemaker and the baby box fan on my bureau in my bedroom.

Too quiet.

It was too late to call anyone to go out, I was beat anyway. I still needed to do laundry and get myself put together for work in the morning.

I slipped Al Green's Greatest Hits into the cd player and pushed play, then I started the laundry and sat down at my computer.

I checked my email, nothing new, just a couple of pieces of spam, a few notes from Kim, one from Amy, one from Kate and… hmmm, what’s this? A note asking me to come into the IRC channel I used to frequent. Apparently there was some pretty juicy gossip afoot.

I logged into IRC, did the password thing, hopped into channel and immediately got bombarded by a bunch of newbies with private messages asking “Age? Sex? Location?” I ignored them or told them to collectively fuck off and found my girlfriend Amy, she was an operator in the channel and she was the one who asked me to come in when I got home.

Amy: Hey chica.
Me: What’s up?
Amy: You’re never going to believe this…
Me: Try me..
Amy: First… how was your trip?
Me: Stop stalling… it was fine, give up the gossip sweets.
Amy: Well, Marcus was in here earlier and he was asking about you.
Me: Marcus? No shit? I thought he’d given up. Last thing I knew, his ex-wife moved back to town and brought his kids with her.
Amy: Well check this out….

Amy told me that he had been in the channel and she was curious, so she pinged his IP address and did a “whois” on his nickname to see if it was him and what channels he was in. Some very interesting information came up when she did that.

He was visiting some “married-but-bi” channels or something.

I was aware of Marcus’s leanings hence the ex term in front of the boyfriend moniker. There was more, so very much more as to why we weren’t together but I was done with him and not really worried about his sexual orientation.

Amy: That’s not really the reason I asked you to come online.
Me: What’s the deal?
Amy: Did he ever take a picture of you?
Me: Ames, how long was he hanging around? Since God was in short pants right?
Amy: Riiiiiiiight.
Me: Oh, no.
Amy: Oh yes.
Me: What did he do?
Amy: Well, he’s in some gay/bi/married channel or something and he has a picture of you that he’s sending out as himself with the name of Amanda on it.
Me: Isn’t that his ex-wife’s name?.... Oh shit.

So, a fun filled evening of finding out what pictures of me were floating around some sleazy channel (and the Internet) was the order of business. I called him on it and seriously considered putting an ad with his real home phone and address in a gay men’s magazine or just making neon flyers and passing them out down in the gay district of Dallas… but alas, my nice side won out and I just placated myself with thinking of him working at Burger King.

I was so exhausted and lonely and tired of the bullshit.

All of the years of swallowing the bitterness. All of the darkness I kept hiding within myself. All of the forced grins when I was grimacing on the inside.

I was done.

All I had ever wanted was to love something and be loved.

The games and being used were wearing me out in a big way. I had been used financially, emotionally, sexually… you name it.

I fell, like so many women, into a trap of basically “playing with whomever came to the door”. I was not choosy. I didn’t feel like I had any right to be. After all, I was just some broad with a college education, no family, no boyfriend, no history (that I wanted to share with anyone) and no future. And to top it off, I had a tubal pregnancy/miscarriage and a divorce under my belt.

What a catch.

I decided that I. Was. Through.

Right then and there.

I told all of my on again and off again boyfriends that I was done with them and for once in my life I burned bridges and ended friendships. I ended a friendship with a girlfriend that was not mutually beneficial. You ladies know the type, those girlfriends that take and take and take. They demand you be somewhere and then take some more, they wear you down with their drama and their neediness.

Emotional vampires. All of them.

I let them all go.

I stopped reading Vogue and Cosmo and anything that would make me feel more like a humongous piece of shit for not having a man and not being a size two at 5’8”. Fuck them too.

I spent hours and hours with Stacey at various bars and hangouts finally venting my frustrations and lancing my bitterness. Slowly the torrent of hate, frustration and anger eased to a trickle. God love her, she endured probably more than a girlfriend has a right to ask another one to, and for that, Stacey, Thank You.

Then I got online and found the perfect man. Shut up. I did find true love on the Internet. Once.

I searched and searched for him. I looked high and low. I looked in Dallas and the surrounding areas. I asked friends (the ones I had left) and neighbors. I consulted the newspaper and the want ads.

I found him.

He was young, well muscled, quiet, kind of shy and had the prettiest green eyes I had ever seen.

I went to pick up Max on June 17th, 2002 at the Irving SPCA. They had him listed as a Russian Blue, which I believe he is partly. They had him named Smokey. He was placed in the pound, which is a no-kill shelter, on February 5th, 2002. He was a fully intact male until June 5th, 2002. For those of you who don’t know, that means that he was most likely locked in his tiny little kitty cage for those 5 and one half long ass months.

They didn’t have the funds to fix him until then, and they won’t let them out with the other cats until they are spayed or neutered.

When I went to go meet him that day he was sitting on the floor in the cat room with all of the other fixed cats. He had his eyes on the floor, his little front paws tucked under his chest and he just sat there. I let him smell me and he was totally uninterested. I could have been a piece of peat moss.

I pulled him into my lap and that’s when I noticed the abysmal shape his coat was in, there was feces in his tail from his litter box not being cleaned out, his fur was dull and lifeless and he had dander all over his fur. It looked like he had dandruff.

He didn’t resist me, he just sat there. He didn’t react to me petting him or arch into my touch. My heart almost broke.

I had to get him out of there.

I filled out the paperwork without breaking into tears and gave the lady $75. She gave me a cardboard box with holes in it and Max went into it willingly enough. I fled from that place and called the vet closest to my house and told them I was on my way.

I took Max to the vet, then to PetCo. He got a clean bill of health at the vet and some new cat food, a new litter box, new food dish and water dish, new litter liners, new litter, a new collar, a cat brush and a Kitty Kat Alpine Climber (complete with kitty kat crack) at PetCo. I took him everywhere… just inside the box. And I talked to him for the whole three hours it took us to run those errands.

I got to the house and I took him and all the kitty accoutrements upstairs to my little air-conditioned quiet abode. I put down the box, but left him inside of it. I got his water and his food set up, his litter box and his Kitty Kat Alpine Climber (complete with kitty kat crack) set up in the corner and I talked to him the whole time… then I let him out.

I sat in the middle of the living room floor with the kitty brush and let him wander around my little one bedroom, one bath apartment. He looked around for what seemed like forever and then came over to check me out.

I held the brush out to him and then started working on his coat, he rolled over like a dog and started purring.

He lets me sleep on him, hug him, cry on him and sing to him… and he doesn’t complain all that much about my singing.

Who says you can’t find love on the Internet?


About December 2004

This page contains all entries posted to Suzanna Danna in December 2004. They are listed from oldest to newest.

November 2004 is the previous archive.

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