Tyler insisted on getting a Christmas tree, so as much as I’ve tried to resist this holiday it looks like we are having a big Christmas bash here on Saturday. I went out and bought some things today and then left a note for the others with suggestions on what they could contribute. Grant seemed to be the most enthusiastic about the whole thing even though he doesn’t have any confirmed guests.
“How much beer should I get? I can get a bottle of whiskey and mixers too,” he said cheerfully from his favorite chair in the breakfast nook.
I was carefully folding my laundry as I took it out of the dryer.
“Um, I don’t know… maybe a just a twelve pack and a bottle of whiskey? Other people are going to be bringing stuff so there’s no need to go overboard.”
“Ok. Well, that’s the other thing… All of my friends are bartenders and they work on Saturday nights, so I really don’t have anyone coming,” he said.
“Oh, well don’t worry about buying a lot of stuff if your friends aren’t even coming.”
“Oh, no I didn’t mean that… well, I was thinking of inviting these guys that I hang out with sometimes, but they are like … DRINKERS,” he said with wide eyed expression.
“We will certainly have a few of those here…”
“Yea, but we like, play beer pong and stuff,” he said.
I have no idea what beer pong is, but it sounds like something you do in a frat house.
“Are they going to break stuff?” I asked facetiously.
“Oh no! And they won’t start a fight or anything!”
Famous last words. This party should be a very interesting mix of folks.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Cat Fight
Grant lives on T.V. dinners. And his room looks like a bomb went off in it. A musty stink bomb from the smell of it. The floor is littered with dirty clothes and empty pizza boxes (I guess he does eat more than T.V. dinners after all). I only know this because I went into his room to check on his cat that had been jumped by my cat on Sunday afternoon.
I was just waking up from a nap in front of the T.V. in the living room when I heard the commotion. Hissing, spitting, yowling, and then CRASH, BANG, BOOM… they were tumbling over the floor, the littlest one just trying to make her escape, but my girl wouldn’t have it. I had to take a nose dive under the piano to break up the fight with my bare hands. I came out of it without a scratch on me, just bruised knees from hitting the floor.
Grant, who’d been watching football in the other room hobbled in on a gimpy foot.
“Is everything okay?”
“No. You should check your cat to see if she’s hurt,” I said out of breath with a pounding heart.
It seems the youngster had no problems at all, but my old cat required a trip to the vet to be pumped with pain meds and antibiotics. I guess she’s not the hell raiser she used to be.
In the meantime, Tyler and I had our own passive aggressive cat fight going on. We’d both signed up for this “yoga” workshop that turned out to be more of a Hare Krishna recruiting session. It was meant to be a weekend long “bootcamp for the soul,” but after a full Saturday of horse shit and incessant chanting of “hare hare hare,” (har-ray)I decided to duck out on Sunday. Tyler made it passive aggressively clear that she was unhappy with me.
“I think I’m going to pass on bootcamp today,” I sent via text in the morning.
She never bothered to respond and when I crossed her path in the evening I only got a surly “hey” out of her. So I just ignored her for a day and now we are speaking again. We were instructed by our guru to chant “hare hare hare” for eleven minutes straight everyday with arms stretched overhead. I’ve been listening to see if she’s going to do it, but I haven’t heard a peep.
When he gave us the instructions I looked at her and said “Our roommates are going to think we are soooo weird!”
“If they don’t already,” she said.
Hmph.
I was just waking up from a nap in front of the T.V. in the living room when I heard the commotion. Hissing, spitting, yowling, and then CRASH, BANG, BOOM… they were tumbling over the floor, the littlest one just trying to make her escape, but my girl wouldn’t have it. I had to take a nose dive under the piano to break up the fight with my bare hands. I came out of it without a scratch on me, just bruised knees from hitting the floor.
Grant, who’d been watching football in the other room hobbled in on a gimpy foot.
“Is everything okay?”
“No. You should check your cat to see if she’s hurt,” I said out of breath with a pounding heart.
It seems the youngster had no problems at all, but my old cat required a trip to the vet to be pumped with pain meds and antibiotics. I guess she’s not the hell raiser she used to be.
In the meantime, Tyler and I had our own passive aggressive cat fight going on. We’d both signed up for this “yoga” workshop that turned out to be more of a Hare Krishna recruiting session. It was meant to be a weekend long “bootcamp for the soul,” but after a full Saturday of horse shit and incessant chanting of “hare hare hare,” (har-ray)I decided to duck out on Sunday. Tyler made it passive aggressively clear that she was unhappy with me.
“I think I’m going to pass on bootcamp today,” I sent via text in the morning.
She never bothered to respond and when I crossed her path in the evening I only got a surly “hey” out of her. So I just ignored her for a day and now we are speaking again. We were instructed by our guru to chant “hare hare hare” for eleven minutes straight everyday with arms stretched overhead. I’ve been listening to see if she’s going to do it, but I haven’t heard a peep.
When he gave us the instructions I looked at her and said “Our roommates are going to think we are soooo weird!”
“If they don’t already,” she said.
Hmph.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
So Long Mr. T.
Yesterday was a very somber day in the house. I drove Tyler to the vet first the in the morning because her cat, Mr. T, had totally lost control of his back end the previous evening. While it seemed there was still hope because his head was fine, she made the decision to put him down. He was 19 years old.
It’s hard to know what to say in a situation like that, so the ride home was pretty quiet. It was still raining pretty hard. Once we got home we just hunkered down in front of the T.V. in the living room.
We will miss his precious little face and his demands for better food. So long Mr. T….
It’s hard to know what to say in a situation like that, so the ride home was pretty quiet. It was still raining pretty hard. Once we got home we just hunkered down in front of the T.V. in the living room.
We will miss his precious little face and his demands for better food. So long Mr. T….
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Novel Plans With Slum
This morning I was IMing with my BFF, Slum, and she said that she was starting a writing project – a novel instead of script. The idea is to commit to writing for two hours everyday. I gave her the thumbs up when she extended an invitation.
“Why don’t we both do it?”
“Like a co-writing project or each write our own novel?” I asked.
I was hoping for the latter because I don’t know what to write about “crazy sex crazed Indian guys that work in IT…”
“We’ll each write our own.”
“That’s a great idea! Sure! Let’s do it!”
I’ve never really had much interest in writing fiction, but what the hell? Why not give it a stab? I have tons of nutty ideas all the time, so I’m going to pick one and stick with it. We’ve given ourselves a 6 month deadline. Seems fair enough.
I immediately left the house and hit the hiking trail to ponder my subject. I have found that being alone in nature, on foot or horseback, is the best way for me to find inspiration. I think I was presented with a story idea that Oprah will love! And everyone knows Oprah can make or break a new author...
What a great idea from Slum, but I’m starting to feel a little guilty about referring to Slum as “Slum." I mean, we're pals now. She's no longer the bane of my existence. It's funny how much I love her now that she's on another continent. I will add her to my long list of successful long-distance relationships. Seems to work better for me... but I digress... So, I’ve thought of switching back to “Rubi,” but I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Thoughts? I know there are at least two religious readers out there. Throw me a bone?
P.S. The no coffee rule on my detox lasted about two hours. So sad... But otherwise I've only eaten blueberries, salmon, and greens with olive oil & lemon juice for two days. My skin looks great!
“Why don’t we both do it?”
“Like a co-writing project or each write our own novel?” I asked.
I was hoping for the latter because I don’t know what to write about “crazy sex crazed Indian guys that work in IT…”
“We’ll each write our own.”
“That’s a great idea! Sure! Let’s do it!”
I’ve never really had much interest in writing fiction, but what the hell? Why not give it a stab? I have tons of nutty ideas all the time, so I’m going to pick one and stick with it. We’ve given ourselves a 6 month deadline. Seems fair enough.
I immediately left the house and hit the hiking trail to ponder my subject. I have found that being alone in nature, on foot or horseback, is the best way for me to find inspiration. I think I was presented with a story idea that Oprah will love! And everyone knows Oprah can make or break a new author...
What a great idea from Slum, but I’m starting to feel a little guilty about referring to Slum as “Slum." I mean, we're pals now. She's no longer the bane of my existence. It's funny how much I love her now that she's on another continent. I will add her to my long list of successful long-distance relationships. Seems to work better for me... but I digress... So, I’ve thought of switching back to “Rubi,” but I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Thoughts? I know there are at least two religious readers out there. Throw me a bone?
P.S. The no coffee rule on my detox lasted about two hours. So sad... But otherwise I've only eaten blueberries, salmon, and greens with olive oil & lemon juice for two days. My skin looks great!
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