Kitty Litter-ature

I’m introducing a new type of writing: it’s called kitty litter-ature. It’s where I make you read an entire blog post about me writing about… you guessed it… kitty litter. You’re welcome in advance. My apologies to those who clicked on this post in the hopes that I would be discussing the life and times of Kitty Wells, Hello Kitty, or something else entirely.

As most of you already know, cleaning the kitty litter box is like… well… cleaning the kitty litter box. It’s one of those chores that has to be done, but no one really wants to do it.

It’s also one of those chores that if left neglected, there are extremely unfavorable consequences. If my husband and I forget to clean it, there’s only so much those fragrant deodorizers can do to help out. During the course of the day, the litter can take a turn from “fresh” to “death” (a smell that I can only describe as analogous to that of potpourri floating in a sewer).

How in the world can something this cute
produce something so inherently rank?
Courtesy of 1funny.com

The ongoing issue that I run into with keeping the kitty litter box clean is that the cats love a clean litter box. Every time I clean it, the cats go right back in there and use it again. It’s a vicious cycle.

You gotta be kiddin’ me! I just cleaned that!
Courtesy of pets.webmd.com

It gets to the point where delusional and evil thoughts start popping into my head:

Hey, maybe they don’t really need a full bowl of food today. Maybe just half a bowl will do it. They look a little overweight.

Hey, maybe if I turn the A.C. down to 50 degrees, it will get chilly in here. They won’t want to drink as much. It does feel really hot in here, and they look a bit feverish.

Of course, I would never do it, but I swear to you, a dirty kitty litter box can push a sane person over the edge.

Conversay-what?!

For those of you who read my last post about conversational challenges during get-togethers, I suppose you can consider this a Part Deux.

As you know, since my husband and I only have cats and dogs, we give partygoers more of a challenge when it comes to conversations. We have started seeing similarities and patterns in what people will talk to us about when they find out we don’t have “real” kids (you know, like the homo sapien kind). Most times, discussions end up revolving around our careers, our pets, or the weather.

Over the years, we’ve gotten some truly disturbing interesting comments and questions about pets.

Here are some of the most memorable:

• “My cat uses a toilet. I can’t get over the idea that I share a toilet with him, though. I still get startled when I walk into the bathroom in the middle of the night and find him sitting there.”

EXCUSE ME, CAN I GET SOME PRIVACY HERE?!
Courtesy of http://muppet.wikia.com/

• “Pets are more work than kids sometimes. You can’t just take them with you on trips, because they’re not good travelers. I mean, they can’t even roll their own suitcase.”

• “My ex-girlfriend’s mom used to have a dog. She used to clean the dog’s butt by dabbing it with a tissue after he went to the bathroom. Gave that poor dog a complex. Now he can’t even look at a box of Kleenex.”

OH NO, NOT A KLEENEX COSTUME! SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!
Courtesy of http://www.arlingtonva.us/

• “All this talk about chocolate being bad for your dog. Bah! I gave my dog M&M’s all the time. He loved them. What? No, he’s not alive anymore.”

• “I used to have a dog. Poor thing got killed in a car accident. At least it wasn’t a hit and run. My dumbass neighbor ran him over while backing out of his driveway.”

• “Can you imagine if we ran around like cats and dogs all day long? Dear Lord, we’d never get anything done at work. We’d be too busy tail-chasing, napping at our desk, and looking for random scraps of food. Wow, come to think of it, we’d be just like that guy in Accounting!”

• “I love cats and dogs. They’re delicious. I’m just kidding. I’ve never eaten a cat.”

HEY, WHAT HAPPENED TO TUCSON?!
Courtesy of http://bayhorsedesigns.com/

After All Is Said and Done

We all experience situations in which we are involved in numerous conversations with different people, especially during get-togethers with those we’ve just met or haven’t seen in quite some time. My husband and I find that during such soirées, pretty much everyone resorts to talking about their kids or grandkids. It’s an easy way for people to keep the conversation going by sharing something familiar and noteworthy.

Since the Silva Gang only comprises furry four-legged kids (cats and dogs, that is), we give partygoers more of a challenge when it comes to conversations. We have no children to discuss, so most of the time, we find ourselves listening to other people drone on about breastfeeding and daycare nightmares.

After a while, people will start asking us about what is going on in our lives. And, since it’s generally considered bad etiquette to ask us about whether or not we are devout church-going Christians, or whether or not we voted for Obama, we find that discussions consistently revert to safer topics such as:

1) The career.

Oh goodie! I love talking about work! Personally, I don’t think I talk about it enough during the 60 hours I spend working. I think the highlight for me this week was when I dozed off and fell out of my chair while trying to meet a deadline. What a rush!

2) The pets.

You would never guess what Fido said to me today on the way to doggie daycare. What a character that Fido! Did you know that he’s also a genius? I think he’s going to make it to Harvard!

3) The weather (which simultaneously signals the demise of the conversation).

Yes, I know, isn’t it extremely shocking that we experience sunlight everyday? And did you hear the reports about those light winds? Whoa! What an anomaly!

Is it just me, or are the questions about religion and politics looking better and better?

There would be less pressure, and discussions would be so much shorter and more interesting if everyone could just text each other at parties… am I right? Who’s with me?

Proof that My Coolness Hit Its Peak Years Ago

1)      These days, my weekly house chores comprise sweeping up pet hair. And, at times, the clumps of hair are large enough to be mistaken for another pet entirely. Enough said.

2)      I have developed an unhealthy obsession with Brad Paisley, which I think sadly has much to do with the fact that his name is Paisley, I like paisley, and he has a guitar adorned with paisley. Paisley, paisley, paisley. Oh yeah, and he also happens to be very easy on the eyes, unlike actual paisley. This is obviously a problem. I would want to see his face much less if he looked more like Steve Buscemi.

3)      I still say BFF. Apparently I missed the memo that announced the transition from BFF to bestie. I’m all about the BF, BFF, BFE and anything else that starts with the letter bacon. FYI- anyone who follows my blog is an automatic BFF in my book.

4)      I just bought an old, badass minivan to fit all the pets, the husband, and me.

Check out my sweet ride.
Photo courtesy of crazycar.com.

I am kidding, of course.

I got you all with that one, though, didn’t I?

In reality, the chances of me buying a minivan are about as low as my chances for hitting the lottery, and my willpower to stop myself from excessive pancake consumption.

5)      After finding this van picture, I actually found myself contemplating how cool it would be if I had one exactly like it, just so I could name it Kermit or Shrek.

 

?

Okay, who the hell is the funny guy who typed a question mark at end end of my blog post?

That one’s for you Ron Burgundy. And Cassie Behl, who reminded me to laugh today with that Anchorman video. http://cassiebehle.wordpress.com/2012/04/12/adversity-its-not-just-a-city-in-adver/

Men and Monogrammed Towels

It’s official. Men like my husband will never be the target market for monogrammed towels.

Forget aesthetics or novelty. They simply don’t appreciate the significance of a monogrammed towel. What they do care about is the functional aspects of a towel, which is why lovely monogrammed towels are regularly put back on towel racks like this:

Or this:

Or this:

Or even this:

I’m starting to think these towels were a really bad investment.

Weather You Like It or Not

I have the pleasure of living in warm and sunny weather most of the time. Unfortunately, this past week, I experienced nothing but torrential rain and thunderstorms.

Believe me, it wasn't as cool as the depiction in the DC comic books.

During a brief breaking point in the downpours, and out of desperation for some sunlight and outdoor stimulation, I decided to go out into the lawn and do some gardening (I know, it wasn’t my finest moment).

Standing in sheets of mud, while a slight drizzle came down over me, I used a gardening hoe to dig up some weeds.

After a while, the rain got heavier, and the sound of thunder boomed overhead. My neighbors stared at me through their windows with looks of disbelief, as if I was a complete lunatic, and they were witnessing the final escapades of a soon-to-be mental patient.

I decided to call it quits before someone reported me. The fear of raising a metal gardening hoe into the air and being struck by lightning was another compelling reason to cease operations.

When I got back into the house, soaking wet from the storm, the hubby quipped: “Done already? Geez, are you gonna melt in a little rain?”

I annoyingly said back to him: “Excuse me, there is thunder and lightning out there. I was swinging a metal tool in the air. I don’t think it’s safe.”

He replied: “It has a wooden handle. You’ll be fine.”

I rolled my eyes at him, and his speculative faith in a simple wooden handle, and I exclaimed: “You gotta be kidding me!”

Bolts of electricity can travel at over 100,000 miles per hour, and they can get as hot as 30,000 degrees Celsius. If something like that came down and hit the top of my gardening hoe (a mere 8-inch by 6-inch metal rectangle), I don’t think I’d be “fine.” I’d probably experience a massive heart attack while simultaneously getting charred to a smoking crisp. Or, at minimum, I’d be knocked on my ass and suffer serious electrical burns.

Yes, kind of like this illustration by Tim Harries.

The point is, never tell your partner it’s okay to go outside in a storm, unless you want to deal with their wrath in addition to nature’s fury never assume you’ll be “fine” standing outside in severe weather, unless you’re Superman. Even well-trained scientists, who test the electrical properties of lightning and lightning theories, take precautions.

If Snoopy Had Been a Cat

Peanuts would have been a very different comic strip if Snoopy had been a cat.

For starters, Snoopy’s pal Woodstock would not have been a friend—he would have been lunch. That poor bird would have been nothing but a feather sticking out of a feline’s tooth (please refer to exhibit A, because that’s what happens when you put a cat and a bird together). No cat could have resisted the urge to hunt and swallow a tempting little yellow canary.

 

Exhibit A:

Photo Courtesy of acartoonchristmas.com

 

As for Snoopy’s infamous dog house: if he had been a cat, it would have been more of a scratching post than a residence.

Snoopy would use a typewriter to type out notes on top of his dog house, and he would pretend to fly his dog house like a plane as the Red Baron.

If Snoopy had been a cat, he would have been beside himself. Most cats hate flying and costumes. A cat would not be caught dead wearing aviator goggles and a scarf, playing the role of a World War I flying ace.

The typewriter and carefully composed notes never would have worked out either. They would have been mere tools with which to sharpen claws. Typewriter ribbon = toy. Paper = toy. You get the point. Besides, Snoopy loved to start his writing with “It was a dark and stormy night…” and no cat would ever write a story about a dark and stormy night. Cats despise thunderstorms and lightning.

I suppose not all things would have been different if Snoopy had been a cat. There are a couple similarities between them.

For instance, Snoopy had conflicting loyalties to his owner, Charlie Brown, and he occasionally showed a contemptuous attitude toward him. Poor Charlie Brown dedicated much of his life to pleasing Snoopy (to no avail), and if his dog had been a cat, there would have been no difference.

Snoopy also liked to sleep on top of his house and not inside it. Cat owners know that cats never sleep in a place that is conventional or expected as well. Buy a cat a nice house, and they sleep on top of it. Or, they completely ignore it, and you find them napping in an underwear drawer. Buy a cat a comfortable condo, and you find them curled up in your decorative fruit bowl in the kitchen (remind us never to offer you any fresh fruit when you come over).

 

Photo Courtesy of squidoo.com/hallmark-peanuts-figurines