Puppy Guts

It is a well known fact that puppies will eat until you take their food away from them or they fall asleep, head down, in their bowl. Unfortunately, I sometimes find myself behaving like a young pup and, aiming for the highest level of gluttony, will eat grotesque amounts of food only to find myself too uncomfortable to sleep and too sleepy to do anything else.

I recently had one of these days.

I was on my feet all day at work and had taken to slight grazing which wasn't too shameful. I consumed a full lunch which was filling, but not uncomfortably so. The two cookies that I could have done without after lunch still did not put me over the edge. Nor did the peanut butter on a spoon that I ate when I got home.

It was the beer and the profuse amount of sushi that I consumed at dinner with friends that did it to me. So much so that I left my credit card with a friend and announced to the table that I had to go home to unbutton my pants. Bloated, I made it out to my car and lethargically drove home while pondering if, indeed, I am as charming as I think I am. Maybe I'm never charming, but I'm sometimes ravenous, and I'm always honest. That has to count for something. At least it counted for me getting away from the table and out of my skinny jeans before the check came.

May the memory live on forever..

My maternal grandmother passed away a few years ago. The night before the funeral, the entire family went out to eat together. As the meal was winding down, we begin sharing memorable stories about Granny. We talked about favorite memories that included visits to her apartment complex, the family size bag of M and M's that she always had waiting for us, and family reunions where she made quite a splash. (Literally- she fell off of a dock while holding my aunt's camcorder. It was America's Funniest Home Videos worthy).

My Granny's best friend, Betty, was at dinner with us. The two had been friends for decades and over the years, everyone in our family got to know Betty really well. During the stroll down memory lane, Betty told us a story that none of us had heard before. She said that she and Granny would often rent videos on the weekends. One weekend, in a nostalgic mood, they brought home "Casablanca." They started the tape and within a few moments they realized they were not watching "Casablanca" at all. Someone, with great foresight, had slipped a porno into the "Casablanca" box and my grandmother and her best friend fell victim. Through a room full of laughs, someone asked Betty if they watched it. She answered straight faced:

"Oh yeah- Katie even insisted we watch it a second time. I guess she liked it."

I'm a terrible kitty momma

If you are one of my 17 trustful followers, you already know about my cat Sophie. She's mean, she's chubby, and, unless you are one of a select few, she doesn't like you.

Lately she has been driving me NUTS. She's always been a chatty Cathy (her talkative manner is what saved her- she meowed until she was found), but in the past few days she has not shut up. She has been especially noisy at night when I am about to fall asleep. She gets going around 9:00 at night and no amount of "Sophie- PUT A SOCK IN IT" will quell her.

On top of the excessive yammering, she has also been slightly more aggressive. She attacked me from behind the other day as I left the kitchen. I was neither impressed nor amused.

All of her unusual behavior was instantly explained to me this morning.

SHE'S HUNGRY.

Right before I left the house, I poured her some more food. I'd noticed that the kibbles I had been giving her were bigger but had regret to notice the DOG on the bag I was pouring from.

I've been feeding my mean cat dog food.

In a rush of shame and embarrassment, I dumped her food out and found the correct bag of food. She went to town on the cat food. Apparently the people at Purina know what they are doing.


*Just in case you are wondering- no, I do not just keep different pet food around my house. My parents recently visited with their dogs and left the bag of food. Apparently it is a totally different color from the cat food. I just had not thought about the fact that I had two bags of food laying around for two different types of animals.

Apples in her hair, apples everywhere.

Flowers apples in her hair, flowers apples everywhere.

When I was a little kid, I use to pride myself on the fact that my parents called me their "Young Republican." I had no idea what it meant, but it sounded cool. While I was too young to know anything about politics, my parents labeled me as so because of my conservative nature. I was the four year old who would tell adults when they've had too much to drink and the six year old who would look at people with a serious face and tell them that their joke was not funny. There was only right and wrong- no gray area. I had the ability to be the biggest buzz kill packed into the smallest body you've ever seen.

Unfortunately, as I have gotten older, my blacks and whites have remained solid. So while I am no longer young OR a Republican, I have not lost the constant (conservative) lense of right vs. wrong. It also took me a good 18 years to learn that partying was OK- as long as it was done in moderation. Both lessons (it being OK and moderation) were learned on the same night in September during my Freshman year.

I didn't drink ONCE before college. I was the President of the anti drug and alcohol club. That's right. You read it right.

When I got to college I was a little turned off by the partying but decided that I would give drinking a try. It was a random Monday night and I was hanging out with my roommate when a girl from my floor showed up with champagne. I definitely know it was a Monday because 1). I had a test the next day in a class that I had on Tuesdays and Thursdays and 2). I had just returned from a trip home where my folks had a party and someone had brought apples and caramel, which they sent back to school with me.

I felt satisfied with my level of studying and decided a drink or two of champagne wouldn't do any harm.

 I finished a bottle in 45 minutes and then switched to white wine, which, as I repeatedly said (or so I'm told), "It's like champagne without bubbles!" I would say that I passed my first attempt at drinking with flying colors- I succeeded. The test that I had the next day is a different story.

My roommate had the same test as me and was studying (or trying to) while the shit show unfolded. I think she stayed up to study after I finally fell asleep and then woke up in the middle of the night as I got to experience the champagne and apples a second time around. I puked. And puked. And puked. And puked.

The next morning I woke up to pieces of apples surrounding me. They were in my bed. They were in my hair. They were in the trash can that my roommate put next to me. They were next to the trash can. While it was hard to focus through my pounding headache, I slowly grasped the situation- apples chunks were EVERYWHERE.

I got up to take a shower (during which I puked twice more) and managed to get myself to the test on time. I cleaned the room when I got back and regretfully apologized to my roommate about what a disrespectful dumbass I had been. She accepted my apology and said she got over being angry during my hours of vomiting when she realized I had punished myself enough and she did not need to say anything.

I later told my parents the story. My dad simply replied by singing "The rain, the park, and other things" but replacing "flowers" with "apples." True story. Words of wisdom.



And if you really want to know, I made a D on that test.


It's better than an F.