My owner-lady can't come to the blogs right now because she's too damn depressed and uninspired. More lap for me, less blog for you I guess. Meanwhile she has asked me to write a guest post which is quite a stretch for me considering that my brain is only the size of a walnut and my front paws are declawed which makes typing a bitch.
Anyhoo... (my owner-lady told me to say that) I thought I would take this opportunity to do that Bernard Pivot/Proust questionnaire that James Lipton does on Inside the Actor's Studio
1. What is your favorite word? Chicken.
2. What is your least favorite word? No!
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? Being told "No!" often inspires me to keep trying that much harder to go after the things that I want. I'm also a big proponent of napping.
4. What turns you off? People who are duplicitous. Also getting wet, it's so undignified.
5. What is your favorite curse word? Motherfucker. I say it all the time!
6. What sound or noise do you love? The sound of children laughing, rain tapping gently on the roof, the can opener, and crinkling paper.
7. What sound or noise do you hate? The vacuum cleaner.
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Dancer.
9. What profession would you not like to do? Accountant. Bo-ring!
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? Jump up here on the counter and have some chicken!
It's going to take every ounce of strength in my being to make this post into something other than a year long rant about how fucking sick I am of college basketball right now. And there you go. I've done it again and dropped the f-bomb in the first sentence, but I suppose it can only demonstrate how I really very sick I am of college basketball.
sickofit - you might say in a tight lipped whisper yell like the kind your mom or aunts used to give you when/if you farted really loud in church (Who? Me?). Let's face it, it's not possible to fart quietly in church, all church farts are loud, but it is possible for your mother or aunts to beat you and scream at you in church or other public spaces without anyone noticing. It's a gift they have.
Anyhoo... that's all I'm going to say about college basketball today.
Instead, while my darling husband hogs the TV on yet another Saturday night, I'm going to busy myself writing a post about things that I want and before I get started I suppose I should explain the title of my post.
You see, sometimes when I tell my husband that I want something it is his little joke to say back at me "Je vousdrais, Je vousdrais, Je vousdrais", which all this time I thought meant "I want" in French. I have even heard him say this to waiters while pointing at menus in French restaurants - in France, so I thought it would make a cute title for my post about things that I want.
Never one to take this blog thing lightly (or at least that's how I feel about it today) I decided before I make a total ass of myself I should probably do a little research and find out the exact translation of "Je vousdrais" and have come to discover that there isn't one. Apparently it doesn't mean a damn thing, except maybe, "Hello snooty Parisian wait person. I am a boorish American asshole. Please smirk at me and drop ashes from your cigarette into my food before you bring it out from the kitchen. Merci!"
So I had to scrap using "Je vousdrais" for my title as I have been unable to prove that it means anything at all, but the desire for a title in French remained. Sadly I remember very little of high school French, (hence my gullibility with believing the whole "Je vousdrais" thing) except for one little phrase that has stuck with me after all these years.
It is a phrase that I remember listening to and trying to replicate while wearing headphones and sitting in a carrel in the foreign languages lab at my high school. It always seemed, especially after hundreds of hours of repetition, profoundly silly. Elle aime le jazz. What? Who talks like that and who gives a merde?
So what was I talking about? Oh yes. Things I want. Just for today, for the sake of my sanity and to reduce the number of scathing comments that I might receive from those more socially conscious readers (if there are any out there), that although they do not appear on this purely selfish list of things that I want, please assume that I truly do want world peace and the end of hunger and poverty.
1. I want living room furniture. New living room furniture. Furniture that hasn't been owned by other people before coming to live with me.
2. I want my neighbors dog to be struck suddenly with larangytis and stop barking all the time (and yet see want #6 - I'm a woman filled with contradictions).
3. I want warm cherry pie with a dollop of vanilla ice cream to magically appear before me, as opposed to me just sitting here craving warm cherry pie a la mode and not wanting to put on pants and leave the house and go to the store to get it, heat up the pie myself etc.. and end up settling for eating an apple (although they are delish) and being dissatisfied which is what will most likely happen.
4. I want our hot tub to go away and be replaced with a covered patio paved with red bricks in a herringbone pattern.
5. I want to get out of going to my Uncle Dan and Aunt P's for Easter next weekend.
6. I want a dog. Specifically this dog - her name is Dollie and she's available for adoption from the West Michigan SPCA. Damn. I should know better than to ever look at Petfinder.com. Isn't she cute? She's a dachshund, chihuahua mix. I'm not getting a dog. MDH and I travel too much and we think it would be too traumatic for our cat, who really doesn't like other animals. Maybe someday.
7. I already mentioned the pie.
Well, I guess that's it. That's all I want for now. Other than for a certain sport that rhymes with tasketwall to be over - forever - or just for this year.
Here's a fun pretend French song by Flight of the Conchords. It sounds like Jemaine says "Je voudrais un croissant", but it's hard to be sure:
We've moved back into our house after 5 days of self imposed home improvement project banishment. They said the fumes from the polyurethane were pretty noxious and would make the house unlivable. It's had more than a day to blow off and I'm finding that it kind of smells like a combination of burnt plastic and Elmer's glue with just a hint of bongwater.
Staying in the hotel was cool while it lasted, kind of like business as usual during the day, but being on vacation in the evening. We ate out for dinner every night and it was quite luxurious to have clean towels every day and someone else to make the bed, although I have a few bones to pick with the Ramada, not the least of which is the unexpected week day closure of the giant indoor water slide that had been prominently featured in all of the hotel's advertising and not a small factor in MDH's decision to stay at the establishment.
Apparently they only get business travelers during the week and apparently business travelers don't care for indoor water slides enough to warrant having a life guard on duty during pool hours. Whatever.
I was more upset about it because MDH had been looking forward to the water slide and was horribly disappointed to find it would be closed for the duration of our stay.
I, on the other hand, am never overly keen to dunk my body into the kind of pool that is geared toward child persons. I get a case of the shivering willies even thinking about all the filthy youngsters too busy flapping around having fun to make their way to the little boys and girls rooms should the need arise. And don't even get me started on those babies that I see in public pools swaddled in enormous diapers, swollen with pool water.
Besides, after my experimentation of late with hair color, I'm not sure what would happen should the chemicals on my head co-mingle with the scary brew that burns my nostrils in a public pool. Perhaps something like this...?
Anyhoo... we're home now and here are some pictures:
The Living Room Before:
The Living Room After:
Turtle's New Cat Bed - I realized that he had no soft place to curl up in the living room anymore...
The best thing that happened to me all week? Finding the most adorable slippers EVER in which to pad around on my new floors ...
Our furnace is broken and the temperature in our house 57 degrees and ever so slowly continuing to drop. Why do these things always tend to happen at the worst time possible?
My husband is out of town. It's fucking freezing outside today. It's Sunday and we will have to pay extra to get it fixed today. We have no money.
Fuckity, fuck, fuck...
Kevin, the emergency furnace repair dude has just left to go pick up the part that he will need to fix it. He has been here before when our air conditioner was busted - in the middle of summer when:
My husband was out of town. It was really fucking hot outside. We had no money.
Here is what is probably a really boring video of better times, namely last night before I realized the furnace was broken. I was snuggled up cozy tight in a blanket on the sofa in the den and about to enjoy a fine feature film about the life of Edith Piaf, called La Vie En Rose, when I was distracted by the antics of Turtle the cat.
UPDATE: All fixed. Six hundred and fifty stinging smacks. Fuck.
My owner-lady can't come to the blogs right now because she's too damn depressed and uninspired. More lap for me, less blog for you I guess. Meanwhile she has asked me to write a guest post which is quite a stretch for me considering that my brain is only the size of a walnut and my front paws are declawed which makes typing a bitch.
The Living Room After:
Turtle's New Cat Bed - I realized that he had no soft place to curl up in the living room anymore...
