There were a couple of women I missed:
Mrs. A_
She and I don't particularly share tea and crumpets with her being concerned over the way I live my life, or ... who I am, I guess, but you know what? I've been coughing this whole month and I mentioned that I had been buying the Naked Mango Madness drinks at sbux and they were rather expensive, right?
So one day I get a surprise visit from bb's wife: she had swung by Costco and she gave me 6 containers, each of which were a whole quart of Mango Madness.
And I was like, oh, my God, that's so thoughtful of you, and how much to I ...
And before I could even finish she was like, oh, this is for you, and she was like, gone before I could even look for money to pay for it.
I'm ... I'm crying, thinking of her thoughtfulness.
You know, 'the kindness of strangers'? What does that say about anything or anybody? It says that a stranger was kind to you, and it says something nice about them, that they extended themselves for you, a stranger, totally out of the blue. It costs them nothing and it gives them something to feel good about, and you remember it fondly, too.
But the kindness of family? You know, the ones who know you? The ones who have to put up with you and your bitching and your imposition and who have to bail you out of whatever hot water you keep putting yourself into? For them to be kind to you? For 'no' reason? When they have every reason not to? And so, against all that, they do an act of kindness for you, it like ...
Okay. I have to stop now. Or else I won't stop crying.
Lilith
I've seen Lilith three times now, in the Giant plaza. She works as a check-out girl at the Giant where I bought some ... what was I buying that day? I forget, because I looked up, saw her name tag: 'Lilit' and saw her long, flowing obsidian hair and her two pools of dark water that were her eyes.
Yeah: 'Lilit' ... but she doesn't fool me. I got out of that Giant right quick.
And then, another day, I just so happened to be passing by the sbux near the Giant, and there she was, surrounded by at least four suitors, all of them looking at her adoringly. I could just see the headlines in the newspapers the next day: "Four Men Die in Anti-Terror Hate Crimes!" and the article goes on to describe how four young Arabic men had their throats 'slit' with odd puncture wounds and how the chief of police said that he would not tolerate hate crimes nor vigilanteism and that the young men were promising members of their community and had had no previous criminal records.
But I would know what had really happened. Lilith, or Lilit, as she goes by now, and who am I to cross her? Had her fill that last night. Well, I hope those men died happily, you know? Like how Bella takes her victims in Bloodbuzz. I wonder if I should have intervened that night, and offered myself in their place, you know: "Lilit, don't take them; spare them, these promising young men, and take me instead!"
But she may have looked me up and down, scrawny little thing that I am, and not be too enticed with the meager offerings.
And then the Arabic men may have taken offense that I was moving into their territory, mistaking my (not too involuntary) sacrificial offering. And Muslims don't look too kindly on alternative lifestyles or nonmainstream sexual identity. A lot of them don't ... or so I'm told.
I wonder if Lilith knows that I know. She probably does. She had probably heard my heart rate go through the roof each time I've seen her, so the cat is out of that bag on that one.
Rosalie may not be the only visitor through my bedroom window at night.
And Lilith, being the world's oldest woman, well ... she might be able to teach me some things, ... you know?
Hm, hm, hm.
blush
On that note: off to Mass!
Showing posts with label wit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wit. Show all posts
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
My Little Kitten
I have a little kitty. Black, 'short hair,' is the designation, right? I actually wish my last name was 'Black,' so I could name her 'Jett.'
'Jett Black' ... get it?
Or I wish my last name was 'Jett,' so I could name her 'Joan.'
Yeah, she's a bit snarly, a bit feisty.
She's a frisky thing, a playful puss, always, — always, always, always — getting me into trouble.
And so demanding. Just ... such a jealous thing, I mean, she demands my attention all the time.
But she's nice, I suppose, for a pet. And she likes that ... pets, well: pats, that is. And when I pat her, she purrs and purrs and purrs, and it feels so nice, to feel her purring, it's so ... um ... soothing? when she purrs like that, and it puts me right to sleep, her purring like that.
And she's friendly, very friendly, when she isn't shy. And she is so super shy, she just clams up and hides at, ... well, shadows even. She's a tiny thing, so that's understandable, such a little, young kitty. I ... you know ... I was hoping for a fierce guard-cat like a ... I don't know ... panther or something, but she's just a little scaredy kitty. I mean, she's so shy, visitors think I make it up when I say I have a kitty.
And, well, and this is so embarrassing, but I don't really have a name for her. You're supposed to name your kitty, right? But what do I call her? I don't know. I mean, I'm very affectionate with her, but I just ... balk when it comes to out and out naming her.
So I call her 'kitty,' or 'puss' or ...
... or some other things, and sometimes I don't even use words when I 'talk' with her, I just coo as she purrs as I pat her, and she snuggles right up to me and I curl myself around her, and it's like we're so close and intimate that you'd think we're part of each other.
My little black short haired kitty and me.
And I love her, properly and improperly, no matter how much trouble she's been to me and when she's gotten me into, and she loves me, even with my disregard at times, when I can't tend to her needs when I'm at work, or when ... well, ... I pay attention to other people's pets. She's not even (too) (super) jealous of it.
And, well, I have an embarrassing secret.
My kitty? She likes kisses, and ... well, yes, pats but ... nuzzles, too.
And some people would say, 'Ew! Unsanitary!' but I make sure my little kitty is well-groomed, and, well, you may think I'm a bit (a bit?) retentive about this, but I make sure she's cleaned, you know? Nice and clean, all the time, with a pH-balanced wash, you know.
My kitty. It may be boasting on myself, — you know how it goes when parents brag on their kids, and you're like, 'boring! change the topic, please, before I scoop my eyeballs out with this soup spoon!' — but I have to say she's pretty, and I like her, you know, most of the time, even though she's a little, hiding thing, and unremarkable in every respect, even when she comes out for a pat. Why? Well, because she's mine, and I may not take care of myself all that well, but I, like Rosalie, try to take care of what's beholden to me, as best as I can.
... and (oh, god, this was supposed to be a silly-funny post, and now I'm crying! Sh!t) okay, so I may not be the best caretaker in the world, and, okay, so maybe I'm the worst, but I ... but I'm trying, and, like my little kitty, I'm a shy, scared little thing, trying to be a panther, but running even before you say 'boo!' and my kitty gets hurt and does hurt others,... her bite is worse than her meow, and her claws, that sink into you and never let you go can hurt like the dickens (but no infections, so far, crossed fingers)
(there, I'm smiling again, at my own sad stupid little jokes)
... just like me.
But we try, my little kitty and me. We try. And our trying? It amounts to a whole big pile of what we are ... which is nothing.
But, sometimes, ... a lot of the time ... my little kitty is all I have, and she ... well, she's a lot more patient and understanding and kind with me, a lot more so than I am to her, or to anybody else in the world, particularly to myself.
And ... that.
And.
And someday, she's grow old and die out, much sooner than me. Unless she sneaks out somehow and jumps out the window ... cats do that you know ... or gets hit by a truck.
Or, ... dies some other way, and there are so many ways a scared little kitty can die in this big, big world. I mean, even just a look, because you know looks can kill.
So, any moment ...
But, well, I have her now, and she has me, and, well, you know me, and maybe she regrets that she doesn't have a better owner, but, ha!, who am I fooling, she's just a little black kitty with no brain. She doesn't care, she just gets pats from me (most of the time), gets into trouble, and then gets more pats, and that's a good enough life for her. All and all she's a happy little kitten.
Life is so simple, so uncomplicated, looking at it through my little kitty's eyes.
And I'm asked if she's ... you know ... fixed, and that's supposed to be the humane thing to do, but I just don't have the heart for it, to take away something that's what is her. So, you know, there's more trouble sometimes than others. Boy, does she ever get into so much trouble being that randy feral little ball of short black fur that she is, but she is what she is, and I could wish or hope that, but this is what it is, and that's how I take her, and I don't think beyond that, at all. I don't compare her, I don't hold expectations on her, I just take her, for what she is, moment by moment, and, well, she's like that with me: she doesn't take me for anything that I'm not, and she only deals with what I am, moment by moment. When I'm a angry, furious b!tch, screaming into my pillow and throwing punches on my bed, she pretty much leaves well enough alone, when I'm crying and crying and crying just looking at the knife, she just looks and looks and looks at me, but won't come close to comfort me, and that hurts, but she's smarter than me, by half, even though she doesn't have a brain, and when I'm affectionate, well, she can be very playful, even joining in games when I'm playing with another puss ... she may even rub up against another girl's cat, friendly-like, and if there's no visitor with their pet, well, then we have private time to amuse ourselves, then, don't we?
My kitty. My kitty and me. She has me, and I have her, and sometimes that's nice, and sometimes it's pure hell, but we make it work.
I wish I treated myself as well as my kitty. Maybe someday, eh?
Ha! That's funny. I knew I would end up writing a comedic piece.
Hehehe. Haha. Look at little `phfina. So funny. I should go into improv.
Except for the fact that there'd be all these lights on me and everybody would be looking at me.
God, I think I'm gonna be sick now. Excuse me. I'm gonna puke, and then hide under the covers, snuggling with my little black kitty.
... and maybe some Scotch. A lot of Scotch. I just need the world to go away for a while.
A long while.
'Jett Black' ... get it?
Or I wish my last name was 'Jett,' so I could name her 'Joan.'
Yeah, she's a bit snarly, a bit feisty.
She's a frisky thing, a playful puss, always, — always, always, always — getting me into trouble.
And so demanding. Just ... such a jealous thing, I mean, she demands my attention all the time.
But she's nice, I suppose, for a pet. And she likes that ... pets, well: pats, that is. And when I pat her, she purrs and purrs and purrs, and it feels so nice, to feel her purring, it's so ... um ... soothing? when she purrs like that, and it puts me right to sleep, her purring like that.
And she's friendly, very friendly, when she isn't shy. And she is so super shy, she just clams up and hides at, ... well, shadows even. She's a tiny thing, so that's understandable, such a little, young kitty. I ... you know ... I was hoping for a fierce guard-cat like a ... I don't know ... panther or something, but she's just a little scaredy kitty. I mean, she's so shy, visitors think I make it up when I say I have a kitty.
And, well, and this is so embarrassing, but I don't really have a name for her. You're supposed to name your kitty, right? But what do I call her? I don't know. I mean, I'm very affectionate with her, but I just ... balk when it comes to out and out naming her.
So I call her 'kitty,' or 'puss' or ...
... or some other things, and sometimes I don't even use words when I 'talk' with her, I just coo as she purrs as I pat her, and she snuggles right up to me and I curl myself around her, and it's like we're so close and intimate that you'd think we're part of each other.
My little black short haired kitty and me.
And I love her, properly and improperly, no matter how much trouble she's been to me and when she's gotten me into, and she loves me, even with my disregard at times, when I can't tend to her needs when I'm at work, or when ... well, ... I pay attention to other people's pets. She's not even (too) (super) jealous of it.
And, well, I have an embarrassing secret.
My kitty? She likes kisses, and ... well, yes, pats but ... nuzzles, too.
And some people would say, 'Ew! Unsanitary!' but I make sure my little kitty is well-groomed, and, well, you may think I'm a bit (a bit?) retentive about this, but I make sure she's cleaned, you know? Nice and clean, all the time, with a pH-balanced wash, you know.
My kitty. It may be boasting on myself, — you know how it goes when parents brag on their kids, and you're like, 'boring! change the topic, please, before I scoop my eyeballs out with this soup spoon!' — but I have to say she's pretty, and I like her, you know, most of the time, even though she's a little, hiding thing, and unremarkable in every respect, even when she comes out for a pat. Why? Well, because she's mine, and I may not take care of myself all that well, but I, like Rosalie, try to take care of what's beholden to me, as best as I can.
... and (oh, god, this was supposed to be a silly-funny post, and now I'm crying! Sh!t) okay, so I may not be the best caretaker in the world, and, okay, so maybe I'm the worst, but I ... but I'm trying, and, like my little kitty, I'm a shy, scared little thing, trying to be a panther, but running even before you say 'boo!' and my kitty gets hurt and does hurt others,... her bite is worse than her meow, and her claws, that sink into you and never let you go can hurt like the dickens (but no infections, so far, crossed fingers)
(there, I'm smiling again, at my own sad stupid little jokes)
... just like me.
But we try, my little kitty and me. We try. And our trying? It amounts to a whole big pile of what we are ... which is nothing.
But, sometimes, ... a lot of the time ... my little kitty is all I have, and she ... well, she's a lot more patient and understanding and kind with me, a lot more so than I am to her, or to anybody else in the world, particularly to myself.
And ... that.
And.
And someday, she's grow old and die out, much sooner than me. Unless she sneaks out somehow and jumps out the window ... cats do that you know ... or gets hit by a truck.
Or, ... dies some other way, and there are so many ways a scared little kitty can die in this big, big world. I mean, even just a look, because you know looks can kill.
So, any moment ...
But, well, I have her now, and she has me, and, well, you know me, and maybe she regrets that she doesn't have a better owner, but, ha!, who am I fooling, she's just a little black kitty with no brain. She doesn't care, she just gets pats from me (most of the time), gets into trouble, and then gets more pats, and that's a good enough life for her. All and all she's a happy little kitten.
Life is so simple, so uncomplicated, looking at it through my little kitty's eyes.
And I'm asked if she's ... you know ... fixed, and that's supposed to be the humane thing to do, but I just don't have the heart for it, to take away something that's what is her. So, you know, there's more trouble sometimes than others. Boy, does she ever get into so much trouble being that randy feral little ball of short black fur that she is, but she is what she is, and I could wish or hope that, but this is what it is, and that's how I take her, and I don't think beyond that, at all. I don't compare her, I don't hold expectations on her, I just take her, for what she is, moment by moment, and, well, she's like that with me: she doesn't take me for anything that I'm not, and she only deals with what I am, moment by moment. When I'm a angry, furious b!tch, screaming into my pillow and throwing punches on my bed, she pretty much leaves well enough alone, when I'm crying and crying and crying just looking at the knife, she just looks and looks and looks at me, but won't come close to comfort me, and that hurts, but she's smarter than me, by half, even though she doesn't have a brain, and when I'm affectionate, well, she can be very playful, even joining in games when I'm playing with another puss ... she may even rub up against another girl's cat, friendly-like, and if there's no visitor with their pet, well, then we have private time to amuse ourselves, then, don't we?
My kitty. My kitty and me. She has me, and I have her, and sometimes that's nice, and sometimes it's pure hell, but we make it work.
I wish I treated myself as well as my kitty. Maybe someday, eh?
Ha! That's funny. I knew I would end up writing a comedic piece.
Hehehe. Haha. Look at little `phfina. So funny. I should go into improv.
Except for the fact that there'd be all these lights on me and everybody would be looking at me.
God, I think I'm gonna be sick now. Excuse me. I'm gonna puke, and then hide under the covers, snuggling with my little black kitty.
... and maybe some Scotch. A lot of Scotch. I just need the world to go away for a while.
A long while.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Clicks on "Hide Profile"
Kayso, four different girls, from four different country origins, kindly put me into timeout corner.
Hm-hm-hm, not saying anything, looking around, contritely and curiously and a little bit expectantly, waiting to come out of timeout corner. La-la-la.
And Saga wrote, she's studying for an exam, so her silence was that, not the huge drama I had turned it into. Hm-hm-hm. La-la-la. (looks at clock, waits, and watches Show Me, Show Me, Show Me by The Cure on youtube ... actually, it's called Just Like Heaven; Show Me Love is an entirely different song (and despite what the vid shows I'm going on record here as saying as this is totally a les song ... I mean, really! It's the theme song for the sweetest lesbian movie out there, Fucking Åmål, which, yay!, is now up on youtube (but which you shouldn't watch at work) (even though there's no smexing in it per se) (yes, I speak in parentheses) (AND I'm on timeout ... sigh)), that I'm watching right now ... and ... well, *blush* I'm not allowed to watch other vids from ... other places ... right now that I'm in timeout corner ... poutily sung 'la-la-la' as 'phfina looks (more than) slightly frustrated now).
À propos de rein, ... (hehehe ... get that paradoxie-cherie?) ... where is the umlaut key on my keyboard? I can type 'étudiante' no problem (and I have no problems thinking about more than several étudiantes and what they are ... doing ... Rosalie and Bella, anyone? (ooh! do they have room for a third? Hm, yes, perhaps they do!) that I'm not supposed to be doing here in timeout corner (Bad, 'phfina, bad!)), so what's the magic secret to being able to type 'Amal' correctly without all this copying and pasting of umlauts?
Oh, and p.s., postie scriptiusumae (that's not a word), you ever wonder what your girl is thinking when she's sent off to the timeout corner and she looks here and looks there and hums this and hums that and fidgets about? Well, now you know (well, at least for this girl, anyway). AND I think it was a really, really bad idea for me to take my laptop with me to timeout corner, but I have so much to write and so little time, you know?
So, here I am, hm-hm-hm, sitting quietly, not saying a word, in timeout corner. La-la-la (but first two quick clicks to post this to my blog and post that blog entry to my fb page) (okay, done, now I'm really (kinda) being quiet. Hm-hm-hm).
Hm-hm-hm, not saying anything, looking around, contritely and curiously and a little bit expectantly, waiting to come out of timeout corner. La-la-la.
And Saga wrote, she's studying for an exam, so her silence was that, not the huge drama I had turned it into. Hm-hm-hm. La-la-la. (looks at clock, waits, and watches Show Me, Show Me, Show Me by The Cure on youtube ... actually, it's called Just Like Heaven; Show Me Love is an entirely different song (and despite what the vid shows I'm going on record here as saying as this is totally a les song ... I mean, really! It's the theme song for the sweetest lesbian movie out there, Fucking Åmål, which, yay!, is now up on youtube (but which you shouldn't watch at work) (even though there's no smexing in it per se) (yes, I speak in parentheses) (AND I'm on timeout ... sigh)), that I'm watching right now ... and ... well, *blush* I'm not allowed to watch other vids from ... other places ... right now that I'm in timeout corner ... poutily sung 'la-la-la' as 'phfina looks (more than) slightly frustrated now).
À propos de rein, ... (hehehe ... get that paradoxie-cherie?) ... where is the umlaut key on my keyboard? I can type 'étudiante' no problem (and I have no problems thinking about more than several étudiantes and what they are ... doing ... Rosalie and Bella, anyone? (ooh! do they have room for a third? Hm, yes, perhaps they do!) that I'm not supposed to be doing here in timeout corner (Bad, 'phfina, bad!)), so what's the magic secret to being able to type 'Amal' correctly without all this copying and pasting of umlauts?
Oh, and p.s., postie scriptiusumae (that's not a word), you ever wonder what your girl is thinking when she's sent off to the timeout corner and she looks here and looks there and hums this and hums that and fidgets about? Well, now you know (well, at least for this girl, anyway). AND I think it was a really, really bad idea for me to take my laptop with me to timeout corner, but I have so much to write and so little time, you know?
So, here I am, hm-hm-hm, sitting quietly, not saying a word, in timeout corner. La-la-la (but first two quick clicks to post this to my blog and post that blog entry to my fb page) (okay, done, now I'm really (kinda) being quiet. Hm-hm-hm).
Friday, August 13, 2010
'phfina's brilliant observation for today
Yes, today is Friday, the thirteenth. Thanks so much for telling me that again for the thirty-seventh time today. *sigh*
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