Any Second Now, Two Minute Warning

17 11 2016

Depeche Mode is indirectly related to why I do not know Algebra or Geometry. I wish I was joking, but sadly, no. I spent most of my time in Algebra I and Informal Geometry, either having lyric reciting contests or song title contests with a friend of mine. (The rest of my time was spent passing humorous notes back & forth with my best friend – who is now my Spouse – and smoking a cigarette after I was dared to). All Depeche Mode songs, mind you. She (my friend) was kind of amazed at my dedication to them too, after all I was not the long time fan she was, I only discovered them early on my Sophomore year. She knew more about the actual band members than I did, but I have 6 albums worth of their songs permanently etched into my brainmeats.

Recently I found the remastered version of the entire A Broken Frame album on youtube and had to listen. The songs all came flooding back and I can still recall all the lyrics, like old friends.





Why My Cat is a Fuckface

30 10 2016

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I have been owned by cats my whole life, enough of them to know that they all have their own personalities. Some have been more standoffish than others, some have been so in my face that they made me nuts. Enter my current cat, a ridiculous Maine Coon named, Colette. Colette is a rescue beast, one that I found at a shelter/vet’s office around Christmas one year. The staff had named her Coal, and I was thinking it was because of her dark, dark brown-black fur. It wasn’t until she was a permanent fixture in our home that I made the Christmas and coal connection.

She was 6 months old when I adopted her, and had been found feral prior to her brief stay at the shelter. When I was picking her up, they actually knocked $10 off the adoption fee because she threw a royal hissy fit over having her last shot. At the time I just thought it was odd that they would do this as it didn’t seem weird to me that an animal that was kept in a cage all day, would be pissy towards her captors. Warning bells should have rang in my head when they were all completely shocked that she let me hold her. She was not completely docile in my arms, but I chalked that up to being with an unfamiliar person.

I get her home and she immediately walks around the house, tail held high, sniffing out everything. This I felt was a good sign as most cats new to an area will slink and cower a bit until they get the lay of the land. She was already the mistress of her domain from the moment she set paw inside. This was a huge issue with our existing cat, an elderly, dainty, but fearsome abyssinnian/tabby named Abby. Abby took one sniff, hissed, swiped and stalked off. This relationship NEVER warmed either. They remained aloof but mortal enemies until Abby’s death a couple years later.

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At 6 months, Colette seemed to be a typical American Longhair. Her size seemed normal to me. However, by 9 months, when she was already larger than Abby, I knew something was up. When she reached a year old it was finally glaringly obvious that we had a Maine Coon mix on our hands. So much of her build, behaviors, etc. fit with being a Maine Coon…a large breed cat that sometimes feels more dog than cat.

It became apparent early on that Colette was not going to be the lovey dovey pussycat my children would have loved. Nope. This is unfortunate as Abby was never the ueber friendly cat either. Abby would allow the boys to pet her though and would even sleep with them on occasion. She was never hostile towards anyone but dogs, other cats and all the animals outdoors. Seriously. She ruled the yard with an iron claw. Months after her death I caught a neighborhood cat sneaking into the yard to crap by the fenceline, only to dart back out again like his ass was on fire. You can call me crazy, but I like to think that the other neighborhood cats dared him to shit in HER yard. Maybe a bit of new guy to the ‘hood hazing. But, getting back to it, Colette refused to let anyone but me pet her, and she stuck to me like furry glue, even going so far as to sleep under my monitor and swipe at my hands when I would type sometimes.

As she eventually grew far, far too large to sleep in her little under monitor niche, she started sleeping on the side of my desk, but that too became more problematic the bulkier she grew. These days she is banned from the desk entirely as she would take up at least half of it even while curled up.

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As she was attaining critical mass, we were also learning to become used to her many, many flaws and foibles. She hates strangers. HATES them. Except she doesn’t just go hide from them like a normal cat, oh no. All usurpers to her kingdom are met with growls, hisses and then slinking face rubs all over their legs. I know, contradictory as all hell and confusing for any person who meets her. “Does your cat like me or hate me?” It’s pure hate, believe me…I think the face rubbing is a way to lull you into a false sense of security. DO NOT try to pet her. While I doubt she would bite anyone hard enough to break the skin…there would be biting. Even I, who am allowed to ruffle her fur and more, get nipped on a daily basis.

She seems to not like when strangers to the house are near me either, and will guard me with a barely checked, quivering rage. A few times I have given her some all natural calming herb cat treats but even those only took the edge of her anxiety away. And this is really what it is, anxiety over the newcomers. She really is not hateful so much as she is deeeeeply distrustful of all humans. If you happen to smell like dog, you might as well sign your death warrant. She is NEVER becoming your friend. EVER. Those who have the audacity to come before her reeking of canine get put in her permanent book of loathing…in indelible ink.

At this point in my posting, I should really just start to list the many things she does that are out of the norm for any other cats that have owned me, otherwise this will become a book:

  • Refuses most cooked or raw meats unless it’s canned fish or bologna. She has a wicked love of bologna.
  • Growls whenever anyone knocks on the door or rings the doorbell.
  • Gets super jealous when I am at my computer desk and looking at any cute animal photos. I make cooing noises which spurn her to mew at me with her meeplike peep of a meow and stretch herself up, paws on my desk, to get my attention.
  • Loves all baked goods. ALL OF THEM. Sure she will refuse a turkey leg, but will take my hand off for a cinnamon roll.
  • Cheese. The beast is a whore for cheese. If it happens to be a cheese sandwich – cheese + bread – watch out. That is like crack to her.
  • Is really kind of stupid. I can fake her out with the pretend toss like you can a lot of dogs.
  • Is always somewhere within my general vicinity and will even bust in on me on the toilet. There are entire rooms of the house that she never even enters…until I do.
  • Whenever I leave the house, she hides somewhere and won’t come out until I get home and am home for a while. This is something that she only started in the last year or so.
  • Is terrified to go outdoors, though she will make brief trips if I am with her the whole time and even then only on the porch.
  • Is scared to death of birds.

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Honestly, she really is not so much a fuckface as she is a true character and takes some patience and understanding to get used to. I cut her a lot of slack because the fact that she didn’t really live around humans until she was 6 months old means she was never properly socialized. Despite all of this, I am ridiculously smitten.





Dream On, Freak

29 10 2016

Lately I have been contemplating getting back in to my blogging and also trying to finish a book I started a few years ago. This led to me having the following dream just now.

In it I found myself starring as the bumbling heroine of my very own Asian drama, wherein I was the zany but adorable 20-something Korean girl* and I was trying to be a writer. I started my first writing project by writing on the sides of clear plastic storage bins with a bic pen. A black bic pen. I even went so far as to try to snap a cool/funky photo of my contemplative reflection on the side of the first box while I wrote. The shot kept not coming out, so I eventually gave up. However, I had a great start to my writing on that container. Enter the object of my dream affections and me scrambling to hide my prose lest he see it and mock. In my ineptitude I manage to destroy all evidence of my writing, because of course I do..this is my drama! Next, I abandon the writing on plastic container scenario and decide only fruit skins will work for my writing and begin to peel about a billion oranges. Guess who makes a personal appearance while I am mid-peel? Yup…the Dream Man, and naturally this leads to a hilarious cliched scene involving squirted juice in my eye and me frantically trying to explain myself. After a stumbling and stuttering blurting out of my intentions vis a vis said fruit skins, Mr Hawt and Dreamy asks me why I do not value my work enough to write on something that is not trash.

Then I woke up.

I am sure there is a metaphor or a deeper meaning there somewhere and it’s not just my twisted brain…

*Let’s not forget that I am neither young, nor Korean…for some reason I am never myself in my dreams, but I am completely myself, if you get my meaning. Also, there was actually a lot more to the dream, all my dreams are convoluted and full feature films. I just can’t always remember exactly what happened except the bits right before I wake up. I do know that my dreams are always very vivid and realistic though.





Me…Fighting!

29 10 2016

For weeks now I have been sucked into watching various Asian dramas. Taiwanese, Korean, a few Japanese and one Chinese one. It’s become my obsession. I have even watched various forms of the same manga-based shows just to compare. It’s become so commonplace for me to hear Korean, Japanese or Mandarin spoken (and I can tell the difference between the three) that I think if I heard one of them spoken while out & about I would expect subtitles to pop up in front of my face for me to read. I have started to pick up some Korean & Mandarin words as well. I already had some Japanese stored in my echoey brainmeats from years of watching anime. I should start reviewing some of these, but I am completely ashamed of some of the ones I get really hooked on. I mean it’s not like any of them are bad, but I tend to pick some based upon the actors involved – and yes I have my favorites…ones that I don’t want to reveal here – but I am sure anyone who reads my blog ever can guess at least one. *cough*

So yes, this is what has been occupying most of my time for the last 3 weeks or so. I have become very anemic of late so this has kept me planted in front of the tube as well. The anemia has nary a thing to do with the TV watching, but the TV watching is a direct symptom of the anemia. No energy = me slothing out.

I think next on my watching agenda will be a period Korean drama (Daebak), if only because the hats that men wore in the Joseon Dynasty are just so damned awesome…and, you know, the men are totally hot.

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Seriously. Made. Of. Win.





Mocked on the Internet Playground

22 10 2016

Pinterest is evil. Not only does it make me shriek my frustrations to the nine netherhells when I Google a thing and get a Pinterest page (I really have no words for how much I loathe this), but they like to ‘read’ what web pages you happen to visit and then ‘surprise’ you with suggestion emails for pins you might like. After signing up at the Spouse’s insistence a couple of weeks ago, I got my first email from them earlier this week. “10 actors pins you might be interested in!” Hmm. I am constantly looking up actors on imdb when I watch TV so this didn’t shock me too terribly much, but I was curious as to who they would have as suggestions. Unsuspecting, I clicked. I immediately blushed and began cursing, calling Pinterest an invasive pile of camel shite. There in that email were 10 pins completely dedicated to Jiro Wang, like an enormous snicker at me for being a wee bit obsessed with one of the songs he sang for a Taiwanese drama I watched. “Ha ha ha! You liiiiiike him! You want to maaaaaaaarry him! Here’s 10 piiiiiiins of him!”

Then? To add insult to injury, I notice I have a new email from them today…a couple actually. One was of funny gifts people have bought and was innocuous but vapid. The other? “10 drama pins you might be interested in!” Now I know I can just choose to not click, I can just send these to the ether, never to view them again…but I am compelled to see what they think I might be interested in. It’s like those lucky egg vending machines…the ones with the clucking, rotating chicken? (what’s not to like about a fake chicken, gyrating and clucking that then drops a surprise egg. there could be anything in there! I know…I have issues) So, boldly I clicked, unable to stop my curiosity. Guess what? I bet you can guess..come on…TRY. Yup. That’s right. 10 more fucking pins of Jiro Wang. Well played Pinterest, you insidious fuck. Well played.

(How happy was I to see you can turn those notifications off)





Cheeseball Roulette

12 10 2016

I love playing PC video games…especially MMORPGs. I don’t mind subbed ones but the free ones, when they are good, are a great waste of time. What I really love is the ones that have those daily prizes. I love looking forward to whatever digital garbage I am going to get because sometimes they give rare awesomeness.

*CLICK* Yay!! I won a free bubble of orc splooge! Huzzah! *CLICK* Awesome!! Two tickets for some PvP gear that I need to PvP a million hours to obtain more so I can get an outdated helm. ROCK ON! At least it was FREEEEEEEE! *CLICK* Oh look!! A love token good towards any pretend internet gaming marriage because I am playing some obscure Asian game that makes marriage a part of leveling! Super! AND FREEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

Yup. It’s like that. Because mentally I am just a 5 year old with a roll of coins standing at a bank of gumball & prize machines, and I really REALLY think I might get that sparkly, velvety, rainbow unicorn sticker if I want it bad enough!

Just one more quarter…

 





Of Cabbages and Things

11 10 2016

When I was wee, just a toddler, my mother’s best friend was a woman from Okinawa. She was married to a former military man (my dad’s best friend) and they happened to live in the same mobile home park as my folks. I was far too young to remember them, but she taught me how to use chopsticks (my little fingers hurt using them the correct way so I improvised my own method that I use to this day) and taught my mother how to make omurice and yakisoba…both foods I then grew up eating. I like to think I came upon my Japanese culture fascination by chance, but something tells me this paved the way. Just as I cannot recall not being able to use a fork, the same goes for chopsticks.

Today I am making a pot of what I call Yakisoba soup. It’s something I devised recently to use up some cabbage & kale I had, without resorting to making the starchy deliciousness that is Yakisoba. It’s basically chopped cabbage (napa or green); chopped kale (whichever kind you have works…I used lacinato last time, am using curly this time); about 1-1/4 cups of diced onion (green, yellow or red); 4 slices of diced, uncured bacon; 1 carton of unsalted beef or chicken stock; one can of reduced sodium beef or chicken broth; fresh grated or powdered ginger (as much as you think you want…careful with the powdered); a little fresh or granulated garlic; a healthy drizzle of Worcestershire sauce; good sized squirt of soy sauce; a shake of toasted sesame oil; one packet of Herb Ox sodium free bouillon powder (chicken or beef depending on which broth/stock you used) and finally a drizzle of agave syrup. I just make it all in my pressure cooker and then end up being the only person who eats it for the next few days, but to me it’s comfort food in a bowl.

So in the wake of my 45th birthday, I raise my sake cup to you mom & Chieko, for instilling in me a lifelong passion (obsession). KANPAI!