Blessed Blogger

It’s been several days since my last post and for good reason. Things have actually been marjinally exciting lately, though that is in no way an indication of how pleasant it was. My mom is dealing with a rather nasty boss and an impending family reunion, both supremely stressful situations. Being that I’m the best daughter in the world I of course call her daily until she feels better and even buy her presents (of which she knows nothing and I will not divulge any hints about).

Sean and I spent last weekend and a good portion of this week putting up shelves, curtains and decorations. Now our various oddities and collectables are proudly displayed. On Seans side of the office a dragon handled samurai sword (a present from Jamie one Christmas) sits precariously balanced above his chair. I imagine one day there will be an earthqauke and he will recieve a very interesting hair cut. On my side the shelves are full of Barbies and other toys that I’ve collected over the years (such as a Furby and a Sailor Moon action figure) and miraculously did not give away in one of my fits of Santa Clauseske charity. I feel the need to defend my purchase of Barbies, not that you would or should care, but I somehow feel like a sell out being the kind of person I am. The barbies I collect however are not the toy variety given to impressionable little girls causing eating disorders and low self esteem. It is my opinion that no child should play with a Barbie anymore than they should play with a porn magazine as both are highly unrealistic and effect thier impression of feminine beauty and worth. The dolls on my shelf are the collectors editions, purchased for the theme (ie X-Files, Fairytale Princesses, etc) and the intricate artistry of thier costumes. I believe that they are works of art even if thier little bodies are freakishly thin.

We also did a bit of shopping this week as well as a bit of bitching. Our bedroom furniture was supposed to arrive in 2 to 4 weeks. It has now been almost 9 and there is no indication that the wait will be over anytime soon. I’ve called to complain numerous times and got nowhere so yetserday we went in to see the manager. It was then that the saleswoman informed us that he: A. Is never in, and B. Does not know or handle anything delaing with the business. Apparently a creature of God like powers named Martha, who also is never in, is the only person in the entire company who knows anything about anything. In fact, only she is allowed to even LOOK at records, reciepts and delivery notices. When I picture her in my mind I think of the great and powerful OZ. Despite our reciept which says that special orders can not be refunded or canceled we’ve decided they have until the tenth of this coming months to deliver the items or we will ask for our money back. If that fails I will be forced to file suit which I am all to willing to do. Speaking of suit I just finished sending my old landlord yet another letter about returning my security deposit (we’re owed roughly $2600) and they were also informed of our intent to sue. It is so very very fun to be an adult.

The kittens are doing well if well is defined as constant crying and screaming and a refusal to eat anything except roasted chicken breast. I tried five different kinds of cat food, I even tried baby food as my vet suggested, but all they will eat is my chicken. After two solid weeks of no sleep I moved them to the office so that I wouldn’t wake up everytime they wimpered. It seemed like a good idea at the time but since I spend so much time working in here they can see me and try to escape their little fabric prison. They insist on being held and sucking on lips, ear lobes and fingers. While this looks quite adorable it is also slimy and painful as my punctured finger and swollen lip can attest. Thier little nubs have become razor sharp needles that pierce the flesh. I am begining to think they’ve aquired a taste for human flesh and one day I’ll wake up to find them surrounding my bed, licking thier lips as if at a delicious buffet. When they aren’t screaming for food or to be held they sleep but only after much preperation. I must sit and sing lullabies while running my finger rythmically across the netting of the crib. If that does not work I turn my speakers up and play the sound of a cat purring repeatedly. I put my old stuffed animals in the crib and even made them a mobile of dangly ribbons to play with. If I spoil them this badly can you imagine how things will be with a human child?

At the moment they are resting, gently nursing on thier paws or thier siblings ear. They are adorable, sweet, precious. And in half an hour they will be screaming for my food, my lap or my blood. So I must take this time to drink some warm water, shove some stale crackers in my mouth and pray I have enough time to scrub the dishes to make yet another batch of pureed chicken mush before they wake. Pray for my sanity. Good luck and blessings, Prana

Crazy! That’s how I feel today. Off kilter, aswirl in a sea of nonsense and cat fur. My allergies are not so much acting up as throwing a violent tantrum. My best guess is it’s the ten cats I’m currently housing and the fact that I’m allergic to cats. Before anyone says anything (mom I see you typing!) yes I am aware of my own insanity and I choose to live this way regardless. I’m not complaining, I’m just venting. Even I get to vent you know.

The other thing bumming me out is TV. I like TV. When I was a kid TV was pretty much my only friend unless you count George my talking teddy bear inhabited by a ghost but almost no one does so there you go. As friends go TV has generally been loyal to me. Once in a while it doesn’t work or the cable is out or the stupid president interupts my show for some nonsense but otherwise TV and I were on good terms. But lately I’ve felt TV slipping away like a one night stand the morning after. Everytime a new show comes out that I actually like it gets canceled. I am fully aware that 90% of the viewing public is clinically retarded and can only stomache such vapid and talentless shows as “Who wants to marry a gay albino midget” and so called comedies that are really nothing but a half hour of tasteless racial and sexual stereotypes complemented by bodily emissions. But what about the 10% of us who actually think? What about those of us who don’t want to be hand fed the same recycled bullshit, who want to be moved to think and feel and Goddess forbid come to our own conclusions?

And I’m not a snob. I like a wide genre of shows. I like mysteries and crime dramas, I like half hour comedies and hour long horror shows. I like nerdy scifi flicks, real news programs, edgy animated cartoons and I even like a select few reality shows. But it seems to me the only shows that survive are the ones that pander to the lowest common denominator. I imagine these viewers retain thier primordial brow rigde and bash thier dinner against a rock before eating it raw. I am so disgusted with TV I swear I’m going to find a new best friend and I’m taking back my friendship bracelet.

There is no place, in american television, for the thinking man or woman. We are a dying breed. Someday in the future they’ll dig our bones up and speculate on why our craniums are so much bigger than those who came after us and why we are clutching crushed TV remotes in our hands. It is a sad day for brain cells and TV lovers and we wave the white flag at ignorance and trash. You win. Comence the stupification.

Good luck and blessings, Prana

I promised new pictures of the babies and here they are:

Kittens

Thier eyes are open, they can hold thier heads up and they look directly at us. Plus they do this cute roley-yawny-stretchy thing that makes your heart melt. They are learning to play to which is lots of fun for us because we can finally love on them a little. The new pictures are 32 and on. Good luck and blessings, Prana