Archive for August, 2008


President vs Jack

August 28, 2008

So I figured I should listen to our next president give his acceptance speech. I have no cable*, so TV wasn’t really an option. I turned on the radio, and sure enough, it was on several channels. My options:

1. Obama talking and sounding like he’s on a cell phone in a car
2. Obama talking over himself with a 30 second delay
3. Obama talking over some Mexican polkas**
4. Obama talking awesome

Obviously I picked #4. I am full of civic pride.

However, my cat is also jumping in and out of a paper bag and being extremely cute. It’s a nice mix, the president and the Jack.

*Not because I am pretentious, because I can’t afford it.
** I almost chose this one, as it was really funny. But too distracting.


Vicious Hunter Kitty!

August 27, 2008

Vicious Hunter Kitty!, originally uploaded by maceelaine.

Behold! My cat, who I worried was never going to be able to jump properly, fulfulled his kitty duties and caught me a mouse. He brought it out here after playing with it in the bathroom, evidently, as there were smears of blood all over the floor, which sent me in a near panic this morning. Not knowing of my living room gift, I frantically searched myself and the cat for injuries. Then I came out to look for more blood, and there it was, laying next to the couch.

One less dick mouse. Yes!

I love my cat. I mean, look at him




Two Mice, Two Days

August 22, 2008

Dead Mouse in Beer Bottle, originally uploaded by maceelaine.

I’ve already told the swimming mouse story, but I’ll tell it again, now that I have all the details.

Last Sunday, Trevor volunteered for a DIY film-making seminar which required him to be downtown at eight am. Being the sweet girlfriend that I am, I volunteered to drive him there, but I slept as he got ready, trying to grab more precious sleep moments*. In his half-awake haze, he dumped the entire contents of the french press in the garbage (I fail at training him not to put food in the trash. I’m trying, I swear). He also ate the rest of our Schezuan eggplant and tossed the empty container in, which still contained some sauce (fail two). I drove him to 111 Minna and came home.**

After a while, I heard the telltale shuffling. I was torn between hoping it was a ghost mouse and hoping it was a real, live dick mouse. I pulled open the trash, hoping to catch it in the bag, when I realized it was treading water. Or rather, treading coffee and eggplant sauce. It crawled up on the eggplant container and huddled there. It was so tiny, and so wet. Jack was circling around my legs so I picked him up and pointed. “See that? If you see one anywhere else, you attack!” He showed no interest, until the mouse moved, and then I could feel every muscle in his body tense up.

I pulled the bag out of the holder, tied it up, and threw it in the outside bin. Sorry tiny wet mouse, hope you find drier happier lands.

The very next evening, I was pulling some recycling out of the bin to take to outside, and a beer bottle caught my eye. I thought some paper or something had fallen in, but NO. It was another tiny wet mouse, but this time it was dead. I’m pretty sure I made some horrible noises and left it on the counter. Not knowing what else to do, I washed my hands five times, got my laptop, and played Boggle for an hour.

Eventually I got up the courage to take some pictures and take it outside, even though i really didn’t want to touch it. I realized, much later, laying in bed, that I had put it in the recycling. I looked for it later, but as it was no longer conveniently on top, I just let it go. Which, evidently could get me in trouble. Please don’t rat me out. (GET IT?)

So now the house is nice and mouse-free (I think), except for Jack’s toy mice, which he adores and carries around a good amount of the time. I can’t wait to see what happens when he finds a live one.

*Jack gets a little excited when we’re asleep. He either wants to give us love on our faces, or run back and forth as fast as he can. I miss sleeping. Seriously.
** I had three things I wanted to do that day, of which I did none, as the weather was dark and rainy, and everything was outside. I instead watched cartoons and napped with the cat.


Ah, The Fair

August 17, 2008

Goal #1, originally uploaded by maceelaine.

I get a random email from my mother last Friday, with no body, just the subject line: Weird Al is playing the San Mateo County Fair tonight! I had already been thinking I hadn’t hit a fair in years, and this was the icing on the cake.

Well, icing we were not to touch. Since he was performing inside, there was a limited amount of seats, so we couldn’t get in. So we had to formulate a new plan. And thus I came up with my three goals:
1. Eat a giant corndog (see above).
2. See some bunnies (see update below).
3. Milk a goat (boo).

I accomplished two. There were no goats to be milked, much to my disappointment. But one thing lightened my spirits: Pig Races! I had never seen such a thing. The small ones run remarkably fast. This one, probably not so much:

Pig with bucketbutt

Pig with bucketbutt

I’m so glad there aren’t fair corndogs available to me at any time, or I would probably look that.

And look! I even won an award:

Best Mace?

Best Mace?

UPDATE: I forgot, I did see some bunnies. Most didn’t come out, as it was the weird time between sunset and dark enough to turn on the floodlights. So most of the bunnies look like dark blurs. EXCEPT for emo bunny.

Emo Bunny hates you.

Emo Bunny hates you.


A week with Jack

August 17, 2008

Jack is a sweet kitten, whose only goal in life, if seems, is to give love. In many different ways: cuddling with you, purring louder than a motorcycle, and kissing. At this point, my chin is actually feeling a little dried out, from the amount of licking it has taken. This is both a good and bad thing, as it’s very nice to know that my cat loves me, but is a little difficult to handle at two in the morning.

And here’s the rub. He adores me (and Trevor) so much that he wants to be with us at every hour. And he doesn’t seem to realize that us humans like seven plus hours of sleep a night. He wants to play at three in the morning, so in his brain, WE want to do the same. I’ll say for the record that this is untrue. So it wasn’t until Thursday night that either he calmed down, or I was so exhausted that I just slept through his bedtime shenanigans.

Last night, he decided that Trevor was his favorite and harassed him all night. We’re doing what we can to let Jack know that we love him but also let him know that nighttime is ‘entertain yourself’ time. I’m writing this off right now as a mixture of kittenish energy and excitement of a new home. He is only five months old. He has only been here a week.

On the mouse front: I finally broke down and called my landlord, and he sent his son over to bait under the house. I’m not sure if that got done, but it’s been very quiet in the kitchen. Except that sometimes I hear noises and I run in to see if I can see a mouse, and it’s just the water heater turning on, or a bag falling over. I refer to these as ghost mice. They’re not quite dicks.

EXCEPT that they’re not all ghosts. Last night Trevor and I had Chinese, and when he got up at whatever godly hour he woke up (volunteering here:, he finished off the schezuan eggplant and
dumped the rest in the trash. I have a usual policy of no food in the trash, because of the mice, but I’d been a bit more lax about it lately, what with the mice seemingly gone. Later this morning, I heard the tell-tale shuffling sounds of a mouse, and open my trash to see it struggling to stay afloat in about an inch of liquid. It looked so pitiful. I did my normal routine, and just took it and the whole trash bag out to the outside garbage and hoped for the best (or worst, as the case may be). And left Trevor a slightly nasty voice mail about his garbage habits. Really: who wants an inch of liquid at the bottom of a garbage can for more than a week? And yes, I’m so good about recycling and composting that it takes me about two or three weeks to fill a garbage bag.

Excuse me, I’m going to play with my cat and feel superior.



August 14, 2008

Dear readers, please help me prove that I am not insane. I’m running on 4.5 hours of sleep (significantly less than what I need), due to an overenthusiastic kitten who is so very excited that he lives with me. He hasn’t learned at 3:00 am is not the proper time to let me know how much he loves me. It’s hard to stay too mad afterwards, though, as he is impossibly cute, and who doesn’t like affection?

My point: I recall, years (and years) ago, staring at the back cover of a Simon and Garfunkel album. It was the two of them displaying different emotions. I’m pretty sure three of them were pretty banal: happy, sad, etc. The fourth was Garfunelnurkey, and they were making faces. It became a term of mockery/affection in my family for years.  I can find no trace of this on the world wide web, and am beginning to question my memory of this. I have no idea if I’m spelling it right. I have no idea which album it is, though I suspect it may be Bookends. For some reason (possibly exhaustion), this is really bothering me right now. Gah.


A new goal in life:

August 11, 2008

Make enough money to have the dollars and space for an ice cream maker.