Picture of the Day: Ball Python vs. Dining Room Chair

More often than not when I am responsible for Hydra, she has more fun. Tim hates it when I let her do stuff like this, but she loves it. (In this particular instance he was afraid I wasn't going to be able to disentangle her from the chair. It took me less than 5 seconds. She's fairly cooperative if you let her explore for a while.)

Of course, there was the one time I let her loose on the couch, got involved in watching TV, and panicked when I couldn't find her. Turns out she had slithered along the back of the couch and come face-to-face with Azrael, sleeping peacefully in his scratching post/throne. I still shudder to think what would have happened if my vicious killer had woken up and found the cold-blooded nuisance in his face.

What's Heavier? A Pound of Feathers or a Pound of Bricks?

Yeah, I did it.

I gave in to my obsessive compulsive warped self image urges and bought a bathroom scale.

The stupid doctor's scale was 8 pounds heavier than normal the last time I was there, and I have been unable to console myself with the "muscle is denser than fat; therefore increased muscle mass and loss of fat will result in weight gain" argument.

Of course, the minute Tim steps on it he announces, "The scale is off."

"What do you mean it's off?"

"I mean it's off."

"Which way?"

"More."

"It says you weigh more than you do?" I ask excitedly.

"No. I weigh more than it says I do."

"I have a hard time believing that," I pouted.

"Well, the scale at work says different. Unless you think my work boots weigh 9 pounds."

"It must be the scale at work that's off, because I think it's perfectly fine."

"Did you get it at Target?"

"Yes."

"Then it's a piece of crap."

"Whatever."

He may be right, though.

If we go by the Target scale, I lose 3-4 pounds in my sleep every night.

And the Fat Ass Cat weighs 16 pounds.

Hmm.

Maybe the Target scale is not so far off after all.

Can Cats Be Trained?

Oh, can you tell by the title that I am racking my brain for something to post about tonight?

LOL.

Hades and Azrael, though I love them dearly, have very little respect for me.

Tim tells me this is my own fault.

Probably true.

If Azrael whines, I pick him up.

If Hades misbehaves, I don't discipline.

I don't yell. I cuddle. (Umm...still think I should have kids?)

Here's what it gets me:

5AM, Hades sitting on my chest (and by the way, he's not a feather), and Azrael biting my head. Yes, biting my head. (It is his way of saying, 'Hey Mom, I'm hungry. Here's what I'd like to be doing to food in my bowl right now.')

Mind you, Tim is sleeping less than a foot from me. Would they dare attempt this kind of behavior with him? Never. Why? Because when they behave this way, I either:

A. Get up and feed them
B. Get up and kindly escort them out of the room and shut the door until I am ready to get up.

It is more often than not option A, because option B results in Hades scratching at the bottom of the door until I do get up, while his brother sits by his side and eggs him on.

If they attempted this behavior with Tim, the result would be the following:

A. Punting across the room.

6PM, I come home from work and am greeted with yowling and desperate maneuvers toward the kitchen, as though they haven't eaten in days. They do not relent until they are fed.

Again I ask, Do they do this to Tim?

Wouldn't even dream of it.

Tim enters the kitchen, and Azrael and Hades sit on the dividing line between the carpet and the linoleum, on either side of the kitchen entrance, like little kitty gargoyles.

Tim retrieves their bowls.

They sit like statues.

Tim fills their bowls.

They quiver a little, but they don't move.

Tim puts their bowls on the floor, tells them "OK. Good boys!" and they run, like greyhounds released from the starting gate, and slobber all over themselves devouring their dinner.

If they move during this process, one short, loud "Hey!" from Tim freezes them in their tracks.

He tells me it is all about respect.

I wonder what Cesar Millan would say?

By The Way, Did I Mention I Have The Plague?

The weeks between Christmas and New Year's are the traditional vacation weeks for most folks in my company. Usually me, too, but I used all my vacation for the wedding and honeymoon in May, and my days do not roll over until March. Ick.

Anyway, there are a few consolation prizes for those of us forced to work during these two weeks:

Casual dress. (Oh, you have no vacation time, or nowhere to go for the holidays? Please, feel free to wear jeans to the office, that should make you feel better.)
2PM closing time on Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve. (Woo-hoo!)
Company expensed lunches. (Double woo-hoo!)

Last Tuesday I was invited to a company expensed lunch along with 5 others: 2 VPs, 1 manager and 2 data enterers. Note: All 5 married with children. Yes, this is important to the story.

Conversation around the lunch table inevitably turned to how each individual and their family were spending the holidays. One of the VPs, who I feel comfortable joking with, announced that he and his family were going to Sanibel Island. The following conversation ensued:

Me: There's really no need to brag unless you have room for everyone at the table.
VP: There might be a way for you and Tim to get a free room.
Me: Really? How's that?
VP: Babysit my kids.
Me: I'll pass.
VP: Seriously?
Me: Yeah.
VP: Why?
Me: I don't like kids.

4 heads turned to shoot shocked and appalled looks at me. (1 was already looking at me.) Seriously. I may well have said, "By the way, have I mentioned I have the plague?" Or, "I highly enjoy murdering puppies in my spare time."

Jeez. It's not like I looked at each member of the table and said, "I don't like your kids. Your kids are obnoxious and annoying and shouldn't exist."

I was simply stating fact. I have a very low tolerance level for children between the ages of 1 and 8. I adore infants, and I think pre-teens and teenagers are a riot. That doesn't mean that I ignore children, or am mean to children. I have been known to push swings, give gifts, color, play tag and toss softballs. So what if these are not some of my favorite activities? At least I'm honest about it. There are plenty of people out there who don't like kids, and then have them and are bad parents.

Furthermore, I know plenty of people who don't like cats, and I am not at all offended by that. Even though I think it speaks volumes about someone's character if they don't like cats. Very suspicious, not liking cats. Very suspicious indeed.