Caterwauling

I had the utmost pleasure of going to Petsmart and being buried in an avalanche of litter boxes. *sigh* An otherwise good day gone to shit, if you ask me. 😉 And I broke two nails in the explosion-o-plastic and nearly missed a concussion from an errant box of jumbo liners designed for plus-sized cat asses. (I bought those, too, BTW.)

Even though this was my Valentines Day treat for the girls, I hate that litterboxes are so overpriced. I mean, they are containers that are full of shit, and you (er, your puddy tats) supply the shit!

In any event, I had a hard time finding one that had an opening big enough for Maddie’s fat ass, but I ended up with this one, and she loves it already. Thank god, ’cause she poops outside the box so often that I needed to find something that she would WANT to haul her ass INTO.

Leave it to my cat to try to take a nap in the ‘box. I don’t care what she does in it, just as long as she hits it once in awhile:

Oh, and that’s Kadi trying to cramp her style. Kadi never misses a chance to aggravate her big sister!

I was talking to a few other women in the pet store, and one said I was lucky to just have one who shits on the floor because she couldn’t fit in the old litterbox (I’ve had to keep the lid off, and even then she doesn’t always go in. Hurrah). One gal said her cat just shits in the bed. Maddie only wipes her ass on the bed, so apparently I am the more fortunate human!

Oh, and Tidy Cats may start paying me royalties for advertising their product now!

On iTunes: Zero 7, “In the Waiting Line”

I love Virginia because there are dozens of license plate designs and unlimited options for cutesy saying on your plate. I’ve been wanting to get a personalized plate for awhile, but I’m also thinking about whether or not I want to move across state or District lines, so I don’t want to make the investment if in fact I should be fucking insane enough to want to pack my shit and pay people to, like, move it and stuff.

I’ve gotten accustomed to the drive — I’ve found that spacing out and not noticing how fucking NUTS everyone else is makes for a way more pleasant twice-a-day commute. When I do feel like focusing my eyes, I am often entertained by the license plates of the people I almost hit when they cut me off. My favorite is I-H8-495 and its counterpart, I-H8-395 (I travel both of those highways every day — priceless!)

In any event, check out some rejected license plates in the metro area. I decided I want to apply for “SMRT-S” (smartass) because it’s the only thing that will fit on a plate that doesn’t involve “Get off my ass, you psychotic fuck.” And as far as not issuing some plates of questionable taste, I think we should give the plate to anyone who applies for “Asshole” or “Dumbass” or the like because, well, the first step is admitting it. Most people who are Oxygen Thieves tend to fail to realize it, but the rest of us don’t need to see their vanity plate to know that abortion isn’t just a choice — it’s a necessity sometimes.

On iTunes: Arthur Loves Plastic, “Persona Non Grata”