October 2005

You are a Gender Nazi. Your boundary-crossing
lifestyle inspires awe in your friends and
colleagues. Or maybe they’re just scared you
will kick their asses for using gender-specific
language. Either way, the wife-beater helps.

What kind of postmodernist are you!?
brought to you by Quizilla

See? The non-shaved leg thing can be GOOD..

We celebrated our wedding on June 18th, even though we had been married a few months before (in a very quick ceremony featuring Jo and her sister Am and a minister, all in a tiny office). For the party, I shaved my legs and my armpits – the dress was strapless, so tufts of hair would have ruined some appetites otherwise. I mean, I think it’s okay for people to hold onto their delusions that I’m all girly sometimes.

It is now almost November. I have not shaved my legs since the wedding party.

I am afraid that one of these days Coffee and I will be boinking and he’ll get permanently trapped in my leg hair.

But I am not afraid enough to shave my legs. No, no, now I’m onto “morbid curiosity stage”.

As found on Jan’s LJ (not linked because I don’t know how well-publicized it is!)

You Are 15 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view – and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what’s to come… love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You’ve had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You’ve been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

I love my hamster.

I realize that’s the opening line to a lot of really bad jokes about hamsters and Richard Gere, so STOP LAUGHING.

Weetabix is the most fabulous creature to ever live in captivity. He’s a dwarf Russian winter white – which means he’s grey, heh – and he attacks anything that comes near him, including fingers and hands and large carrots. I have to warn people who come to visit that they can’t put their hand into his cage. People always disregard that. He bites pretty hard when given the chance. It’s his personality that makes me love him – I mean, he seriously has a personality. People think I’m on crack when I say that, too.

I like to sneak up on him when his back is turned and pet his fuzzy body until he realizes it’s happening and whirls around to kill me. I also enjoy talking to him – he stands on his hind feet, paws up in the air, and sniffs my breath.

Maybe it’s that I didn’t own small animals as a kid. I had two gerbils who became a billion, and who were wiped out by my cocker spaniel when he realized he could nudge the little plastic tunnel off of the cage and the babies would run into his mouth like willing snacks. Suicidal. My parents made me give the cage and gerbils away, eventually. I’ve always had dogs and cats, though. Guinea pigs and rabbits. Nothing smaller, except my guppies and goldfish.

So when I met Weetie, and saw his tiny little paws and his white patchy belly? Love. Total love.

At least ten times every day, I announce, “My GOD I love my hamster!” or “Have I mentioned how much I adore that little guy?” or “Weetie makes me SO HAPPY!”. I love to dump hand-fulls of seed into his cup (quickly, before he can maul my hand) and give him carrots and sprouts and lettuce leaves. He also really loves dog biscuits, and will wrap his entire body around them while eating.

I am, of course, not positive that Weetie is a boy, since the pet store people aren’t exactly professionals at sexing hamsters. (They’re sixteen year old girls, for god’s sake. They also told me he “didn’t really need a wheel to run on” which is the worst lie I’ve heard in a pet store to date) I spend a lot of time demanding that Weetie, “SHOW ME [HIS] WANG!” which he refuses to comply with. I know, I know, he’s a hamster and his wang is pretty much invisible, but I feel bad calling him a ‘him’ if he’s really a ‘her’, y’know?

Here’s my favourite picture of Weet. It’s overexposed and blurry, but who cares! It’s THE WEET!

Yes, he’s sitting on a box that originally contained a rolodex – I cut a hole in the side so he could use it for a ‘house’. He has also lived in empty Luna Bar boxes, OXO Broth boxes and currently he’s using a box that someone sent me a small ornament in. He’s the King of Improvisational Housing, and he’s proud of it.

Tonight we watched “Suburbia” – rented from Zip (have I pimped enough for them, yet? have I?). I added it to our Zip list because it was noted as being a “cult classic” from the “mid-eighties” and, my god, it fulfilled all of the basic criteria for both. The acting was shit, the plot was predictable, the blood stains were possibly authentic, and I laughed in places that were both appropriate and, um, not. The opening scene, with the child being mauled by feral dogs? Worth the price of admission, totally. (I mean, come ON.)

All told, it was a lovely representation of the punk scene in the 80s – complete with spray paint, moshing and the expected drug ODs. It was worth watching, but not if you’re going to be all serious and analytical about it. :) I always find it hard to give anyone a movie recommendation because I feel like I should add in, “..but only if you’d also laugh at X or only if you’re gonna’ watch it drunk, or.. only if you’ve never seen Y movie..” so, uh, just remember that it’s from the mid-eighties and the plot is shit and the acting is crap and you have to look beyond that.

Okay? Good.

“You know what you just did is the grossest thing you’ve ever done, right?”

“You only think that because you’ve never dated me.”

- from “Why Girls are Weird”, by Pamela Ribon

Do not ever purchase the Nigella Lawson cookbook “Feast”. Danger Will Robinson! DANGER!

Can only fit 7 Reese’s peanut butter cups in mouth if mouth is to close. 8 will fit, otherwise.
Photos to come, maybe.

Headache from eating too many Hallowe’en ‘snack size’ chocolate bars is probably not going to get better with addition of more chocolate to belly.

… even if the kids won’t remember it the next morning. Heh.

My husband sends THE BEST LINKS. And most of them aren’t porn!

If F0x news had been around throughout history.