Wednesday, February 28, 2007
The sad part is, this is really all he can do with PhotoShop...poor Fat Daddy.
TUNA JUICE! I made Fat Daddy buy TUNA JUICE! All I did is act totaly crazy any time he opened a can of well, anything. Today Fat Daddy came home from the Grocery Store with 'cans' of tuna not those stupid, dry 'pouches.' So I got all the TUNA JUICE I could gargle. I did't see him eat the tuna so I guess he bought it all for me.
I'm such a smart Kitty! And SO pretty, pretty, pretty. Fat Daddy built a pedestal covered in my favorite pillows in the Living Room window behind the sofa. Some days I only leave my perch to eat and poop. Sort of like Fat Daddy, come to think of it.
Oh well, time for four more hours of sleep!
Stinkerella Fifi Louise Hogan
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
I know, in snow deprived regions this is "pretty," but after 15 years here in the Arctic Circle it's much prettier when it happens in Colorado. Sorry I haven't blogged (don't you just love conjugating words that weren't words less than 10 years ago?) but I've had an awful headache for a few days that I was sure was going to kill me dead. Anything that hurts that hard and long must be terminal, right? So rather than see the Doctor, I just decided to get my Living Will and Hospital Directives together. My estate isn't worth the expense of a probate attorney just now. My Life Insurance Beneficiary is clearly designated. My little sister, Rachel, will have quite a payday if and when I croak and I get one Hell of a Memorial Service. I've already made it clear that when it is planned, they need to pencil in 20 minutes for me in case I feel the Service is dragging.
Seriously, I don't think my headache will kill me. It is odd, however, that my family in general believes that I see too many doctors and that I see the ones I see too often. However (I was headed toward "however" in the last sentence I just didn't get there...) when I talk to them about seeing my Psychologist or Psychiatrist they yell at me for going BUT when I talk to them about ignoring chest pain for three days, they yell at me for NOT going to the doctor. A disdain of Psychiatry that would do L. Ron Hubbard proud.
Q: If Isaac Asimov or Ray Bradbury started a "religion" would you join it? How 'bout if they claimed to be part of a Master Race from Venus? Just Asking.
The Answers to 80's Music Lyric Challenge 2007:
1. In the jungle of the senses, Tinkerbell and Jack the Ripper... NEMESIS by SHREIKBACK
2. There's a weapon that we can use in our defense, Silence. OUR LIPS ARE SEALED by GOGOs
3. Whatever we deny or embrace for worse or for better... WE BELONG TO THE NIGHT by PAT BENATAR
4. We're in the basement. Learning to print. All of it's hot! LEGAL TENDER by b52s
5. I've got a rocket in my pocket and I don't know what to do...? DON"T YOU KNOW by DEVO
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Or as I like to think of it "Another Pitiful Attempt To Get People To Participate In My Blog." I know you're out there, my pages get hits most every day from Rome to Beijing and all points between. Apparently you're all terribly shy or just lousy typists? Here's a chance to show yourselves while remaining totally ANONYMOUS...cool, huh?
Here we go. I'll put some song lyrics from a variety of 80's bands/songs and the CHALLENGE is for YOU to name the song AND performer(s)! 'kay?
1. In the jungle of the senses, Tinkerbell and Jack the Ripper...
2. There's a weapon that we can use in our defense, Silence.
3. Whatever we deny or embrace for worse or for better...
4. We're in the basement. Learning to print. All of it's hot!
5. I've got a rocket in my pocket and I don't know what to do...?
Okay, the Challenge is on. How many can you name? Use the Internet all you want, folks. I'm not sure it'll help!
Monday, February 19, 2007
Thursday, February 15, 2007
There was a time, not so very long ago, when the caveman homophobic views of a sports figure who has spent his life showering with other naked sports figures would have filled me with indignant rage and made me question the roots of his homophobic stance as being typical. While I dissected his denials as overt signs of questioning that which bubbled beneath the certainty of his proud, heterosexual identity.
And what an arrogant FAG I'd be to impose my scarcely scholarly presumptions about his inner drives from a few bombastic and ill considered comments. I'm ALMOST sure he's really straight - so he would argue at least. Though it has been my experience that we truly fear the things we can't help but become. Our parents for instance. We resist them even as we become the parts of them we hate. How similar for the homophobic. "Me thinks (he) she doth protest to much."
But who am I? Only someone comfortable with the hand I've been dealt by God/Nature.
So much hate. So difficult the fight. So frightened the combatant.
I force eye contact on the people I deal with here in the Midwest.
Though I know they'd prefer my glance went elsewhere.
Being careful to avoid their private "dirty bits."
And I have the disconcerting habit of winking at the end of sentences, merely facial punctuation.
Already that has been interpreted as a "come on" from a horrible little psycho we called "Goose Girl,"
That, for her unsolicited daily briefs on the health and well being of the geese in her neighborhood,
In her neighborhood. There in her neighborhood,
And the Goose Girl is a person in your neighborhood.
She's the people that you meet, when you're walking down the street.
Creepy people that you meet each day.
For As Long As I'm Able I will care for you.
Was my caveat clear, cloudless blue?
Can I ever again feel noble, true?
Having given much, I thought I was through.
"For as long as I'm able, I will care for you."
Look at me, I'm unable. Who said that? You.
I've been "paying it forward" so I might be due,
Just a pass for this one time. I still love you.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Well, I've heard Valentine's Day referred to as "Single Awareness Day" for thoe of us who are sans Boyfriends or Girlfriends this February 14th.
For the record, my Valentine weighs 10 lbs., walks on 4 legs and is covered with hair. Sadly, I've done worse...
Monday, February 12, 2007
'kay. If Canada is "America Lite" then Australia is "America Lite + Caffeine Free Great Britain." So how does the Autralian Prime Minister get off taking pot shots at one of our political parties (Da Democrats) and one of its candidates (Barack Obama)?
Everyone is entitled their own opinion and I am the firmest of believers in FREE SPEECH but for some reason I don't extend the freedom of speech unconditionally to our South Pacific ally. I mean is there even one candidate for President of the U.S. that could name the Australian P.M.'s opposition party, let alone the name of a single opponent? Don't get me wrong, I have great respect for a democracy formed by prisoners and prostitutes but what was he thinking?
Remind me to HAVE an opinion about Autralian politics because I WILL forget.
Kisses Mr. Howard.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Oh what fun! In only four days I nearly have Fat Daddy completely trained! Today I got fresh kibble AND water at 4 AM just by "meowing" like I was crazy while I licked his ear. I can make him crawl on the floor, sleep pinned down and motionless and search for me just by running off and silently hiding. All of that and he plays fetch anytime I bring him a foam dart to throw.
But I musn't be unkind, Fat Daddy has REALLY ballooned since I stayed here last and he makes the greatest thing to sleep on. I can sit on his lap, belly, man-boobies or shoulder and they're all soft and hairy. It's like when I was a kitten with squinty closed kitten eyes and I nuzzled my big fat Momma Cat for warmth.
Oh well. Time to bite bits of kibble in half and spit them on the kitchen floor so he has to sweep them up! I love being me.
Stinkerella Fifi Louise Hogan
First, let me assure you that I haven't given in to this particular urge BUT today I want a cigarette SO BADLY that I cannot easily explain it. I quit smoking with my second heart attack last May. Okay, I should have quit with the first one but I thought maybe my body was just kidding. This morning, however, my first cup of coffee seemed lonely, like it was asking me where the cigarette was...
Donde esta mi LUNG COOKEE?
Okay, I feel a little better now...
Friday, February 09, 2007
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Today Fat Daddy and Skinny Daddy put me in my crate and moved me to Fat Daddy's house. I like it there. Fat Daddy is warm and soft to sleep on like a big smelly sofa. I would write more but I'm only awake for four hours every day and I have a lot of things to do in a short period of time.
I think I'll stare in a corner for no reason to make fat Daddy get up and look. I love that one!
Stinkerella Fifi Louise Hogan
Monday, February 05, 2007
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Why is the state of Florida so often the target of destructive winds? We can accept as a "given" that God Hates so called "mobile homes" and "trailers." Who knows why? Mysterious Ways and all... It's empirically obvious because he hurls or at least "allows to be hurled at" mobile homes the strongetst winds in Nature's Deadly Arsenal: Hurricanes and Tornadoes. Regardless of the state in which they are located, trailer parks are frequently smitten or smited, whichever.
I have a theory about this perceived "hatred" God reserves for trailers. Christ told a parable about two houses: one built on sand, the other on bedrock. Two houses. Sand or Bedrock. Not Three Houses. Sand, Bedrock and Chassy. The Lord God doen't have a Trailer park in Heaven. He spoke not of the "double-wide" So I think God's tendency to smite the "Sunshine State" is the prevalence of mobile home communities.
Either that, or there are too many fags.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Monday Evening in a mood that was equal parts stupidity and boredom I threw myself a Pity Party with an open bar. I drugged, drank and had a fall on my head on a marble floor. For two days Doctor's tried to figure out why I couldn't speak in complete sentences or remember answers to simple questions.Oddly, I knew answers to Hard Questions.
Spinal Tap showed blood, CAT scan and MRI were clear and my language skills returned.
I am a Fool to have thought in my arrogance that I could "handle" things Monday. I can't.
I'm an Addict and I cannot outsmart that central fact in my life.
Shame tastes like blood in your mouth, like biting iron.