Have you seen this commercial? Does it make you as crazy as it makes me? Do you want to grab the nearest item and hurl it at the TV each and every time it comes on?
I see this commercial EVERY night. Yes, you read that correctly. EVERY.STINKING.NIGHT. Mr. Twench and I watch the same television show every night, and each night without fail, between 6:30 and 6:45 the Sham Wow guy appears. I'm not alone in my disdain Mr. Twench usually lets out a large groan before I do. On rare occasions he's late and appears after 6:45. On these evenings at 6:46 we glance at one another almost afraid to say it. Could it be? Is it possible he has finally stopped purchasing air time? Could we be that lucky? He usually appears before we have a chance to do a victory dance around the living room. He's like a bad penny this guy, he just keeps showing up.
Here's the thing. I actually am intrigued by the product. Yes, I'm hanging my head in shame. If the product does what they claim it does, and I realize it's a far reach, it would be a great item to have around the house. Sadly, I will never find out if the product does what they say because there is no way in hell I will evah buy one. I refuse to by a product that is hawked by the idiot on the commercial.
First of all, please explain to me why he has that stupid headset on. Is he personally taking all the calls that come in to order the product? Is he so important that he can't be away from a phone for the 90 seconds that he is filming the commercial? Or is the headset some sort of microphone? Perhaps he is unaware that he doesn't have to yell at me. My television is equipped with volume control, and unlike Mr. Twench, I actually know how to use the remote control thank you very much!
The next problem is his voice. I don't know about you, but as soon as he starts talking the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I can't quite put my finger on why that is. I'll have to watch the commercial another 232 times to see if I can determine exactly what the problem is.
One of the things that bugs me the most is his used car salesman attitude. If in fact this product does all that he says it does, why does he have to push so hard? If the product is that great, word of mouth will see to it that sales rise rapidly. Every time he starts in all I can think of are those commercials of yesteryear. It slices, it dices, it chops! Guess what? I got sucked into that one many years ago and you know what? It does not slice, it does not dice, it does not chop. It mashes anything and everything to unrecognizable paste and is impossible to clean.
Last night at approximately 6:39 when, once again, the commercial appeared, we both let out the obligatory groan, looked at the clock, and said "yep, he's right on time!" As we sat there, listening to the spiel for the millionth, time I realized something. Every night,every.single.night he says the same thing. "We can't make this offer every day so call now"
THUD
Ummmmmmmm clearly that's a lie. He DOES make the offer every day and has done so for the past 6 friggin months! I admit, with great shame, that the first few times he said it I did feel a small sense of urgency. Those first few times, annoying voice aside, I actually considered purchasing the Sham Wow, and well, if I was going to purchase it anyway I wanted to get in on the great two for one deal. And clearly THAT was not an offer that could be made everyday! Liah, liah pance on fire!
I could do a few things to avoid this commerical in the future. I could find a new show to watch at 6pm, I could invest in Tivo and fast forward him into oblivion, or I could use those 90 seconds to freshen my drink or to go check on dinnah. I will do none of the above. Why you ask? I refuse to let this guy intimidate me into altering my schedule. I will continue to sit through these 90 seconds of hell each night knowing, that one day, the people of America will band together and their voices will be heard. We will let it be known that we've had enough and we are ready for change and idiot boy will no longer purchase air time. He will fade into oblivion with the rest of the infomercial floks.
It can happen! Oh yes it can.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
We have too much
stuff. As a nation we have too much stuff and it would seem we have no place to put it.
I was driving down the road yesterday on my way to visit some friends. It's a road that I don't travel often and I noticed a big sign for a storage facility. It would have been hard to miss this sight seeing as it was 200 feet high with flashing neon. I suppose in some places a sign like that wouldn't stand out, but on a long country road it's pretty hard to miss.
I started thinking about all of the self-storage places that I see. When I started counting in mah head I realized that I know of probably 6 or 7. The one that I just saw yesterday is located in the town next to me which has about as many residents as my town. 6000ish. So I started thinking about it. Who the hell rents all of these places and what the heck are they putting in there?
Most floks live someplace, a house, an apartment or a condo. So my question then becomes, if you live someplace, why aren't you keeping your stuff where you live? The obvious answer, at least to me, is that you don't have enough room where you live to store all of your stuff. Yanno what? If you don't have room where you live for all of your stuff then you just have way to much stuff!
I understand the need to have some storage places. Perhaps you're moving and you need one for the short term. Maybe some relatives have passed away and you had to clean out their home. You might decide to take all the stuff and put it in storage until you decide what to do with it. That would account for maybe one storage place for thousands of people. It seems to me that storage places have become the new Dunkin Donuts. There's one on every corner.
I imagine that someone will say "it's stuff I'm not using but I might" Pfffftttt. I would lay down a fiver that people have stuff in storage facilities that hasn't seen the light of day for months. It's not like running to the basement or the garage to drag out the bread machine for Sunday dinner. You're not going to get in your car, see the attendant, get the key and then wade through boxes to dig out the bread machine. So why the hell are you keeping it, and why on earth would PAY to keep it?
I'm not a minimalist by any means. I like stuff and I have stuff but for the most part, I use the stuff I have. When I no longer use it then it's time to get rid of it. I rarely, if evah, form emotional attachments to stuff. I have no problem going through things periodically and getting rid of the things that I no longer find useful.
Mr. Twench and I don't share the same view in this matter. Mr. Twench would happily keep every piece of stuff he evah owned. Because, well, he might use it one day. We've had to lay down a few rules to avoid having to much stuff. We have a full sized basement and a double garage. Guess what? If the stuff you want doesn't fit nicely in one of those places then you need to get rid of something to make room.
You know that nice new chain saw Mr. Twench just purchased? It was purchased because the old chain saw just doesn't work well anymore. If you're lucky enough to get it started, the chances are that half way through your mission, the chain will fall off rendering it useless. I'm the kind of person who would come home with the new chain saw and immediately throw out the old one. I see no point in keeping stuff that doesn't work. Guess where the old chain saw is?
Yes, you guessed correctly it's in the garage. Why? Simple! One day Mr. Twench may tinker with it and make it work again. Or maybe in year or two the new chainsaw will break down and he'll get the broken part off of the old chainsaw. Or maybe.......................... yeah, you get the idea.
I've decided I'm going to dress up as a character in the Texas Chainsaw murders for Halloween. The best part of my costume will be the old chainsaw. I suspect that I may accidentally leave my prop at the party we attend.
It's either that or we'll have to rent a storage facility for it.
I was driving down the road yesterday on my way to visit some friends. It's a road that I don't travel often and I noticed a big sign for a storage facility. It would have been hard to miss this sight seeing as it was 200 feet high with flashing neon. I suppose in some places a sign like that wouldn't stand out, but on a long country road it's pretty hard to miss.
I started thinking about all of the self-storage places that I see. When I started counting in mah head I realized that I know of probably 6 or 7. The one that I just saw yesterday is located in the town next to me which has about as many residents as my town. 6000ish. So I started thinking about it. Who the hell rents all of these places and what the heck are they putting in there?
Most floks live someplace, a house, an apartment or a condo. So my question then becomes, if you live someplace, why aren't you keeping your stuff where you live? The obvious answer, at least to me, is that you don't have enough room where you live to store all of your stuff. Yanno what? If you don't have room where you live for all of your stuff then you just have way to much stuff!
I understand the need to have some storage places. Perhaps you're moving and you need one for the short term. Maybe some relatives have passed away and you had to clean out their home. You might decide to take all the stuff and put it in storage until you decide what to do with it. That would account for maybe one storage place for thousands of people. It seems to me that storage places have become the new Dunkin Donuts. There's one on every corner.
I imagine that someone will say "it's stuff I'm not using but I might" Pfffftttt. I would lay down a fiver that people have stuff in storage facilities that hasn't seen the light of day for months. It's not like running to the basement or the garage to drag out the bread machine for Sunday dinner. You're not going to get in your car, see the attendant, get the key and then wade through boxes to dig out the bread machine. So why the hell are you keeping it, and why on earth would PAY to keep it?
I'm not a minimalist by any means. I like stuff and I have stuff but for the most part, I use the stuff I have. When I no longer use it then it's time to get rid of it. I rarely, if evah, form emotional attachments to stuff. I have no problem going through things periodically and getting rid of the things that I no longer find useful.
Mr. Twench and I don't share the same view in this matter. Mr. Twench would happily keep every piece of stuff he evah owned. Because, well, he might use it one day. We've had to lay down a few rules to avoid having to much stuff. We have a full sized basement and a double garage. Guess what? If the stuff you want doesn't fit nicely in one of those places then you need to get rid of something to make room.
You know that nice new chain saw Mr. Twench just purchased? It was purchased because the old chain saw just doesn't work well anymore. If you're lucky enough to get it started, the chances are that half way through your mission, the chain will fall off rendering it useless. I'm the kind of person who would come home with the new chain saw and immediately throw out the old one. I see no point in keeping stuff that doesn't work. Guess where the old chain saw is?
Yes, you guessed correctly it's in the garage. Why? Simple! One day Mr. Twench may tinker with it and make it work again. Or maybe in year or two the new chainsaw will break down and he'll get the broken part off of the old chainsaw. Or maybe.......................... yeah, you get the idea.
I've decided I'm going to dress up as a character in the Texas Chainsaw murders for Halloween. The best part of my costume will be the old chainsaw. I suspect that I may accidentally leave my prop at the party we attend.
It's either that or we'll have to rent a storage facility for it.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Men shop too
I had occasion to visit Home Depot with Mr. Twench the othah day. I don't particularly care for visits to Home Depot. It takes far too long to stroll up and down all those aisles ooohhhhing and aahhhing. I have come to the conclusion that Home Depot is to Mr. Twench what the Nine West Shoe Outlet is to me. Heaven. He gets an extra little bounce in his step just walking through the door. Me, I cringe because I know that even if we're there to purchase a battery it's going to take some time. One doesn't visit Home Depot without perusing ALL the aisles. It simply isn't done. At least not in my honey's world.
We were actually there to purchase a new chain saw. Which, apparently, is not a purchase to be taken lightly people! There's gas or electric, there are 14" to 21" and different chains and.....well, you get the picture. It is not a stock item one simply grabs off the shelf. There are serious decisions to be made and many things to consider. Who knew! To be truthful I went to make sure that he actually did purchase a new one. I refuse to go through anuthah wintah listening to him be aggravated because the chain saw won't start. He's a man, he likes tools, we heat with wood often. He needs the proper equipment! After all this time together I know the man. He would have come home proclaiming "I'm going to look on line at Loew's too and then I'll decide" Then it would have resulted in yet anuthah trip to Home Depot to actually purchase one. I decided to cut out that step.
Now don't get me wrong I'm really not poking fun at him. I just know how his mind works. The fact of the matter is I completely understand it. I'm the same way with shoes. It can take a couple of outings to various shoe stores to find just the right pair of black boots and in the end I'll probably end up purchasing the first pair I saw. Mr. Twench and I are soul mates that way.
Once he finally decided on a chain saw, which by the way is an hour of my life I'll nevah get back, it was time to hit the lighting department. Mem, aka Mr. Twench's muthah, was in need of some new fluorescent light delios. We were there visiting and we took out the ones that were burnt out so we could replace them. We had one in the car to make sure we purchased the correct replacement but of course in all of the chain saw excitement we forgot to bring it in. I will say this about Home Depot, there is no shortage of choices! They have every length of bulb, every wattage, and 3 brands. Lordy the choices! As we stood in front of the display trying to remembah exactly what length to get Mr. Twench grabbed one proclaiming "this is it". No honey, that's too long! "nuh uh, this is the one, I looked at it this morning before we came in"
We hemmed and hawed and finally decided we'd get the one he chose and check it when we got back to the car. Worst case scenario it would be wrong and we could just go right back in. Yep, you guessed it. We had to go back in because we got one that was too long. Luckily for us Home Depot has a pretty speedy return desk. Once we retrieved the correct one, yes we brought the old one in this time, it was back to check out land for us.
Seeing as we had just been through the check out line 10 minutes before the woman remembered us and gave us the little raised eye brow. "oh, did you forget something?" My response "no, we got the wrong light bulb, it was too long, men always over estimate length" With those cement walls and high ceilings laughter really echoes in there.
Now I have to go gas up the car in case we need a quick trip to the ER. Mr. Twench is going to play with his new toy today.
We were actually there to purchase a new chain saw. Which, apparently, is not a purchase to be taken lightly people! There's gas or electric, there are 14" to 21" and different chains and.....well, you get the picture. It is not a stock item one simply grabs off the shelf. There are serious decisions to be made and many things to consider. Who knew! To be truthful I went to make sure that he actually did purchase a new one. I refuse to go through anuthah wintah listening to him be aggravated because the chain saw won't start. He's a man, he likes tools, we heat with wood often. He needs the proper equipment! After all this time together I know the man. He would have come home proclaiming "I'm going to look on line at Loew's too and then I'll decide" Then it would have resulted in yet anuthah trip to Home Depot to actually purchase one. I decided to cut out that step.
Now don't get me wrong I'm really not poking fun at him. I just know how his mind works. The fact of the matter is I completely understand it. I'm the same way with shoes. It can take a couple of outings to various shoe stores to find just the right pair of black boots and in the end I'll probably end up purchasing the first pair I saw. Mr. Twench and I are soul mates that way.
Once he finally decided on a chain saw, which by the way is an hour of my life I'll nevah get back, it was time to hit the lighting department. Mem, aka Mr. Twench's muthah, was in need of some new fluorescent light delios. We were there visiting and we took out the ones that were burnt out so we could replace them. We had one in the car to make sure we purchased the correct replacement but of course in all of the chain saw excitement we forgot to bring it in. I will say this about Home Depot, there is no shortage of choices! They have every length of bulb, every wattage, and 3 brands. Lordy the choices! As we stood in front of the display trying to remembah exactly what length to get Mr. Twench grabbed one proclaiming "this is it". No honey, that's too long! "nuh uh, this is the one, I looked at it this morning before we came in"
We hemmed and hawed and finally decided we'd get the one he chose and check it when we got back to the car. Worst case scenario it would be wrong and we could just go right back in. Yep, you guessed it. We had to go back in because we got one that was too long. Luckily for us Home Depot has a pretty speedy return desk. Once we retrieved the correct one, yes we brought the old one in this time, it was back to check out land for us.
Seeing as we had just been through the check out line 10 minutes before the woman remembered us and gave us the little raised eye brow. "oh, did you forget something?" My response "no, we got the wrong light bulb, it was too long, men always over estimate length" With those cement walls and high ceilings laughter really echoes in there.
Now I have to go gas up the car in case we need a quick trip to the ER. Mr. Twench is going to play with his new toy today.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
I don't usually
blog about politics but lord have mercy so much material so little time.
Who is this woman they keep parading around? Is this really who we want in the White House as the FIRST female VP? She certainly won't get my vote. Doncha know.
One of the things that really bothers me the most is her public speaking abilities. Now I realize that probably sounds pretty funny coming from me. Twenchie the woman who types with a New Hampstah accent and says whatevah. The thing is, I'm here in my robe and furry slippahs typing a blog. I'm not standing on a stage, behind a podium, furiously flipping notecards and saying you betcha! G'ah. I shudder every time she opens her mouth.
I had a discussion with some friends and we talked about Sarah Palin and her obvious language impediment. Some floks said that they believe her folksey way of speaking appeals to some people. Her terms of joe six pack and soccer mom make people feel that she understands them, the people. Really? I find those terms rather demeaning. Is this what she really believes the majority of this country is comprised of? The truth of the matter is she does. Let us not forget that this is the woman who considers herself experienced in foreign policy because well, she can see Russia from her back door. Doncha know.
I think that if I met Sarah Palin at the local pub and we started chatting I might find her interesting. We could probably kick back, have a few beers, and probably even some laughs. Course, after a few beers I would probably have to rip that hideous hair piece off thus ending the friendship, but hey, it would be fun for me. All kidding aside, I'm sure she has some redeeming qualities. I'm sure that we could find things in common being as we're both middle class women raising kids and getting through life. But guess what? That's not who I want running this country. I want someone BETTER than me running the country.
If McCain and Palin are elected it is very possible, and let's face it, likely, that Sarah Palin would end up being the first female president of this country by default. No disrespect to McCain but he's in his 70's, he's not in good health and frankly, I just don't think he'll survive four years. Can you imagine Palin standing at the podium giving a State Of The Union address? I can hear her now" "is the economy turning around and improving? You betcha!" It's a recurring nightmare I have that wakes me from a sound sleep. Or it could just be the hot flashes, the jury is still out.
Listen, I'm ALL for women shattering the glass ceiling and running for, and winning, bids for political office. I'm all for a woman VP or a woman President. I just don't believe that a woman should get my vote simply because she's a woman. We need to elect the RIGHT woman and Sarah Palin falls so far from the mark she might as well be in Russia not just a close neighbor.
I saw a poll this morning that says Obama/Biden are widening the margin. I hope that poll is accurate because I tell you here and now that if they don't win I will have to move to Canada. I'll just change the ah to eh.
Who is this woman they keep parading around? Is this really who we want in the White House as the FIRST female VP? She certainly won't get my vote. Doncha know.
One of the things that really bothers me the most is her public speaking abilities. Now I realize that probably sounds pretty funny coming from me. Twenchie the woman who types with a New Hampstah accent and says whatevah. The thing is, I'm here in my robe and furry slippahs typing a blog. I'm not standing on a stage, behind a podium, furiously flipping notecards and saying you betcha! G'ah. I shudder every time she opens her mouth.
I had a discussion with some friends and we talked about Sarah Palin and her obvious language impediment. Some floks said that they believe her folksey way of speaking appeals to some people. Her terms of joe six pack and soccer mom make people feel that she understands them, the people. Really? I find those terms rather demeaning. Is this what she really believes the majority of this country is comprised of? The truth of the matter is she does. Let us not forget that this is the woman who considers herself experienced in foreign policy because well, she can see Russia from her back door. Doncha know.
I think that if I met Sarah Palin at the local pub and we started chatting I might find her interesting. We could probably kick back, have a few beers, and probably even some laughs. Course, after a few beers I would probably have to rip that hideous hair piece off thus ending the friendship, but hey, it would be fun for me. All kidding aside, I'm sure she has some redeeming qualities. I'm sure that we could find things in common being as we're both middle class women raising kids and getting through life. But guess what? That's not who I want running this country. I want someone BETTER than me running the country.
If McCain and Palin are elected it is very possible, and let's face it, likely, that Sarah Palin would end up being the first female president of this country by default. No disrespect to McCain but he's in his 70's, he's not in good health and frankly, I just don't think he'll survive four years. Can you imagine Palin standing at the podium giving a State Of The Union address? I can hear her now" "is the economy turning around and improving? You betcha!" It's a recurring nightmare I have that wakes me from a sound sleep. Or it could just be the hot flashes, the jury is still out.
Listen, I'm ALL for women shattering the glass ceiling and running for, and winning, bids for political office. I'm all for a woman VP or a woman President. I just don't believe that a woman should get my vote simply because she's a woman. We need to elect the RIGHT woman and Sarah Palin falls so far from the mark she might as well be in Russia not just a close neighbor.
I saw a poll this morning that says Obama/Biden are widening the margin. I hope that poll is accurate because I tell you here and now that if they don't win I will have to move to Canada. I'll just change the ah to eh.
Friday, October 03, 2008
Can we talk about
hot flashes? Most of the time I like being a woman and wouldn't change it for anything. There are howevah days, like today, when I raise my fist and declare that being a woman is a curse. A curse I tell you. The calender may say that summah is over but it's not in my world. It's quite fortunate for me that my deck is very private because yesterday I felt the need to stand out there, half nekkid just to try and cool off. I also considered just climbing into the freezer for a nap but sadly, I don't fit in there!
I went back and forth between standing in front of the fireplace proclaiming "brrr, I have a chill" to running out to the deck screaming "my god it's so friggin hot I can't stand it" Poor Mr. Twench and the cat couldn't keep up so they opted to just sit on the couch and shake their heads. I can't say as I blame them.
To those of you who say "I think I've had a hot flash" trust me, if you have one there is no thinking about it, you know! You know how hot you get sitting on a beach in July when it's humid and the temperature is 98 degree's? Pfffftttt. That's a walk in the park people. Hot flashes are brazen that way, there is no mistaking one, it is all consuming and when it's happening, it's the only thing you can think about. The good news is that I now have an idea of what hell will be like. That's probably a good thing since I'm sure it's where I'll spend all of eternity. At least I shall be prepared.
Yes, I've heard about HRT and no, I won't be taking them anytime soon. For various medical reasons, I can't. Truth be told I'm not sure that I would even if it were an option. There are just too many unknowns and actual evidence that they may cause cancer. I do enough things that could cause cancer I don't need to bump up my odds!
Here's the other thing. This is natural. Yes, it's unpleasant at times and creates more laundry because well, when one has a hot flash one sweats. And yes, my brain is fuzzier than it once was, and I've gone from the "i've had two kids pooch" to the "menopot pooch" but again, it's NATURAL. My body is doing what it was designed to do. Just like we have seasons here in New England our bodies have seasons. We go from young girls, to young women capable of bearing children, to older women no longer capable of bearing children. I'm ok with that.
I've heard friends say "OMG i'm beginning the menopause" like it's a death sentence. They get sad and depressed and are all "I'm old and my life is ovah" Say what? Listen, I love my daughters and I can't imagine my life without them, but there is no way in hell I want another one at this point in my life. I have no desire to go through a pregnancy,labor and delivery, or god forbid a two year old having a tantrum. I'm done. D.O.N.E.
I don't understand the concept that my only purpose on earth is to bear children, and when that ability ceases my life ends. Are you kidding me? My life is just beginning! And guess what, while I may suffer with hot flashes, I no longer have to deal with cramps and headaches and spending the equivalent of second mortgage on tampons. I'm FREE!
I look forward to entering a new decade. When I was younger I thought 50 was old. No really, I did. 50 isn't old it's the new 40. Perhaps back in the day when the mid line life expectancy was 65, 50 was a little scary but no so much today. Hell, the average retirement age is 70 now. 50 is still considered being a youngin!
The only downside that I see is that it's possible I haven't been suffering PMS all these years, it's actually just my personality. We'll have to discuss that another time though, right now I have to go stick my head in the freezer.
I went back and forth between standing in front of the fireplace proclaiming "brrr, I have a chill" to running out to the deck screaming "my god it's so friggin hot I can't stand it" Poor Mr. Twench and the cat couldn't keep up so they opted to just sit on the couch and shake their heads. I can't say as I blame them.
To those of you who say "I think I've had a hot flash" trust me, if you have one there is no thinking about it, you know! You know how hot you get sitting on a beach in July when it's humid and the temperature is 98 degree's? Pfffftttt. That's a walk in the park people. Hot flashes are brazen that way, there is no mistaking one, it is all consuming and when it's happening, it's the only thing you can think about. The good news is that I now have an idea of what hell will be like. That's probably a good thing since I'm sure it's where I'll spend all of eternity. At least I shall be prepared.
Yes, I've heard about HRT and no, I won't be taking them anytime soon. For various medical reasons, I can't. Truth be told I'm not sure that I would even if it were an option. There are just too many unknowns and actual evidence that they may cause cancer. I do enough things that could cause cancer I don't need to bump up my odds!
Here's the other thing. This is natural. Yes, it's unpleasant at times and creates more laundry because well, when one has a hot flash one sweats. And yes, my brain is fuzzier than it once was, and I've gone from the "i've had two kids pooch" to the "menopot pooch" but again, it's NATURAL. My body is doing what it was designed to do. Just like we have seasons here in New England our bodies have seasons. We go from young girls, to young women capable of bearing children, to older women no longer capable of bearing children. I'm ok with that.
I've heard friends say "OMG i'm beginning the menopause" like it's a death sentence. They get sad and depressed and are all "I'm old and my life is ovah" Say what? Listen, I love my daughters and I can't imagine my life without them, but there is no way in hell I want another one at this point in my life. I have no desire to go through a pregnancy,labor and delivery, or god forbid a two year old having a tantrum. I'm done. D.O.N.E.
I don't understand the concept that my only purpose on earth is to bear children, and when that ability ceases my life ends. Are you kidding me? My life is just beginning! And guess what, while I may suffer with hot flashes, I no longer have to deal with cramps and headaches and spending the equivalent of second mortgage on tampons. I'm FREE!
I look forward to entering a new decade. When I was younger I thought 50 was old. No really, I did. 50 isn't old it's the new 40. Perhaps back in the day when the mid line life expectancy was 65, 50 was a little scary but no so much today. Hell, the average retirement age is 70 now. 50 is still considered being a youngin!
The only downside that I see is that it's possible I haven't been suffering PMS all these years, it's actually just my personality. We'll have to discuss that another time though, right now I have to go stick my head in the freezer.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Ask Twenchie Sunday
A reader asked me about that picture over there. Allow me to introduce Peepers aka The Fat Girl aka Missy Lou Who aka The Queen. She is the Royal cat in the House of Twench.
Her actual name was given to her when I got her. She was the runt of the litter and around the age of 10 weeks she was still too tiny to meow so she *peeped* much like a new born bird. Her mother, Fluffy, was owned by my sister and Fluffy was, well to put it bluntly, a slut who routinely had a new litter. For at least two years my sister tried to send me home with a kitten every time I visited. It was always easy to say no until I met Peepers. She was so tiny that she fit in the palm of my hand and when she looked up at me with those big green eyes and peeped, it was love at first sight.
She was certainly entertainment those first few months. She was tiny in stature but big of heart and in her mind she could do anything. The first time she went outside to the back yard she literally had to hop over the blades of grass. She would romp around with the twenchettes all day and come in at night exhausted. Her favorite sleeping spot was on the top of the back of my recliner. At least 4 nights a week she would fall asleep and fall off. The THUD of her hitting the floor never stopped being funny, especially when she would come out from behind the chair and look at me as if to say "what? I totally meant to do that"
She loved to be outside and hunting or lying in the sun next to the kids while they played. It wasn't long before we kept a shovel by the back door. She loved hunting and it was her calling in life. She would show up at the back door at least once a day, with her tail standing proud, to gift me with her latest present. My response was usually "missy lou who what did you bring me today". People often commented on how beautiful my flower bed was. Little did they know what I was using for fertilizer! Back then the house we lived in backed up to farmland so there was no shortage of hunting grounds. Come to think of it, there was no shortage in our house. We often had mice get in but I never needed traps. I had Peepers. For those of you thinking that's terrible, it's the circle of life people.
When she was about 8 we moved and our new house was on a busy street. That ended her days of roaming around outside, but it was ok. She was getting older and it seemed she was ready to settle into being a house cat. That's where the name The Fat Girl was born. She was no longer outside running around all day but she still saw the need to eat as much. Hmmmmm, she's kind of human that way! She spent her days lying around in the sun patches and chasing tin foil balls and cuddling up on my lap while I watched TV at night.
Looking back I realize that she's been there for most of the big events in my life. Always with a meow, or a head butt, or a kiss, or just curling up and being my best friend. People often say "if only they could talk" when discussing animals but the truth is, Peepers does talk. She speaks with her eyes and when she's mad she has no problem flipping me off with her tail. Or meowing loudly. She may not have words but she manages to communicate quite effectively!
Her most recent name came a couple of years ago. The Queen. Mr. Twench dubbed her with that one and rightfully so. She is The Queen in every sense of the word. We often joke that we are merely the care takers of the nursing home. Peepers is in charge and she makes sure we know that at all times. We've had to place stools around the house to help her reach her favorite spots because well, she's not as adept at jumping as she once was. We've had to start feeding her only wet food because well, the truth of the matter is she can no longer chew dry food. We discovered that one when we gave her a crunchy treat. She chewed, and she chewed and then she finally admitted defeat and spit it out, along with a tooth. Getting old is a bitch.
She's no longer the fat girl. She's skinny and pretty frail but she still has a big heart and she can still flip a mean tail. She's developed cataracts and no longer sees as well as she once did. She routinely does laps around our coffee table. Mr. Twench likes to say she's on the track getting ready for a big race. When she sits to rest he says she's in the pits for a tire change :)
At the age of 19 I don't know how many years Ms. Peepers has left. Her body is giving out and frankly, I think she has some dementia going on. Sometimes she gets out of her bed, heads down the hall to the kitchen, and then sits and looks back at us as if to say "where the hell was I going". I'll continue putting stools around the house, and carrying her up to our bed at night, and washing her face to get the spots she can no longer reach. She'll continue to tail flip me because she doesn't like being helped. I think it makes her feel old and she wants to remain independent. I don't do these things because I have to, I do them because I choose too. She's my best friend and that's what best friends are for.
Her actual name was given to her when I got her. She was the runt of the litter and around the age of 10 weeks she was still too tiny to meow so she *peeped* much like a new born bird. Her mother, Fluffy, was owned by my sister and Fluffy was, well to put it bluntly, a slut who routinely had a new litter. For at least two years my sister tried to send me home with a kitten every time I visited. It was always easy to say no until I met Peepers. She was so tiny that she fit in the palm of my hand and when she looked up at me with those big green eyes and peeped, it was love at first sight.
She was certainly entertainment those first few months. She was tiny in stature but big of heart and in her mind she could do anything. The first time she went outside to the back yard she literally had to hop over the blades of grass. She would romp around with the twenchettes all day and come in at night exhausted. Her favorite sleeping spot was on the top of the back of my recliner. At least 4 nights a week she would fall asleep and fall off. The THUD of her hitting the floor never stopped being funny, especially when she would come out from behind the chair and look at me as if to say "what? I totally meant to do that"
She loved to be outside and hunting or lying in the sun next to the kids while they played. It wasn't long before we kept a shovel by the back door. She loved hunting and it was her calling in life. She would show up at the back door at least once a day, with her tail standing proud, to gift me with her latest present. My response was usually "missy lou who what did you bring me today". People often commented on how beautiful my flower bed was. Little did they know what I was using for fertilizer! Back then the house we lived in backed up to farmland so there was no shortage of hunting grounds. Come to think of it, there was no shortage in our house. We often had mice get in but I never needed traps. I had Peepers. For those of you thinking that's terrible, it's the circle of life people.
When she was about 8 we moved and our new house was on a busy street. That ended her days of roaming around outside, but it was ok. She was getting older and it seemed she was ready to settle into being a house cat. That's where the name The Fat Girl was born. She was no longer outside running around all day but she still saw the need to eat as much. Hmmmmm, she's kind of human that way! She spent her days lying around in the sun patches and chasing tin foil balls and cuddling up on my lap while I watched TV at night.
Looking back I realize that she's been there for most of the big events in my life. Always with a meow, or a head butt, or a kiss, or just curling up and being my best friend. People often say "if only they could talk" when discussing animals but the truth is, Peepers does talk. She speaks with her eyes and when she's mad she has no problem flipping me off with her tail. Or meowing loudly. She may not have words but she manages to communicate quite effectively!
Her most recent name came a couple of years ago. The Queen. Mr. Twench dubbed her with that one and rightfully so. She is The Queen in every sense of the word. We often joke that we are merely the care takers of the nursing home. Peepers is in charge and she makes sure we know that at all times. We've had to place stools around the house to help her reach her favorite spots because well, she's not as adept at jumping as she once was. We've had to start feeding her only wet food because well, the truth of the matter is she can no longer chew dry food. We discovered that one when we gave her a crunchy treat. She chewed, and she chewed and then she finally admitted defeat and spit it out, along with a tooth. Getting old is a bitch.
She's no longer the fat girl. She's skinny and pretty frail but she still has a big heart and she can still flip a mean tail. She's developed cataracts and no longer sees as well as she once did. She routinely does laps around our coffee table. Mr. Twench likes to say she's on the track getting ready for a big race. When she sits to rest he says she's in the pits for a tire change :)
At the age of 19 I don't know how many years Ms. Peepers has left. Her body is giving out and frankly, I think she has some dementia going on. Sometimes she gets out of her bed, heads down the hall to the kitchen, and then sits and looks back at us as if to say "where the hell was I going". I'll continue putting stools around the house, and carrying her up to our bed at night, and washing her face to get the spots she can no longer reach. She'll continue to tail flip me because she doesn't like being helped. I think it makes her feel old and she wants to remain independent. I don't do these things because I have to, I do them because I choose too. She's my best friend and that's what best friends are for.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Random musings
I just got off the phone with my bank. Why? Well mainly because I'm old and as a result I frequently forget things. I do most of my bill paying and banking on-line. I love on-line banking! Every now and again after you enter your user name and password the bank people ask you to answer a couple of security questions. It's so kind of them to look out for my safety. So, today was the day they asked my security questions. What's my favorite color? Red, and this is important for all of you planning on purchasing me Christmas gifts. Next they wanted to know the make of my first car. Easy. Chevy. BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
That answer is incorrect, please try again.
Hmmmm. Nova BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
You have answered incorrectly and we have now locked you out of this account. Please call Customer Care. Well shit. It's little embarrassing to call and tell them you don't remember what you originally answered. I mean, yes I'm getting on in years but I should be able to recall some simple things. Clearly I can't. And the worst part, while the bank folks asked a few questions and determined that I really am me, they can't tell me the answer to the question. They can only reset it and allow me to answer a different question. It's great that I can now get back into my bank account but frankly, it sucks that I'm going to lie awake nights wondering what the hell my first car was. It's entirely possible I originally answered horse drawn carriage. I'm sarcastic that way.
My new dishwasher makes assumptions. It has this loverly little feature that tells you when the dishes are clean. You load it, you run the cycle and wah lah! A loverly green light comes on telling you the dishes inside are clean. Now given that we've already established that I routinely forget shit, this is quite handy. With one exception. It assumes that the minute I open the door I will be unloading all the dishes and therefore I will no longer need to be told the dishes inside are clean. That's a big assumption in my world. Just because I opened the door doesn't mean I'm unloading everything. I mean c'mon, I have a life! Sometimes I open it, take what I need and close it up again because let's face it, the clean dishes aren't going anywhere. It's sort of like having extra storage. I don't like that my dishwasher assumes things, it makes me feel like a slacker.
Never throw things away that are in your junk drawer. And don't even try and tell me that you don't have a junk drawer because EVERYONE does. Every now and again said drawer becomes so full that it becomes difficult to open and close it. No matter how hard you shove it, I can neither confirm nor deny that I know this from personal experience. I can confirm this: if you clean the drawer and throw something out, that hasn't been used in 3 years, because you don't know what it's for, in approximately 1 week two things will happen. One, you'll remember what it was for and two, you'll need it.
That answer is incorrect, please try again.
Hmmmm. Nova BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
You have answered incorrectly and we have now locked you out of this account. Please call Customer Care. Well shit. It's little embarrassing to call and tell them you don't remember what you originally answered. I mean, yes I'm getting on in years but I should be able to recall some simple things. Clearly I can't. And the worst part, while the bank folks asked a few questions and determined that I really am me, they can't tell me the answer to the question. They can only reset it and allow me to answer a different question. It's great that I can now get back into my bank account but frankly, it sucks that I'm going to lie awake nights wondering what the hell my first car was. It's entirely possible I originally answered horse drawn carriage. I'm sarcastic that way.
My new dishwasher makes assumptions. It has this loverly little feature that tells you when the dishes are clean. You load it, you run the cycle and wah lah! A loverly green light comes on telling you the dishes inside are clean. Now given that we've already established that I routinely forget shit, this is quite handy. With one exception. It assumes that the minute I open the door I will be unloading all the dishes and therefore I will no longer need to be told the dishes inside are clean. That's a big assumption in my world. Just because I opened the door doesn't mean I'm unloading everything. I mean c'mon, I have a life! Sometimes I open it, take what I need and close it up again because let's face it, the clean dishes aren't going anywhere. It's sort of like having extra storage. I don't like that my dishwasher assumes things, it makes me feel like a slacker.
Never throw things away that are in your junk drawer. And don't even try and tell me that you don't have a junk drawer because EVERYONE does. Every now and again said drawer becomes so full that it becomes difficult to open and close it. No matter how hard you shove it, I can neither confirm nor deny that I know this from personal experience. I can confirm this: if you clean the drawer and throw something out, that hasn't been used in 3 years, because you don't know what it's for, in approximately 1 week two things will happen. One, you'll remember what it was for and two, you'll need it.
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