Moron Cat Vs The Cat With No Name

Okay recently I was forced into accepting a stray cat into our household.  Pretty sure my arm was behind my back.  For some reason I made the mistake of feeding the cat from up the street, who looked anorexic, and the dinner bell rang for every stray within a mile, plus raccoons, possums, and possibly a few chubacabras visiting from the Caribbean.


Okay, who knew they make milk bones
for Chupacabras?

First came the Cat with No Name, a white with charcoal gray-spotted cat who we couldn't quite get a good look at the under the tail to determine the gender.  (Turns out he was a neutered male.)  Then there was a skinny cat with white socks who was all male.  (Not neutered, really not neutered.)  The one with the socks vanished.  (I don't think good things happened to him.)  Then another cat showed up, a black one with a white bib and paws.  He was horribly skinny.  He was also not neutered and very friendly.  So he got to go to the vet first.  Turns out he was sick with feline leukemia and worst of all, had no teeth in his upper jaw.  The vet said he'd had a hard life.  I take no joy in admitting that the best thing to do was to have him put down.  (I know people are going to hate me for it but we have a healthy cat and he's already gotten worms from one of the strays.  It's sad but we couldn't take care of the sick one.)

I am not a monster, I swear.

Since that cat had feline leukemia I thought for sure the Cat with No Name would have it too.  They'd been hanging out and sharing food bowls.  I had just got the cat to trust me when we dumped a towel over his head and shoved him into a cat carrier.  (Which is the sort of thing that happens on docks or at frat houses.  Sometimes at republican and democratic conventions, too.)

It turns out they make a lot of sad cat memes.

So after $250 later we found out that the CWNN was disease free but not very happy with the amount of needles that had gone into his butt.  HIM and Cressy both went on a shopping spree at Petsmart and the CWNN came home with us, rechristened Splotchy, because I don't get to name pets anymore.  (I wanted Dr. No or Sarcamanga or something cool like Goldfinger.)  Everyone was happy but me and the new cat.

Now I'm just getting silly.

Megaroy, the Moron Cat, was not pleased.  While it was great that cats hung out on the porch and gave him worms (True story.) it was not great that they came inside, inside his terra firma, his abode, his turf.  Splotchy went under a bed and stayed there for about two days.  Then he tore out all the berber rug in front of the bedroom door.  What fun and joy.  Then he realized the grub was free and the darkness under the bed wasn't so bad.  He came out, started exploring, and Megaroy was further alarmed.

The return of...da da dah...LadderCat.

Two weeks later and Megaroy has thawed out but is dismayed that Splotchy doesn't want to play let-me-bounce-you-into-the-floor and is not impressed by the sideways scamper.  Splotchy could also be known as the diagonal cat who longs to trip you while going up the stairs.  If your leg and his side aren't connected the universe is wrong.  This is a cat who is looking for a pet to happen.  He pretty much ignores everything but pets and food.  We might have to put him on a diet.

Yesterday cat WWWIII occurred.  Megaroy has decided that sniffing Splotchy's butt is the thing to do.  Splotchy has decided that he'll put up with it until he didn't.  Much bad language ensued with things like "Get your fricking nose out of my butt, diphose!" and "If your butt didn't smell so bad I wouldn't have to sniff it up, dingwa!"  And Splotchy has now conquered Megaroy in a display of street cat dominance that left Megaroy in the dirt.

Our house is never really boring.

And there he is...Splotchy.

Minutia and Other Random Stuff

Warning: Fat Woman may use big words like minutia and minutiae and expect readers to understand them.  Ranting may be involved.  Subjects could be changed very quickly.

I just learned, just now, that the plural of minutia is minutiae, and I feel compelled to share it.  There you go.  With that in mind I found two memes relating to minutia.

I need this t-shirt.

Then here was a classic explanation of the difference between minutia and minutiae.  (There's an extra e in minutiae.  Also it's plural.  Just sayin'.)

Could not be simpler.

So now for an abrupt change of subjects.  Recently someone complained that...wait, I have to insert a spoiler alert here.

For anyone who hasn't read Bubba and the Zigzaggery Zombies, I will be making a reference to the plot of the same and I don't want anyone to say, "OMG, Caren, you totally spoiled it by making me read the blog before I read the book.  You wanker."  Or something like that.  So attention, spoiler, spoiler, spoiler.  If you haven't read Bubba and the Zigzaggery Zombies, and you desperately want to read Bubba and the Zigzaggery Zombies, but just haven't got the chance, DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT.

Spoiler for George R. R. Martin.
(Why does he have two middle names?)

See you did it anyway.

All right, recently someone complained that I skipped the whoopee scene between Bubba and Willodean.  There it is, in a nut shell, no pun intended.  They actually complained that I skipped the scene and what the hell was I thinking by doing so.

Consequently, I was thinking about the complaint.  In all honesty I think the Bubba series aren't the kind of books where a gratuitous scene should be included.  Furthermore I hate coming up with ten synonyms for the male member, (penis, tool, peter, phallus, Johnson, schlong, willy, wait I have to stop to laugh) and I've been known to giggle while writing such scenes.  Basically I don't usually write them.

I went looking for romantic memes and I found pulp fiction covers, which are almost as good.  (This counts as a change in the blog, but don't worry I'll get back to the other thing quickly.)

 

I love this cover.  I might have to go and read this
book.

Anyway back to the complaint.  I decided that I would write the Bubba/Willodean love scene and post it on my blog.  Just for those critics.  Here it is:

Bubba looked into Willodean's eyes.  Willodean looked into Bubba's eyes.  The bedroom door shut.  Several minutes later, "WHOO HOO!" was heard. 

There you go.  That's as explicit as I'm going to get with that.  Just for that one complainer person.

But to make up for it, here's some more funky pulp fiction covers.

This looks newer but it's also really cool.

I love this one, too.  It doesn't get any more
succinct.  She wakes up screaming.
It's implicit.
 

Who doesn't like a jungle babe looking at a
great ape whipping men?

Seven bone chilling tales.  Seven.
Golly.

And my favorite...

If you're going to have a radioactive redhead,
she should be a badass.  It goes without
saying, although I said it anyway.

All right.  Enough blathering.  Back to Bubba 6.