archives

linky-blogs
KittyKitty

@

Saturday, October 19, 2002

I ain't got no~~~satisfaction, but intend to correct that situation soon. I have in my possession a Digornio spinach, mushrooms and garlic pizza. To complement this delicacy, I will serve (myself) a delicate bubbly Sprite, with its tasty blend of lemon-lime undertone flavors. I will enjoy this repast with a showing of "Monsters, Inc." on my home movie screen. (well, a TV set with a VCR). If this isn't the ultimate in high class cuisine and entertainment I don't know what is. I am content.
posted by Lorraine 3:45 PM 
--------------------------------------------------------------------

I've been fighting with~~~my website's construction crew for the last half hour. And I am pissed. I wanted to put a "teaser", with a picture, on the old homestead splash page and it just kept on arguing and arguing. I finally told it to shove it up its cyber-ass and stomped off. I have this kind of long article that someone out there may enjoy, but you have to like cats and you have to like that cyberhead BS technical "talk" . Whatever. I happen to like the article, if you want to read it, fine. If not, that's OK too. The CAT Owner's Manual

Can you tell I am in a much sweeter mood today? Whatdidyousay? Oh yeah???? ---- Well, ummmmmmmm, your mama wears combat boots. Don't read the damn thing then, what do I care?

Uh, there was a slight technical problem. Me. I know I hit "Cntrl C" to copy the manual for placing somewhere else. But when I went to the new locale and hit "Cntrl V" ------ Total horror!!. There was nothing, nada, zilch, blank page. The manual is no more. And I can't remember who sent me the damn thing. But I will track the originator of the manual down, at which time I will resurrect it and bring it back.

Dammit, now I'm crabby again.

posted by Lorraine 11:24 AM 
--------------------------------------------------------------------

Thursday, October 17, 2002

Oh Poopie, I am so crabby~~~I can't stand myself. It's been one of those days where the world is flat, along with my mood. It doesn't happen very often, thank goodness, but it is a day wasted. Did absolutely nothing, took a couple of naps, and worst of all, had no appetite. That is--if you knew me--a very serious situation.

Just feel mysteriously crappy, it's 5:00 PM and I still haven't figured it out. Not sick, not well. I had no interest in this machine all day and most of yesterday. I suspect a lot of this malaise is just a simple little pity party. Everyone has to set aside a day now and then for their very own Pity Party, right?

I am a mess. A beautiful, grey-haired, mature babe, but for today---just a mess. *Sigh*

posted by Lorraine 5:11 PM 
--------------------------------------------------------------------

Wednesday, October 16, 2002

The movies in the olden days~~~ Well, here's an old thought, again, that is actually a re-run from "Born in the USA" on my homeland site. Did you know that as you grow older, your brain shrinks (your skull stays the same)? So obviously, many of the memories I have of being a child in the 1930's+ are being squeezed out of this ever-shrinking brain because I am running out of room in that small space.

Like. for example, the pleasant summer evenings when my parents and I walked to the neighborhood movie theatre. Everything seemed to be close to home then. We'd see two movies, a newsreel, a cartoon and "coming attractions", all for 25 cents. Then we'd stop and buy a pint of ice cream on the way home. With precise calculations, my Mom would cut it into three slices and the evening would end on this pleasurable note.

When I got old enough to cross the street by myself (high school), my buds and I would hit the Big Time---the movie palaces "downtown". What grand and glorious palaces they were, too. We had one theatre with a balcony where you were permitted to smoke. Coincidentally, it was practically on the Marquette Univ. campus. OOOooo--- college people, heady stuff for a young teenager.

I wasn't real wild about balcony seating, though, smoke or not. The last rows in the balcony were (unofficially, of course) dedicated to kids making out. I never had the privilege of being pawed by a sweaty, clumsy teenage boy there. My friends and I convinced ourselves we were much too elegant and sophisticated for such primitive groping. Yeah, right. Being a teenager in the 40's was easy. I only wish the kids of today had the same opportunity for such naive innocence as we did. I don't know who started the rumor, but "nice girls" didn't let boys touch them "there".

There must have been a legion of boys with serious pain (do they still call 'em blue balls?) limping home after a necking session at the girl's door. Poor guys!!!

Was life simpler then? You betcha!! Were we happier then? How would we know?

posted by Lorraine 10:15 AM 
--------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunday, October 13, 2002

Whee-e-e-e~~Big Sissy Boy went potty. Yay!! Several times, in fact. I threw out that stuff that looked like little green turds and put in his scented Scoop-a-Way. Coincidence? I think not. Cats just have their own way of telling you exactly what they want and the veteranarian's idea be damned. OK. Just thought I'd share this good news with you.

More important news now. Listen up, this is something society needs to correct. I'm talking about those itsy-bitsy tags produce packers stick on every apple, plum, peach, nectarine, blah blah. My daughter nearly choked on one of these paper menaces once, but of course she's usually in her own little la-la land so didn't even notice it on the apple she was eating.. But you can bet your sweet ass I know they're there.

Next to the recliner in my bedroom I have a table where I keep my TV guide and clipboard w/puzzles. When I bring an apple in there, I take off the little weezy label and stick it on the edge of the table. When I get a fair amount lined up, I scrape them off and discard them, provided I can shake them off my hand.

What is inexcusable are those tags that somehow escape the fruit, fall on the carpeting and cement themselves to the floor. When I vacuumed the other day, I went over and over the spots where two of them were firmly embedded. Nothing. I finally had to bend over and scratch them off the carpet !! This just ain't right.

I'd like to organize a protest march in front of the supermarket, but then it occurred to me that this wouldn't work. Like, I always buy "Gala" type apples.....crisp, sweet and delectable. But then, in the same row of other apples, there are are Fiji, Braeburn, Macintosh, Johnathan, Rome. Mostly all of these look alike. So without the ID tag stuck on each one, how would a checker-outer know what to charge?

Never mind.

posted by Lorraine 7:50 AM 
--------------------------------------------------------------------