Have A Groovy Weekend Folks!

Poor Todd wins the 30,000th hit and hardly any one comes up with prize ideas. That could have been you. What if you are next to win some random, unplanned contest here at Home Fires? What would you want me to send to you? (within reason people, no new cars will be distributed)

Todd has been silently hanging around for a couple of months. Home Fires has a lot of visitors who like to remain hidden in the shadows. Yesterday there were 165 hits and 30 comments, which is something that happens often here. So Todd, you aren't alone in the shadows. (Lois waves crazy like to all of the folks in the shadows.)

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A couple of issues have come up in my little world in the last few days. First of all, my sister Anita had a scare of breasticle proportions. Coincidentally, while National Breast Cancer Awareness Month was taking shape, a lump was also taking shape.

"You know what?" I said to her lump. "We've fucking had enough cancer shit to last a mother fucking lifetime. So take a fucking hike."

She went to the doctor, went through tests and stuff. Thankfully, she checked out a-okay and her lump was some kind of somethingoranother, probably a result of boy cooties. I'm just happy my Sista is tit-tasic.

My mother, on the other hand is a freakin' whack job. I know she is everyone's favorite character here, so know I say that with love in my heart.

We were on the phone, celebrating Anita's booby prize, when my mother told me about them stopping for lunch on the way back from the hospital. She said while they stood waiting to order, she had to pee. It was one of those can't wait until we get home pees. She had to use the public restroom, something Mom hates to do.

"Lo, you wouldn't believe this bathroom. It was so clean and the water in the toilet was so, so... blue."

I interrupted her, "Wow, blue water! That's amazing! I bet after you peed it turned green huh?"

"Well, it was a pretty blue smart ass and yes, I turned it green."

"Did the Tidy Bowl man wave at you from inside the poo pot too?"

"Shut up. I've just never seen a public bathroom so well-kept. All of the fixtures looked brand new. All of the chrome was shiny."

"That's great Mom. You know, I am going to have to blog about this."

"Why?"

"Mom, you are excited about blue poo pot water! You really need to get out more often."

Anyone want to guess what my mom is going to get as a Christmas gift from me?

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Chip the wonder cat is on my last stinking nerve. He is going through some feline form of the terrible twos. He is constantly jumping onto a table, a counter or the refrigerator. The last time I caught him way up there, he was trying to reach the moving ceiling fan. I should have waited to see what he would have done if he managed to grab hold. Instead, I clapped my hands and down he jumped.

In the last two days, he has turned the bathroom sink on, running water for who knows how long. Guess I'll know when the bill comes. He has knocked over two plants, causing dirt to spill onto my carpet. He has knocked over countless glasses of water much too close to my laptop. He has decided taking a nap on the bird cage is the most comfy spot of all. The whole time he is up there the birds are squawking as if they are about to become Meow Mix.

This morning, the little fucker decided he likes coffee. He was sitting on the kitchen table, dipping his paw in my cup and licking it off when I walked in.

Every time he sees the kids writing something, he feels the need to attack the moving pencil.

His new favorite thing to do is to use both litter boxes. He also waits until I am cleaning them. As I am pouring fresh litter in, he is hopping in to take a crap. But he doesn't let it all out at once, hell no. He waits for the other box to get a refill before finally pinching off the rest. He does the same thing when he pees, half in one box, half in the other. Since the other cat, Patches, the bitch, does her business outside behind the bushes, I am considering removing the second box. I can't believe I am writing about cat shit and you are still reading. What is wrong with us?

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More about cats, less about shit. I've noticed this ridiculous thing that I keep doing. When the cat climbs in bed with me, I do everything in my power to not disturb him. Why? He is a fucking cat.

I caught myself the other night, laying in the most awkward and uncomfortable position because he was taking up a lot of room. So there I was, pressed against the cold wall, to keep the cat comfortable.

In my head, I know, if that were Mr. Lane, laying beside me, I'd frikkin' move his ass out of my way. I also know, in my head, he is a fucking cat and can sleep comfortably on a picket fence.

Picture the cat laying on the outside of the bed. I have to pee. Rather than climbing over him, shoving him off of the bed or even picking him up and moving him to the other side of the bed, I slither my stupid ass to the foot of the bed like a retarded inch worm, just so I do not disturb the fucking cat.

So now I wonder, if I know all of this, why in the name of blog, do I continue this routine each and every night?