Thursday, December 20, 2007

Feline Defecation

December 20, 2007 - Thursday
Current mood: disgusted

Since moving to my new (old) house, I have had to cope with the lack of a washer and dryer. Up until now, this has been fair, considering I am living in a huge new (old) house rent free. I have simply adopted the ritual of, approximately every 10 days, gathering my clothing items in need of washing and heading over to my parents' house to take care of that, and to (hopefully) get a free meal in while I'm there. You know, just like most single people in their twenties.

Well, one monumental event has forever altered my ritual. One cataclysmic occurrence has rendered my habit of laundry-doing at my parents' house nearly impossible.

It all started last weekend with the Great Blizzard of 2007. I'm allowed to call it a blizzard because of the puny excuse for snow I experienced in Nashville last year. CNN said we had 9 1/2 inches of snow over here in Decatur. I still estimate it was no more than 8, but tomatoes tomatoes, as they say (that expression really doesn't make as much sense in print as it does when you say it).

Anyway, last weekend, I was stuck at my parents' house on Saturday night. On Sunday, I ventured over to my place to pick up my laundry and a few other things. On Sunday night, I began washing my clothes. I had 3 loads total to do. One load with jeans, towels, and darks, one load with whites and grays, and one load with brights...I know, I do laundry like a dude.
I have, for the last ten years of my life, taken care of my laundry needs at my parents' house with no problems other than the fact that the washing machine sounds like a rocket launching in our back room every time it gets into the spin cycle (something about a bearing.....my dad has told me several times before, but I really don't remember what he said, nor do I care). And so because I had never had a complaint about my laundry in the past, how was I to know what would happen this time?

Once I had pulled the last load of clothes out of the dryer, I said goodbye to my family and retreated to the laundry room to pick up my basket. As I picked up the basket, I thought to myself, "Man, something in here just doesn't smell right." But I placed the basket in my car and made the treacherous 3 mile drive back to my place.

You must understand that I have a horrible habit of leaving my laundry in the basket for a few days before I finally fold and hang up the necessary items. I'm a little lazy on that part of the job.

The next morning I woke up and began rifiling through the basket for my work uniform....a pair of jeans and whatever baggy sweatshirt I happen to find first. This morning was not out of the ordinary. I found my blue Old Navy sweatshirt (my very favorite one) and a pair of jeans, along with appropriate under garments. As I was getting dressed I noticed the faint smell of something unpleasant. I remembered that I had smelled something strange the night before as well, but I just chalked it up to my incorrect sense of smell. Sometimes my nose is just off.

For instance, I have always and will forevermore believe that Finesse hair products smell like pepper. I don't know why I feel this way, but my nose just interprets the smell as such. I have also been known to make strange associations with fabric softeners. And I was just sure this is what I was doing this time. I just figured I was misinterpreting the scent of lavender for dirt or something like that. No big deal. And so I spritzed on a couple squirts of my Vickie's Secret perfume and scooted out the door.

Later that night I put my pajamas on and smelled it again. And the next morning when I was, again retrieving clothes from the basket to wear. It was not until later that evening that I finally decided to put my laundry away.

And as I began selecting clothing items from the basket to fold and place in drawers, I noticed that the smell was getting stronger and stronger. And then as I pulled out my brand new black camisole, I realized that it was all clumped up in the corner. And as I began trying to shake it out I understood:
That was no fabric softener I was smelling.

It was cat poop.

Now, I realize it's not very becoming of a woman to speak of such things. A woman should say words like "residue" or "droppings" or "excrement". But I need you to understand, this wasn't a small little morsel of doodie. It was the largest load of cat crap I have ever seen. It was mostly concentrated in two of my garments, with various "prints" left on several others. But seriously, I would have thought it was human poo had I not known better. Never in my life have I seen such a large chunk of kitty caca.

And so I wore cat crap clothing for two days straight: cat crap pants, cat crap socks, cat crap bras, cat crap underwear, cat crap shirts, cat crap pajamas. I'm surprised I still have friends. And I apologize to anyone who had to spend time with me during those two horrible, horrible days.

There are three possible culprits at my parents' house who could have created this masterpiece of muck in my clean laundry.

Veruca, my precious angel kitty would never do such a thing, so that eliminates her.
And my sister's cat Mardi....well the pile of crap was bigger than she was, so I seirously doubt it was her.
Which only leaves Flave-a-Flave. This particular cat belongs to my brother. My brother happened to be extremely angry with me at the time, and plus this particular cat had previously bitten me that day. And so I hereby find one Flave-A-Flave, owned by my brother Mitchell, guilty of relieving himself (in the worst possible way) on my freshly laundered clothing.
There are several important life-lessons that can be garnered from this story:

1. Trust your sense of smell: If something smells like poop, don't wear it.
2. If your brother is angry with you, be sure to keep his cat away from your laundry basket.
3. My parents' probably need to put a litter box in the house again while the cats are inside for the winter.
4. Always fold your clothing promptly after taking it home. Do not allow the feces-infested basket to ruminate the air in your house for two full days before attending to the problem.

I sincerely hope every single person whose eyes gaze upon this story will learn from the pain I had to endure. Do not put yourself through this. Please, let my experience be your lesson. I don't want to have suffered through this traumatic event in vain.

Currently listening : Real By Jake Smith Release date: 31 July, 2007

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Argyle Pizza and My True Calling

December 18, 2007 - Tuesday
Current mood: electric

As Christmas is fast approaching, the presents are slowly piling themselves up under my tree.....and at the office.....and in my car. After coming to the realization that these gifts were beginning to take over my most frequented spots, I surmised it was most probably time to attend to the problem.

And I invited my lovely and beautiful friend Amanda over for a wrapping party.

Little did we know the hilarity and wonderment that would soon envelop our little soiree.

Upon Amanda's arrival, we promptly phoned in an order for pizza from our local gourmet (albeit overpriced) pizzeria, Monicals. We were told our pizza would be $538.60, and that it would arrive in 45 minutes to half an hour.

And so we proceeded to wrap. We wrapped our little hearts out. From sweaters to books to DVDs to shoes, we wrapped with every force inside of ourselves. We wrapped to our fullest potential.

And then our pizza came. As we jaunted down to the basement, the fragrance of melted cheese, green peppers and sausage permeated the air. I knew we were in for a treat. As I found my seat and prepared our food for the partaking, I helped myself to a breadstick. Yummy.
When I had devoured the breadstick, I decided that it was time to enjoy some of that fine pizza we had anticipated for such a long time. And as I removed the foil from the top of the pizza (you see, Monicals pizza does not come in the traditional cardboard box used by most other pizza outlets, but rather they delicately place their pizzas on a cardboard flat, strategically put a couple of the Barbie tables into the pizza, and then wrap the entire pie in foil. Once this is accomplished, they place the foiled pizza into a paper sleeve), I noticed that something looked strange on the pizza, but I couldn't quite place my finger on it.

Until I tried to grab my first slice. Someone had cut our pizza into diamond shapes, rendering the act of actually choosing one slice at a time a virtual impossibility. It looked like an argyle sweater.

Now, you may be wondering what could have possibly been so difficult about selecting a slice of pizza if it was cut diagonally. All I can say to you is: You try it. You're expecting to choose a square slice and everything is all melted together. When consuming any ordinary pizza, we don't typically assess where the slices have been made each time we reach for a piece. We normally just assume we will grasp somewhere close and that the pizza is sliced well enough to go with the flow.

Argyle pizza is very challenging to eat, but it tastes the same as any other pizza.

Incidentally, if anyone can tell me why thick crust pizza is sliced into triangular shapes while thin crust is normally cut into squares, they will receive 1,057 bonus points.

After we had done what we could with the argyle pizza, we adjourned to the couch to watch the season finale of NBC's The Biggest Loser. Amanda had not been particularly into this show, but I had watched it nearly every week this season, and I was eagerly anticipating seeing the final results.

I am certain that my readers all know the premise of The Biggest Loser. You try to lose the most weight and not get eliminated so you will win $250,000.00. For most, watching this show would inspire them to begin exercising more and eating less. When I watch this show, I am inspired to eat cookies.

But regardless, I love the show. I have a normal routine as I partake of this program every week. My mother and I guess the weights of the contestants on the show as they step onto the giant scale. Since my mother was not with me tonight, Amanda and I decided to continue the tradition. And as I began guessing, I shocked and amazed my dear friend by estimating the weight of the contestants within one pound....three times in a row!

I think I have discovered my true calling. I will become one of those carnies who guesses people's weight at the fair.

Granted, I was pretty far off base for the rest of the contestants I was guessing, but for that brief span of five minutes or so, I was in a zone.

Currently listening : Biggest Loser By Biggest Loser Release date: 20 March, 2007