Okay, I'll Entertain You.

Briefly, anyway.

Whenever I hear the GOP talk about bipartisanship, rationality filters kick in and this is how it comes out:

"Look, I know I wrecked your car and forged your name to get all your money out of your retirement fund and sold all your furniture for drugs and called your neighbors fags and threw all my trash on their lawn and stole all your prescription pills and got you fired and cheated on you and called you fat and shredded that wedding picture of your mom and dad, but... Listen, I really need a place to stay, and I swear I'll sleep on the couch, okay? Come on, you owe me! If you hadn't told her about the herpes, your sister would never have thrown me out!"

Am I alone in thinking this is the driving force behind Unity '08 as well?

Tuesday Sickcat Blogging

Well, she's put on a quarter of a pound in about two weeks. This is good, they tell me.

She's back to messing on the carpet and has begun pulling out some of her fur. This is less good, but there is no indication that it's a physical problem, they checked for parasites and for infections and for hives or whatever and she's fine, apparently just incredibly stressed out. They offered me some anti-anxiety pills. My partner's comment: "For her, or for the cat?"

Yes, yes, very funny. I declined, on the grounds that she doesn't need any more side effects to correct behavior I'm perfectly willing to live with anyway, and making her take another pill will only add to the stress. With any luck, the housemate will move out at the end of the month (Nothing definite so far, ugh), which should help her a lot.

They've given me another pill for her every other day, it's called Leukeran, and I am advised to handle it only with gloves on and to wash with soap and hot water anything else it comes into contact with. "And this is what you want me to make my nine pound cat swallow?"

Apparently so. They tell me that with the two pills combined, there's a good chance of giving her another two or three years. We got her fifteen years ago this week, so to be honest if not especially tactful I wasn't actually expecting to have her around more than seventeen or eighteen years anyway. Cats have a short life span; you learn to live with it or you adopt only lichens. And they suck to pet.

So that's where we are, for those of you who might care.

Also, my sister got me a book on How To Be A Villain for my birthday. I'm hoping it'll help me deal with the housemate if she decides commuting all the way across Seattle to college is a better deal than paying her own room and board. I'm already practicing my villain laugh: Ah-hahaHAhaHAHAha!