I don’t have anything monumental to write about tonight, which means that I’d better keep things brief. Whenever I don’t have a specific subject matter to address, I tend to ramble. In fact, sometimes I tend to ramble even when I DO have a specific subject matter to discuss. It’s a gift, I think. Usually, my term papers in college were graded by the pound.
Plus, I think I slept a total of four hours last night, because Cat 2 is nocturnal. Cat 1, who was hatched by a rabid T-Rex suffering from PMS, and then raised by wolverines in her infancy before we adopted her, loves to attack and bite small children. And grown-ups. And anyone in between. But at night, when we shut the lights off and call it a day, she jumps up onto the bed and obeys the house rule. (The house rule being a rather simple one: When it’s dark outside, we sleep.) Cat 1 will sleep on the bed all night, without getting up. Of course, she has a definite tendency to wrap herself around my head and neck like a cat scarf, until I feel like I’m suffocating and jerk awake for air, but that’s a whole different story for another time. (I always say that she’s snuggling me in love, but secretly, I think she’s trying to cut my air supply off on accident. Like perhaps accidentally on purpose.) Cat 2, however, does her worst damage when it’s dark. Because of her and her nocturnal tendencies, all of the houseplants in our home have been shredded, mangled and turned into salad. And last night was no exception, as far as her disobedience goes. I could hear her on the kitchen counters (a big no-no for fur babies at our house). I got up to yell at her. I went back to bed. I could then hear her on the dining room table (another big no-no). I got up to yell at her. I went back to bed. I could hear her batting some small object around on the hardwood floors. Clink. Click. Clink. I got up. I tried to throw something at her. She ran away and hid. Clearly, it was a long night.
The blog had a bit of a monumental day yesterday, as someone wrote about it on a rather widely used website, and blam! I went from having my mom read it every day to suddenly having sixty-some hits in a single span of twenty-four hours.
That was big news for a little blog from Small Town, USA.
In other big news, Susan and Missi and I had our second PhotoShop class of the semester last night, and we quickly learned that taking Starbucks cups into the computer lab is officially against the rules. Of course, Susan had to stop and treat me to a venti Signature Hot Cocoa just minutes before we arrived at class, so we had to stand outside the lab, in the hallway, and suck substantial amounts of hot chocolate down in the span of time that it takes my cat to destroy a plant.
Which is literally microseconds, people.
I couldn’t stand for a cup filled with Starbucks goodness to go to waste, and I wasn’t about to leave it unattended in the hallway (I’ve heard what can happen to college girls when they walk away from their drinks), so I slurped quickly. After I burned the taste buds off of my tongue and put a blister the size of a silver dollar on the roof of my mouth, everything went numb, and I almost finished it.
I regret to inform you that some of that particular Starbucks drink was indeed wasted. Susan and I are neither rule breakers nor ones with an affection for tardiness, so we had to leave the cups behind in the garbage can and head to class. Just trying to be the teacher’s pets, you know.
It was a sad evening indeed. I’ve never left a Starbucks cup behind before.
And, for the record, today’s college students cannot take drinks into computer labs, even when they promise not to spill their cups of liquid gold. Who made that rule, anyway? When you have something as precious as liquid gold in your cup, you tend to make sure it stays upright and unspilled.
Our assignment last night was to ruin pictures of ourselves. Missi opened up a picture of herself in PhotoShop, cut it in half, flipped half of it, and merged it with the original. The end result was a squashed version of her head, which she deliberately squashed more than was necessary, until she was left with a distorted blob that sort of resembled herself, and it made us laugh.
And when I say made us laugh, I mean this: Missi and I laughed until our sides hurt. And then Professor PhotoShop started talking, so…naturally…we should have been quiet. Only have you ever gotten hysterical giggles when you were SUPPOSED TO BE QUIET? Like in church or something? Yeah. Me, too. And last night was one of those instances, and Missi and I had to hang our heads and try to regain some control of our laughter, only every single time I looked up, there was Missi’s stretched out face, smiling at me from her computer screen, with a pair of glasses on that would have fit a Barbie doll’s face, and I’d laugh even harder.
Clearly, we’re not starting off on the right foot with Professor PhotoShop, what with trying to sneak in Starbucks cups and then laughing during lecture. Really, people, my mama taught me better manners than what I had last night.
And then, as I glanced at the comments left on last night’s blog post, I saw that Missi (bless her stinking heart), pointed out that Maverick (from Top Gun) wasn’t in the Air Force. Apparently, he was a Navy man, and I had it all wrong. After the volleyball scene in Top Gun, all else was lost on me in that movie. I’m sure Paul (our real life friend who WAS in the Air Force), and Doctor Jeff (who was in the Marines) are shaking their heads at me with disgust and sadness. I’m not proud, people. It was an honest mistake.
I totally know, though, that the Smurfs lived in Smurf Village, which was hidden in the woods somewhere. At least I can cough up that tiny nugget of fact.
And, in other news, if Hubs calls me old one more time, he and Cat 2 will both be up for adoption this week. Hubs is fond of quoting Michael G. Scott now (from The Office), as he says, “I’m not robbing the cradle. If anything, I’m robbing the grave.”
And this, people, is going to have to be the blog post for tonight. I know that it’s dull. I know that it’s full of poor writing and sentence fragments, but I have a small boy who needs tucked into bed, but we must go over his spelling words first.
Naturally, he’s thrilled about that.
Happy Thursday night, people.