the jmeoww diaries: V.16

Let's pretend for a moment that I didn't plan a grand return to blogging and then majorly fail. Let's also NOT pretend that you are here for any other reason than to hear about her. Because as much as I think about writing and getting back into the swing of things, the one thing that actually gets me to sit my butt down with the laptop that Justin bought me for this exact purpose — IS HER.

Her being JMEOWW Ann Gee-Dee. For those of you who may have stumbled upon this blog by accident, you are in fact reading about a cat. But not just any cat. A cat who howls like a toddler if I dare to use the restroom when I get home from work, rather than give her my undivided attention. A cat who does not settle down for the night until both of her humans are in their proper places on the couch. A cat who demands treats be placed in an old wrapping paper tube so she may be entertained. THAT CAT.

So, here we are. And how is she doing, you ask? Well, we think she is broken. Or that she is going through a phase that I have dubbed "mewburty." You know, puberty. But for cats. Even though she is fixed because for fuck's sake spay and neuter your animals you heathens.

We aren't sure if it is the El Nino or then sudden 85 degree weather, or that she is simply just aging; but she has been "off." And by "off" I mean she literally does not move off of her new spot on the couch. A cushion that will never return to its original form because since the day she discovered its comfort and perfection approximately two months ago she rarely leaves it. Very near to her spot on the couch is my spot on the couch, which means that I often get my head aggressively stroked by her tail (which is rarely at rest). And I get to listen to her cleaning her toe cheese which I feel like she knows irritates the shit out of me so she saves it until she is above my head.

It took her two years to find this spot and apparently she is never leaving it EVER.

Justin and I realized, just last night, that this is because from her cushion perch she can see most of the apartment, so she will always know where we are. It may also be due to the fact that my essential oil diffuser is near her watchtower and she HATES the essential oil diffuser even though I am obsessed with it and its also not my fault that our living room has so few electrical outlets that are accessible for my needs.

In addition to the not moving situation, her meow clock is broken. The meow clock typically sounds about 10 minutes before my actual alarm clock goes off and does not stop going off until I am up and out of bed feeding her (typically 3-4 alarm snoozes later). In the past few weeks she has rarely made her alarm clock appearance and when she does it is unusually polite. Like a gentle little meep meow instead of her usual desperate howl of starvation. On the weekends, however, the meow clock sounds approximately two hours too early (Justin has jmeoww breakfast duty on the weekend because we share parenting responsibilities like that). So when I wake up before her, I FIND HER ON THE COUCH PERCH. And she just looks back at me like, "Oh. Hey. Yea put some food in that bowl I'll get it later, no rush Ma!"Like she is suddenly some chill, non-neurotic rainman of an animal that is okay with casually being fed, like whenever bro. SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT YOU GUYS.

She's only happy when it rains. CORRECTION: She does not shut up when it rains
because she is the Paul Revere of rain, as if we couldn't tell what is happening outside.

So, perhaps she has the winter sads or just the plain old lazies. Perhaps the couch really is just that comfortable (I mean, I have been known to fall asleep on it 4-6x per week). But as long as we are all in the living room at the same time, all is well and she can return to her couch perch. Oh, and as long as there is an ice cube in her water, she is fine. Also as long as the bathroom door is open while you use the toilet, she is fine. MEWBURTY, you guys.

the jmeoww diaries: V.14

I know you all are wondering about Justin and I and the wedding and everything that has happened since. But I really know that anything that has happened in our lives is far less interesting than anything that has happened in hers...

It's totally okay, I accept that you all are here for her. While she did not actually make it to the wedding, she was there in spirit in the form of cardboard cutouts at the photobooth. She was a hit, as always.

Probably the next biggest thing to her unofficial marriage to Justin was moving to a new apartment. The entire process of finding a place, packing, moving, and unpacking is incredibly stressful for the humans. But for the meoww, she has her own story to tell.

Justin and I both had requirements for our new apartment. Must have a washer and dryer. Must have A/C. Must feel like a castle. And so on. But the one qualifier that got us the oddest looks from the apartment managers was an enclosed patio on the second floor. For our cat. A CATIO, if you will. Imagine us telling eight different apartment managers that their patio/balcony was in fact not good enough for our cat. We knew that for our sanity and hers, she needed to go outside in a safe, enclosed space. She had spent nearly three years expending pent up energy and anger out on that patio and also creeping out the neighbors. She LOVED that patio. And the thought of taking that away from her made us feel like terrible humans. So our new place would have to have a catio.

Well, turns out human needs trumped hers for once and she did not get the perfect catio. There is a small balcony, but it is concrete rather than fencing or railing and we imagined we could make it work. We will build a weather-proof cat tower that is tall enough for her to see the world! We will make this work and feel like less terrible humans!

But we haven't needed to build said dangerous cat tower because this glorious apartment has one thing that our old place didn't have for her: WINDOWS. The cave that we previously lived in had a sliding glass door and two bedroom windows that were blocked by our TV and dresser. But this castle? ALL THE WINDOWS. She can see the world from the air-conditioned indoors and peep on the neighbors just fine! Windows completely eliminated the need for the actual outside world. And us humans could feel a little less guilty.

The one tiny hangup with this perfect situation? Her fatass didn't know how to jump up on windowsills. Three months later, you guys, she still takes a spill every now and then and I die. Just die. Her intial attempts at getting up on the windowsill involved jumping straight up and using her claws to cling on to the ledge and just hang there while I scrambled to try to get a photo. Which was great for the new coat of paint. Then she learned she needed to launch all 14-pounds of her bad self up and onto the ledge but at the right speed as to not slam her face into the glass. I TRIED TO FILM IT, I DID. It was quite possibly my favorite part of moving. Jmeoww learning how to use windowsills, who would've thought.

Justin just discovered this picture on his phone and I can't stop cackling about it. It could not be more perfect.

To ease her troubles a bit her non-legal husband Justin decided to purchase yet ANOTHER piece of cat furniture which he said he would never have in his home. A nearly four foot tower that is her vessel of relaxation but also used for creeping on the neighbors. You guys I swear 6 nights a week she is up in the tower either watching us or watching the neighbors. I legitimately thought the neighbors were going to complain because she just. sits. there. And she doesn't just sit. She loooooounges. Full meow relaxation in her queen tower. Limbs poking out of the climbing hole, leg stretched out over the side. Sometimes she clings to the edge and looks down like she has never been up that high ever. And every now and then she gets in an epic battle with her tail or the tower or both. And we will pause the TV to watch it play out, because marriage.

So basically, jmeoww's life has been pretty darn great. Her only complaint is that we aren't in the same room with her at all times, and also where are the kibbles?

Until next time, jmeoww fans!

"something tells me you've already had lots of candy."

Ah, Halloween. As a grown-ass adult, I choose to celebrate Halloween on a non-school night. Can we just vote that Halloween officially move to the last Saturday in October? Thanksgiving doesn't have an official date attached to it. Am I right?!?

How unimportant was the above rant? Moving on. We celebrated this past Saturday as Tony Stark and his executive assistant, Pepper Potts. I know, the most non-costume costume ever. But I promise you that we put a whole hell of a lot of thought into it. Because it is surprisingly hard to find douchey enough sunglasses to be RDJ worthy. And Justin even shaved his beard into that miraculous Stark goatee which he really wanted to keep until I threatened his life. Balls or goatee, you can only choose one.

You may have noticed a guest star in our photo. Posing. Actually posing. We set up the camera on the bar with a self-timer and this was about our third try. I knew that she had ran back there and collapsed. I did NOT realize that she was going to smize the shit out of the camera. This is however, the closest we got to a costume this year. I know, I know. I am greatly disappointed too. But the swollen scratches on my ankles were the final caution that I needed.

Have fun tonight, kids. Keep all of your b's covered (to refresh: boobs, butt, bagina) and don't take candy from strangers.

a short story.

As I was sitting at the computer desk in the bedroom, Justin and Jmeoww were running around as they normally do. Okay, maybe Justin wasn't running. Rather he was distracting her away from my enticing skin meat that she likes to attack while I do computer things.

As they rounded the corner into the living room, I heard an all too familiar fart sound. But I brushed it off because, MEN. 

But then I hear, "JMEOWW! Was that you?!?"

And I think to myself, cats can't fart like that. So then I say out loud, "No it wasn't her, cats can't fart like that. They literally do not audibly fart. DID SHE JUST AUDIBLY FART?"

"Yea, babe. She totally did!" followed by and appropriate yet suspicious amount of laughter. I repeated my question at least nine more times and because the answer was the same, I was convinced that my cat audibly farted.

At this point I peeked my head into the living room to investigate said audible fart because I found it all too hilarious and unbelievable. And what do I find but that Justin giggling like a child who just audibly farted and blamed it on the cat and successfully convinced me that said cat was capable of audibly farting.

We are adults and this is our life. I kind of love it.

getting my goop on.

After seeing Gwyneth "Goop" Paltrow's abs in Ironman 3 I decided that I really needed to get my shit together. And what better way to do so than to turn to Pepper Pots' trainer extraordinaire, Tracy Anderson. I browsed some of her dvds on Amazon and decided on the Mat Workout because I figured it would involve mostly laying on the ground, which I can totally handle. I didn't take the extra time to actually research what in fact her method is because if Gwyneth can do it I totally can do it. Totally.

Well it turns out that THE METHOD is largely dance based. And, while I'd hate to shock you all, I am not what you would call "a dancer." Also, it turns out that there was a lot of standing involved and a lot of really intense movements and I totally understand why this method works — if you do it Tracy's 4-6 recommended times per week. FOUR TO SIX. Here is a sample of my favorite part, also known as the part in which I just decided to start wildly waving my arms around because it made more sense to me that way.



As I started the warm-up segment, I quickly learned that working out at home wasn't really the best idea I'd ever had. Because as soon as I was bent-over and reaching towards the ground to stretch, this black furry monster comes flying at me claws-out. Did jmeoww really just attack me as I am trying to go Method? Yes, OF COURSE she did. Once I brought out the chair for the leg segment it was game over because it was the perfect place for her to not only sit and silently judge me, but also attack me with her dainty paws through the chair rails.

Turns out this was the least of my problems. For the arm segment that uses weights, my dearest Tracy uses 3-pound weights. Well shit and a half I only had 5-pound weights at home. And because I'm fully capable of using at least 12 pound weights in a normal workout, I did not listen to her warning that I could injure myself.

And to no one's surprise, I did in fact injure myself. Which led to a sprained wrist that I am kept wrapped for a few days so that I remembered that I had a sprained wrist — not in fact, to be dramatic or to welcome inquiries from strangers. You don't know me, or my wrists so please do not ask me what happened.

The Method has been placed on hold until I can get my weak hands on some 3-pound weights and can get some professional dance training. I guess I will be returning to the gym like a normal, uncoordinated person. That's what Gwyneth would do, right?

aggressive cuddle time!

Day 9 - A moment in your day.

No, jmeoww. I didn't want to be in the picture at all.

One of my favorite times of the day is when Justin and I are relaxing, usually watching TV, and this thing decides it is time for cuddles. She can't just curl up next to us, or in between us. It has to be ON my chest all up in my face. Yes, this is a daily occurrence. Luckily it only lasts for 5 minutes or less. How do I know it is over? The biting begins and she darts. So much love in that little brain of hers. It gives me severe giggles every damn time.

Meowpocalypse Now.

It is time, my friends. Time for YOU to tell us (Queen Jmeoww Consuela Gee & Tiff Gee) about your pet disasters. We are not here to diagnose your troubles. We are simply here to laugh at with you and revel in the fact that we are not alone.

So, please grab our button. Remember, all pets (EVEN BIRDS) are welcome. We would appreciate a follow and would also like you to make some new friends/support group members.


<center> <a href=" http://polkadottedcats.blogspot.com "><br /> <img src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b364/starlette425/meowwpac_button.jpg" border="0/><br /> </a></center>
And what kind of story do we have for you on this momentous day? The story of our Meowpack.
What in the ever-living-hell is a meowpack, you ask? Think of a wolfpack, and swap out the wolves for cats.  There is a clear leader in a pack, and then those that are less and less dominant.
Well guess who falls at the bottom of our meowpack? Me. The female human. The female who rescued a tiny black kitten from a life on the streets. The female who single-mothered her for months and who is still the target of aggressive early morning face cuddles. 
How do I know that I am the lowest member of the totem pole? So glad you asked!

• When just her and I are awake in the morning and she does her business, she doesn't bury it. She metaphorically shits on me. I thought she just regressed back to being an asshole kitten, but shortly after I realized this was happening this video was released. It is science. The science of dominance. Keep that in mind when you are trying to put someone in their place.

• She still tries to kill me. Yes, I am being dramatic. But when she wants to play or just wants attention, if I walk by her she will claw and bite the shit out of my legs. And she doesn't back down. I've been trying to "challenge" her with it lately, but shit she is tough to intimidate. My ankles are consistently covered in scratches. If I don't let her claw at my flesh, she lets out this guttural meow like I am denying her some great pleasure. 

• And the most obvious sign that I am the weakest meowpack member? These things never happen to Justin. Of course not! Why would she make her precious secret eye-blinking Justin smell her morning constitutional while he brushes his teeth? And obviously her beloved's ankles are too perfect for scarring. No, he does not deserve such abuse.

This is the boss of me.

And that is the current state of our Meowpack. My hope is that we will return to the natural order of things, soon. Meaning I am in charge of everyone, obviously.

Meowpocalypse: The Link-up

Friends. Fans. Lovers. Today is a big day.

Today is the day we (Queen Jmeoww Consuela Gee and Tiff Gee) invite you to share YOUR stories with us. We have entertained you with our antics for nearly a year now and while therapeutic, we can only handle so much.

This is your chance to shine. Do you have a cat that is a complete terror? That pees itself or requires sedatives to visit the vet? Do you have a dog that eats trash, underwear, or other non-digestable items? Or a hedgehog that is just a complete asshole? Llamas are also welcome.

Next Thursday, May 2nd we will share our stories in one safe place. And all hold hands and remember that sometimes our pets are the boss of us whether we like it or not.


<center> <a href=" http://polkadottedcats.blogspot.com "><br /> <img src="http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b364/starlette425/meowwpac_button.jpg" border="0/><br /> </a></center> *Open to pets of all kinds, EVEN BIRDS. Linkup will go live Thursday, May 2nd.*

Whoopsies.

Hi there. Consider this a fail post. I was too busy drinking all of the wine at a wine tasting party and eating all of the cheese at said party to do a proper Friday summary for you. So instead, I present you this:

That spectacular photoshop job was done by none other than Justin, available for hire! Come to think of it, he should've photoshopped his head over Christoph Waltz, because I mean that is how those two roll. 

Be kind to each other, yea? Cheers to the weekend!

12 of 2012

The Twinsies turned 21.

Ran/Walked my first 5k with Leeann & Kathrin 

Visited NOLA with Leeann.

This.

Went to 9 million (six) weddings.

Met one of my heroes.

VEGAS.

Shared some tender moments with the meoww.

Blessed a chipmunk.

Moved in with jmeoww's boyfriend. 

Cleaned & stuffed a turkey. And then washed my hands 87 times.

By far my favorite photo(s) of 2012, marking the end of a dramatic
Nicholas Sparksian story and the beginning of true romance
and cheesy photo captions like this.

A Very Meowwy Christmas.

Welcome, one and all, to a very special holiday edition of The JMEOWW Diaries. Life has been incredibly crazy and overwhelming as of late, so what could be better than some ridiculous cat photos full of holiday cheer?

Cats and Christmas go hand-in-hand. Like bunnies and Easter. Jack and coke. Water and electricity. All my cat ladies out there, you know what I mean. The trees, decorations, wrapping paper, tissue paper, bows, electrical cords. We are creating a winter wonderland for our little furry friends. And while I find it hilarious, it is quite destructive and annoying. This was us last year:

I eventually gave up at just let her occupy the tree and destroy the ornaments. It was too much, and also hilarious. This year she has been much, much better. Probably because she is a fat and too big for our fake tree. Also because since moving in with her boyfriend she has developed some actual manners. She hates to disappoint her Justin, she really does.

Although I miss the giggles that come along with tree destruction, we still have Kousin Khloe to fill that hole in our lives:

And if it wasn't for this, I'm sure my sister would've sold her to the gypsies by meow:

I told you she was crazier than me. But you know who is even crazier?

The owner of this little shithead. This little ocicat has been harassing me via text lately. How, you ask? He has an extra toe. Obviously.

And with that, I think this counts as my first random Wednesday...

Thoughts from a sick mind.

Not like "sick and twisted" mind. An ill mind. In case you haven't heard, there is a blogger plague going around. Shannon started it. Shanna has it. I has it. Anyone else out there?

It took me a day and a half to admit I was sick. It's just allergies! Tiff, you're sick. Wow, the rain kicked up so much pollen and my ALLERGIES! Really, what happened was that Justin asked if we could go clothes shopping for him this past weekend and I wasn't going to let some wimpy head cold stop that. Besides, I had a coupon!

So here we are, day 4 of the most pathetic head cold ever. I don't get sick. I DO NOT. I get weird ailments. As in, recurring skin disorder that took doctors most of my life to figure out. The food poisoning/salmonella. The mystery flank pain that has been bothering me since August. But normal sick? I don't know what to do with myself.

Here are some of the intriguing thoughts that have been floating around my head for the past four days.

• Kleenex with lotion. A dream for the nose. Everything else though? Not so much. My hands, hair, and face are begging me to lay off the tissues. The snot in my nose would disagree.
• Being sick means I can eat whatever I want. Like jalapeno beer cheese soup in a bread bowl. Chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. And a chocolate shake and waffle fries from chik-fil-a. Oh, and chocolate milk with Kahlua. 
• I can turn into a 4-year old in three seconds or less. Especially when I want Mexican food for dinner. I didn't win that one.
• Cough drops taste good.
• Downton Abbey is THAT GOOD. Okay, I'm only on episode two. But you know how people who watch Mad Men and Breaking Bad say that you don't understand until you watch it? Well I watch those so I already understood. But Downton Abbey, I was like pssssht whatever have you seen Mad Men? Now I know.
• Meowws are good caretakers, for very brief moments. You may have seen these precious moments floating around instagram. With the exception of the 2-hour nap she took on me during The Artist, these aggressive cuddles/attempted strangulations last just a few intense minutes. I get the sense that she does it because she knows it is her meowily duty to comfort me. Even reluctantly.
• Justins are also very good caretakers. Which made it so much easier for me to finally give in to the sickness. Even though it's just really bad allergies.
  
  
  

And that's the best I can do. It is time for more NyQuil and more delicious cough drops. Stay healthy, blogland.

Here's what you missed.

So many fantastic Tiffany and JMEOWW moments happening during The Great Move of 2012. You'll notice that I'm not listing any ridiculous Justin moments. Because, well he was a saint and gracefully put up with all of the madness. Seriously though, I moved 20 miles. You'd think I moved to Greenland. Here are some highlights:

• I cried over a stick. A moss-covered, decorative stick that Justin said shouldn't go on the coffee table and then I cried. And then he put it on the coffee table and it looked awful, just as he said it would. Stick has been relegated to the patio for now.

• I called potential furniture buyers from craigslist murderers via text message. I had this not so irrational fear of being alone while people were coming to look at my furniture because, MURDER. Justin couldn't make it down one night and after the couple left I was telling him how nice they were and in the second text I said, "They didn't even try to murder me!" Except I somehow sent it to them. The non-murderers who were to purchase my couch. It really was a compliment....and they still bought my couch. Nicest murderers ever.

• JMEOWW attacked a groomer and I will probably never step foot in Petco again. But cats groom themselves, stupid Tiffany. No shit. But if cats could rid themselves of fleas then I wouldn't have had any problems. Hence, a professional flea bath. And a talon trim. And cue JMEOWW hissing and lunging at the groomer when she tried to remove her from the kennel to brush her.
  
  Now, I believe that said groomer was just kind of a wimp. Because all I did was walk back there and grab her by the scruff of her neck and shove her in her carrier. Toughen up, cat groomers. Either way, it was embarrassing and we can never go back there.

J's moving day. She was beyond thrilled.

• JMEOWW lived in a box spring for the first few days in her new home. INSIDE. As in, she tore a hole in the bottom of the box spring and set up camp in there.
  
  The day that the box spring was to be removed and put in storage, she refused to exit said box spring. Flat out refused. As Justin said, we probably set her adjustment level back an entire week. Which may explain her new routine of waking us up at 6:30 a.m...

She will make a home out of anything, including storage boxes.

• I decided to start calling Justin roommate & roomie. He better not eat my food...EVER.

With the exception of the dreaded task of cleaning the old place (which is literally collapsing, by the way...) we are officially cohabitated. And we couldn't be happier (unless we got to sleep past 6:30 a.m.).

Happy Meoww-lloween!

Dracula-meoww would like to wish you all a very Happy Halloween! We only have Shannon and the Bungalow Cats to blame for this.

I love this picture of Justin positively reinforcing the costume wearing. "I don't think she likes it," he says. "She was born this way," I say. 

Okay, maybe she doesn't *love* it. But a vampire without a cape is like a halloween without cat costumes and I can't live in a world where either one of those things happen.

The JMEOWW Diaries V.5

Welcome, fans of the queen beast. I am delighted to report that my precious monster seems to be growing out of her incredibly violent phase and is now only slightly violent, sometimes. With age comes wisdom, and also apparently hunting skills.

San Diego has been experiencing a disgusting and horrifying influx of grasshoppers. Which I confuse with crickets, and also dragons. They are awful. It is the second sign of the apocalypse, as far as I'm concerned. The first is the never ending 90-degree temperatures.

One night JMEOWW somehow enticed a disgusting grasshopper to enter my apartment by squeezing under the screen door. Then all hell broke loose. My sister and I started screaming. Justin started laughing. And J started running and meowing and had no idea what the fuck she was doing. Worst hunter. Ever. Every time the grasshopper jumped, we screamed, she meowed and he laughed. It was ridiculous. I was begging, begging Justin to kill it but he got all alpha and was like, NO WOMAN. SHE MUST LEARN HOW TO KILL PESTS. In this weird Thor voice.

I said fine but if she eats it, I'm disowning her. But I had little to worry about at that moment because my moronic cat could not even find the damn thing. Again, worst hunter in the entire world. Of course Justin helped her because he has some sort of death wish. When she finally caught it and had it in her mouth, part of my soul died. My little meoww was now a murderer (with evidence. not just alleged.). But it's good because she will rid the house of pests. That is probably what Charles Manson's mother said too.

The rest of the night she was on high alert. GRASSHOPPER? No, stupid. It's your shadow. You ate the grasshopper.

GRASSHOPPER? Ugh, NO. That was the wind blowing.

On a scale of 1 to the RHONJ, we are at about Guidice levels of intensity in my apartment between faux-grasshopper sightings and laser whining. Just wait until the move. I should schedule her counseling session now.

Black is Beautiful.

So. Did you know it is "Adopt-a-Less-Adoptable Pet" week? Now just what does that mean?

What. In. The. Hell.

Now, I realize that for many reasons my beloved animal is less desirable than other animals but I would've never thought it was because of her fur color!

Okay, wait. Let's go back in time. When I was adopting Le Meoww from her tiny little feral litter, I wanted the fuzzy gray runt. But my bestie so kindly talked me into getting TWO UNDERAGE KITTENS. All I kept saying was I don't want a black cat. But I walked out of there with a fuzzy gray runt (moment of silence for the good doctor) and a feisty shiny black kitten. And then one of them pooped in the box and then the other one did and I wanted to throw them out the window.

After we lost the good doctor to murder tiny-meoww-illness, I took Miss J to the vet. They had asked me her details over the phone so when we arrived, the vet techs died from her cute and said, Awww she's not ugly at all for a black kitten! And like a defensive mother I was like, what the fuck are you bitches talking about? Don't you dare talk about my baby like that!

Maybe she had the crazy eyes...but I wouldn't call her ugly.

Anyways, I'm not sure if there was a real point to this post. Beyond the fact that this ad campaign sent me into a fit of giggles that spiraled for hours on end. Which is the opposite of what was supposed to happen.

ps - I just realized that maybe people don't want black cats because of bad luck. To that I say grow-up, magic-believers.

pps - If they would market the one-eyed cats as "Pirates," I'm sure they would have better luck.

ppps - I'm not completely heartless. I would adopt some of these in an instant if I could. Except for the olds because who wants one of those! (totally kidding...)

I'm a Man Who Discovered the Wheel

Hello Polka Dotted Cats Readers! I am Justin. Yes that Justin. For those of you who don't often frequent the PDC, I'm the boyfriend of the beautiful and talented blog owner. Also known as the goofy dude with the five-head who knows a good opportunity to suck up when he sees it.

Me, in my more glamorous single days.

So you may be asking yourself, why am I reading this and not my daily dose of Tiffany? Well, the other day she expressed some fatigue with keeping up with her posting regime this week. Although I suspect foul play courtesy of the devil cat - perhaps some slow poison or something in Tiff's breakfast each day to dull her wits so devil cat can escape - I figured I'd let it slide for now (I'm watching you, Jmeoww) and offered to do a guest post.

After pondering what I could write about that might possibly be of interested to all of you, it occurred to me that it would be difficult to offer up any observations or witticisms that would be well received if you, her dear readers, don't know much about me. With that in mind I decided to put together a brief write-up via the ten questions James Lipton asks his guests on Inside the Actors Studio. Which incidentally are based on the Proust Questionnaire, something I learned five minutes ago when I Wikipedia searched this in an effort to look intelligent.

Anyway, why something so random? Well, among other things, I'm a film geek. (Yes, there are different varieties.) That and it's a fairly easy way to break the ice while still coming across as relatively intellectual. Again with that. I swear I don't have a complex. Are you catching this musk though? That's the smell of desire. ...Ahem. Moving on.

1) What is your favorite word? - Sugar. Wait- beer. Hold on, is this about food? 

2) What is your least favorite word? - "Unfortunately" said slowly in a southern drawl. 

3) What turns you on? - Self-deprecating humor and a killer smile. 

4) What turns you off? - Ignorance, vegetables, and improper use of you're. 

5) What sound or noise do you love? - When Tiffany says "mmm-hmmm". She has this amazing way of sounding more sincere, enthusiastic, and freakin' adorable than anything I've ever heard. 

6) What sound or noise do you hate? - Jmeoww's battle-cries. Just kidding, baby! ...Crunching metal. Like a car crash twisting up metal sound. 

7) What is your favorite curse word? - Goddamnedmotherfucker. It's one word when I say it. 

8) What profession other than your own your own would you like to attempt? - Painter. Like the goatee sporting douche-bag artsy canvas painter (minus the goatee and douche-baggery), not the dude who paints houses. Ask Tiff about my breakfast brainstorm a few weeks ago. I'll be rich I tell you. RICH! 

The type of art I will create.

9) What profession would you not like to do under any circumstances? - Undertaker. Dead guy preparer, not wrestler, which despite my better half's secret love is pretty high up on the no list also. 

10) And lastly, if heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates? - "Don't worry dude, you atheists are actually the only ones who make it up here."

And there you have it! Since I'll never be a famous actor on that show this is the closest I'll get to feeling as if I have an audience learning what my answers are. So thank you, James Lipton, for having me. And for developing your delicious tea. And thank you all, random acting student audience. It's been real. I feel like we all got to know each other really intimately.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll just be blasting off in my futuristic jetpack to return to my floating diamond mansion in the sky.

What? That's how they live, right?

Photo 411 linkup!

The lovely Erin of Shades of Gray and a Pinch of Pink is hosting a really fun photo linkup and I love me some photos. I am taking this opportunity to make a fool of myself because some of the ones I found are hilarious. Let's get to the shitshow!

#1 My Little Tyke Self

If you've ever wondered if the "bitchface" was a lifelong thing, here is your proof. And no, I sure didn't have enough hair for a ponytail until I was 4-years old. Thanks a lot, genetics.

#2 My High School Self

Post braces shot. Can you tell I was excited? And who in the hell ever let me cut or dye my hair?!? It hasn't looked like this in years!

#3 My College Self

This is the part of the photo tour in which I logged into my photobucket account that I haven't used since MySpace days and then I peed my pants. Because I was such a piece of work, I'm giving you two photos as my punishment for acting like such an asshole.

You guys, I legitimately wore those sunglasses out in public. Not to mention, at night. And then on the right we have the Emo Tiffany Phase which was awesome. This was not only when I discovered emo music, but also antidepressants. Thanks for the memories, 2005.

#4 My Right Now Self

Drunk, silly, and happy is how you will find me most of the time now (okay maybe not drunk most of the time, that actually sounded pretty awful). I've been having my moments of anxiety and stress, but overall you will find me giggling and being a total dumbass in a good way. Happy Tiffany is an even weirder Tiffany and you know what, I like it! I also really like my eyeshadow in this picture.

#5 My Furry Friend

Oddly enough I know someone who is actually a furry and I thought about posting his picture but I didn't want to give you all nightmares. Luckily, Erin clarified to use a PET so be sure to thank her for that. This bitch needs no introduction. Here she is blocking my access to food. She is slowly killing me.

#6 My Manly Friend

I didn't ask for his approval for this photo but I don't care because I love it. SO THERE. This be the man that makes me smile. So much. I cancelled my cable subscription to save some money so I was missing out on a lot of the Olympics which I obsess over. And you know what this guy did? He bought me an antenna so I could get NBC to watch the Olympics. Now if he could only assassinate the commentators...

#7 Where I Once Lived

Chino, California y'all. Okay, this is actually Chino Hills which is considerably nicer than regular Chino where I grew up and where my parents still live and one time their neighbors had a chicken coop in the backyard. In the suburbs. On a non-smoggy day we do have a lovely view of the San Bernadino Mountains, which Chino and the rest of the Inland Empire sit below. It's not an awful place like The OC made it out to be.

Image via chinohillsestates.com

#8 Where I Live Now

University Heights neighborhood of San Diego, California. How cute is that sign? On both sides there is an ostrich, which is apparently our city mascot which is wonderful because one time I dressed up as an ostrich. I LOVE this little neighborhood. I am a block away from the main strip which is home to a liquor store with one of the best beer selections in San Diego, an awesome bar with one of the best beer selections in San Diego, a fancy little cocktail bar, and my favorite dive bar in the entire world.

#9 What I Love

I love this picture and moments like this. It explains everything that is wrong but yet so right with my family and friends.

#10 What I Miss

These little monsters (nephew & niece) and my godchild. Life has been incredibly busy and isn't letting up any time soon. I miss having so much extra time to spend with the kiddos. But that makes the times I do get to see them even more special.