I'm a quote-a-saurus

Day 4, Saturday: Favorite quote (from a person, from a book, etc) and why you love it

I am a chronic quote collector. Big, little, strong, or simple reminders of things tend to resonate deeply with me and I never want to forget these things. For today, I held back and chose just one.

And I refuse to elaborate because the profoundness will be lost.

Now go have a real Saturday.

Um, a double post. hi!

So in order to catch up, and also to avoid abusive text messages from SOMEONE whose name rhymes with CLAY, I am double-posting.

Day 3 – Things that make you uncomfortable.

Whooooa, boy. Hi, have you met me? Double-blog posting makes me uncomfortable, for starters. Let's just make a damn list...

Farting in front of Justin 

Unintentional racism

Men with too short of shorts 

Crowds

Finances

Homeless people

Male Strippers

Nipples

Balls

I'm not just listing body parts, I swear

Nasty rap lyrics (but I will sing them)

Correcting people (Hi, core job function!)

People that are unaware of their body odor

Mouth-breathers

Talking about exes

Telling people to get their shit together

Should this have been alphabetical?

Asking for help

People celebrating/acknowledging me

Babies

Small people in general

Prolonged eye contact

Canned chicken

And I think that is all. I hope that is all. Forgetting things also makes me uncomfortable. 

Too much about me...but for us.

If one of your favorite people in the world challenges you to do something that can only better yourself, you should probably do it. Especially if it gives you the opportunity to learn so much more about your friends, and if it challenges you to push your normal writing boundaries. Learning. Feelings. Writing. That is what blogland should be about. And also cats.

Because of this, I am going to try my best to participate in this...



Will I hit every day? Probably not. I mean I already missed two days and will be making up for it. Will it annoy the hell out of you? Most likely. I don't mind if you don't want to read more about me. Because, frankly, I don't even like writing about me that much. HENCE THE CHALLENGE.
Ahem. Without further hesitation...The May 1st challenge was "your life story in 250 or less." 

The Story Of Tiff Gee, as told by Tiff Gee.

My dad thought I was a boy when I was born. I was such a quiet child that my mom used to tell me to TALK LOUD LIKE THIS. I am my mother’s middle-birth so I consider myself a middle-child even though there are 4 of us. I was a really intelligent kid, “gifted” if you will. Also tall, lanky, and brace-faced. And really shy so people assumed I was a snob. Whatever. The town I grew up in was not necessarily small but lacked great career opportunities, unless you want to work at a dairy. Sorry if you work at a dairy. I moved to San Diego for college and lived alone in a studio on the back of someone’s property. It was weird and once I thought I was getting mugged and ran down the street. The nice man apologized for scaring me. I got a job at SeaWorld, my dream employer, when I was 19. Age 20 was the first time I thought I lost my mind. I asked my doctor for pills so that would never happen again. It still occasionally happens. My early to mid-twenties were wrapped in the relationship that I thought I was supposed to have, and by my late twenties I left said relationship because I wanted to. After two years of failed reconnections with exes, an inappropriate amount of alcohol, a feral cat adoption, and many, many tears things came together. I crashed a company Christmas party and smiled at Justin. And he smiled back.

254. Almost nailed it.

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.

living the college life.

During the big move of 2012 one of the most painful things for me to sell was my couch. It was perfect for me — a little mid-century and ridiculously comfortable. But, Justin's couches were in better shape (ish) and fit his apartment better so I said goodbye to my old friend. We agreed that we would purchase a couch that we both loved.

And so we did. About three weeks ago we found a dreamy sectional with an island of an ottoman. I even got to choose the fabric for the pillows that came with it because the tacky-ass pillows that come with sofas were going to be my nightmare. In three to five weeks we would have our new dream couch.

This meant that we needed to sell Justin's couch. Which he did. Nearly a week-and-a-half ago. I don't blame him because we were lucky someone wanted to buy it at the price he listed it for. However, this was the definition of TOO SOON, BRO. We spent a few days trying to build a couch out of pillows, and this past weekend we gave in and went full white trash and blew-up our air mattress. Our living room currently looks like a college dorm room. I secretly love it, and so does this creature.

It's like we finally got her a bed that suits her properly.

Although the new couch comes with pillows, I want more. And I want new lamps. And new everything. Because that is how purchasing new furniture works — like buying a new dress, but then needing shoes to match as well as jewelry and a new bag. And you might as well get your nails painted while you're at it!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Meowpocalypse begins at midnight. Will you be there?