I went on a jog today. I use that word loosely, considering I do more of an uncomfortable and frantic waddle… like my nether-region fell asleep after sitting on a bicycle too long.  (Seriously… how do cyclists handle it?) But, I love that it’s getting cooler out, so I figured I’d just put my big girl panties on and get to it.

On the neighborhood paths around here there are always ducks, making it a priority for me to stuff bread into my pockets before I head out. I truly enjoy when I get to feed the ducks. It’s pretty embarrassing because it’s always me… surrounded by a bunch of toddlers. Usually, I sit and wait for people to leave, but today I was in a time crunch so I weaseled my way right in front of them. Hell, it’s not like they are going to remember it this one time, anyway. Nobody remembers shit from when they were 3.

But when I got to them they completely ignored me and my bread. What the hell? This leads me to an important question: since dogs can sense when someone is upset, is it possible ducks can sense when someone is crazy?

I’m thinking yes. I should probably just leave it to the kids from now on.


cat lady chronicles, tuesday trivia

Fun Fact: The FDA estimates that the average human unintentionally eats up to a pound of bugs a year.

yum… did someone say extra protein?

Also, it’s come to my attention today is National Black Cat Day in the UK. I’m from the US… but, I have a cat. She is black. So, I’m going to force y’all to look at a picture of her anyway. You’re welcome.


cat lady chronicles, marriage, rambles

I woke up yesterday feeling like I was upchucked by Satan… which, I can’t say I was too disappointed about. It gave me a legitimate reason to do nothing but be a lazy sack all day. Score! But, as I laid here in a mush of blankets with tissues corkscrewed into nose (sexy, eh?) I discovered two things:

  1. I never add pictures to my posts. What the hell?  That’s boring and something that needs to be changed.
  2. Too much cold medicine makes you do weird things.

So… here’s a picture of my husband trying to shove himself into a pet carrier.


Why, you ask? Because why the hell not.


I gotta say, I’m pleasantly surprised by how few domestic disputes I saw at the State Fair today. Good job everyone, let’s fight off those southern stereotypes. One fried food festival at a time…

conversations, rambles

If you feel the need to berate and make an employee cry just because their store doesn’t carry your beloved organic, sugar-free, no-crap-added cranberry juice you deserve to have your ass kicked. Seriously. Aren’t there more pressing things going on in your life than juice? If not, kudos to you. But come on, guys… it doesn’t cost anything to not be a dick to strangers. Or to walk your ass to the other end of the shopping center and go to Trader Joe’s. The majority of us don’t enjoy making or watching other people cry in public, so get your shit straight or order your stuff online and stay home. It’d be appreciated.

The Public At Large



Lately, I’ve been working hard to get my ass to jiggle a little less. And, you know, to avoid a heart attack or something. For the first time in my life I’ve actually enjoyed going to the gym. Until yesterday, when I face-planted mid sprint on a treadmill in front of fifty complete strangers.

Have any of y’all ever been to Planet Fitness where they have the “lunk alarm?” If you have no idea what I’m talking about — it’s an alarm the staff sounds off if there is a tool grunting loudly or dropping the free weights.

I was deep in the zone when the alarm sounded and, to be frank, it scared the shit out of me. It was the first time I’ve ever heard it so I spastically looked around to make sure there wasn’t an armed gunman. (This is America, after all. Gotta check for those things.) While in the process of sprinting & looking around, I lost my balance and fell face first onto the treadmill. The pain wasn’t the worst of it. I hit the woman next to me on the way down. Bit part of my lip causing it to swell twice its size almost instantly. Smashed my phone. And, to top it off, my shirt rode all the way up to my armpits. To a woman who’s new to the gym scene and trying to change her body… it was beyond mortifying.

I’ve started my day out today searching online for treadmill prices so I can run at home. Some of us shouldn’t be allowed to mix with the general population. For their safety and our own.

Do you have any embarrassing workout stories? Misery loves company!

tuesday trivia

Fun Fact: The Romans used their own urine to whiten their teeth.

It supposedly works. Don’t you feel like a fool for wasting all that money on teeth whitening products now?

tuesday trivia

Fun Fact: Jellyfish have been around for 700 million years despite not having a brain.

Some good news for all those stupid people in your life.


On Sunday it rained all day — which is really becoming a straight pain in the ass here in North Carolina. We planned to hang out with two of our young nieces, so we let them decide what we were going to do since our original outside plan was foiled. Their decision? Dave & Busters. Why? Last time they were there they saw a fake poop in the arcade that they couldn’t live without winning. Now, originally I was all for this and I thought playing a bunch of games would be pretty fun… even if the endgame was a piece of plastic crap.

Wrong. Wrong on all accounts.

Our Dave & Busters is in our mall. I didn’t take into account it would be full of parents that want to shop on weekends but not deal with their kids. So, of course the easy answer was to let the arcade babysit them. There were dozens of them. Everywhere. 50 unsupervised preteens? Hell… it’s hell, I tell you. I have a new found respect for teachers. Bless your poor, patient souls.

Even worse, it cost $65 to earn enough tickets for the poop.

I’m not sure who’s worse. The parents who let their rude, loud kids ruin an expensive arcade? Or me, for spending $65 on a fake piece of shit I could buy for $5 at a store?

It’s me. The answer is me.

cat lady chronicles, rambles, things that matter

ziggy the cat, cuddling pimp

Ziggy, our foster cat, has been dubbed the official “Pimp of Cuddling.” Of course, it didn’t take long for this guy to find a new home. He took a liking to females — whether it was human or cat.


He’s got more game than my husband. Okay. Not really. Shh


Although I know he’s found a great home, he is missed.