The Cubicle’s Backporch

Scene: MrC and I are discussing moving (yes, moving- OMFG)

Him: We’re getting rid of the chickens, right?

Me: NO.

Him: But we’re getting rid of the cats, right?

Me: NO!

Him: You know that we have reached a point where we have so many cats that when you tell people how many cats we have, they automatically assume we’re weird?

Me: What? What do you mean?

Him: You know exactly what I mean! We have 14 chickens, 3 dogs, 1 turtle, and 5 cats! As soon as people hear that we have 5 cats, we’re labeled as the weirdos!

Me: Just tell them that they’re all rescues! Then we’re compassionate!

Him: ::shaking head:: It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.

Hee hee.

I saw this on the Fugly Horse of the Day blog and thought it was funny.

AND cheaper, AND I bet your kids don’t like wearing bows on their ears. (Okay, mine don’t either, but they can’t figure out how to get them off. Yet.)

This is Molly (left) and Jolee after their grooming appointment where we had her shave them for the summer.

Thanks to everyone’s advice and ’sympathy’ (AHEM) regarding my last post about our new dog. (And I replied to the comments ON your comments- I’ll have to do that until I can get my e-mail issue figured out!) I thought I’d do a quick update.

Molly is doing better. She settled down and she and Jolee are now friends.

See? I iz cute, no evil.

She’s still not house-trained, but as long as we take her out every 30 minutes it’s not a problem. (Really- she’s quite the pisser) She’s also very protective of her chew-bones. Like she buried one under my pillow, one behind a dresser, and another one in a JCPenny bag. And if Jolee OR the cats go near her hiding spot, she chases them away.

But, other than that, she’s just as excited as Jolee to see us when we get home from work and she tolerates Jolee trying to play with her. Also, she’s not humping so much. Just maybe once a day or so. Maybe this will work out!

It’s My Turn

To be worried about my job that is. My company is laying off quite a few of the professional/exempt workforce (Hi my name is Jennifer and that includes ME). We’re supposed to find out next Thursday if we’re getting laid off. So that’ll be fun. (and by fun I mean suck ass) My boss is thinking about taking the early retirement offer (he’d get 9 months of pay!) which is sad b/c he knows a lot about the work and he’s an awesome boss. I had wanted to sponsor a family on the angel tree, but I’m trying to wait and see if I, ya know, have a JOB first.

After crunching numbers, things would be uber-tight if I did lose my job. I may have to sell my body work at W#l-M#rt just to have some income. So that means I better get my ass in shape work on my friendly personality. Maybe I should do some inner thigh workouts practice my smile. Or maybe even work on my technique. Ya know, for handing out stickers.

Keep your fingers crossed that this blogger doesn’t get kicked out of her cubicle. Then I’d be writing from the REAL Backporch. (Then I could be the Real Housewife Blogger from the Orange County Backporch!)

Let’s do bullets, shall we?

• So I brought the new dog, Molly, home last night. She’s a 5-lb shitzu. A Humane Society volunteer found her along the long driveway that leads to their shelter. She was all matted and they found her just sitting there. I was excited when I saw her b/c she seemed like the perfect playmate for our other dog, Jolee. Isn’t the picture above cute? Everybody’s trying to see who the new family member is (you can see the two cats and Jolee checkin’ her out). Well, let me sum up last night in a few short sentences.
  • Molly is supposed to be fine with other dogs: She growled, snapped, and lunged at Jolee (who outweighs her by 3 lbs, but who was terrified at this spitting demon)
  • Molly is supposed to be house-trained. She shit on the floor this morning.
  • Molly is a spayed female. She humps like Hugh Hefner in his younger days. She humped my leg, my hand, my arm… She humped me when I was standing up, sitting down, and walking.
  • SOMEONE drug shit out of the kitty litter box. Since Jolee has never done this (and the cats don’t usually play with their own shit), I’m leaning toward the demon dog.

I know it was just her first night in a new home, so I’m hoping for the best. But I paid $100 (yes, adopting her from the Humane Society cost me $100… well $95) for a dog that snarls at my baby, shits on the floor, and humps. What have I done?

• My new thing is to eat breakfast and just have a snack for lunch. I went to the vending machine for my snack (cookies, chocolate chip, soft, if you were wondering) and the little ‘arm’ that rotates to release the butt builders cookies didn’t rotate all the way around. So I sent the vending company an email asking when I can expect to get my $.70 back. And yes I will follow up. They’ve screwed me out of my last pocket change.
• After commenting on a blog, I realized that Mr. C and I are saving 26% of our take home pay. Granted, some of that will go toward lake house renovations, but yay! We’re all grown up and saving money!
• The best way to keep a clean house is to get a couple of kittens. If you leave the newspaper on the table, they will knock it off and play with it ALL NIGHT LONG. If there is a leaf drug in on a shoe, they will bat it around while you’re cooking dinner until you sweep the floor. A forgotten-about plastic Wal-Mart bag? Is now a LOUD play center. This intensifies if you’re trying to sleep.
• My friend, KFriend, is getting married. And I’m in her wedding. I’ve never been in a wedding, probably b/c either a.) I haven’t had female friends who I remained close enough to to be in their wedding, or b.) the friends I’m close with are shackers who don’t marry easily (JFriend and AFriend). So, I’m actually excited to be a part of her wedding. She’s also 4 years younger than me. So I’ll be the old un-married hag in her wedding party. Rock on.
• But back to the original point of the previous bullet. KFriend is getting married and her dress is amazing. Like beyond beautiful. Like I want to wear it. If I was her size (about 5′2″ and 100 pounds) I would so wear it when she wasn’t looking. Maybe I’ll stick my leg in it just to pretend. Who knows. The pictures are below of her wedding dress. Feel free to guess how much it cost. I was amazed.

I love it. I love it.

END BORING BULLET POINTS.

Before I had a dog, I would look at people who dressed their dogs up as dumb ditzy ass blondes. I mean, why would you put a dress on a dog?! A dress that the dog probably doesn’t even like?! It was cruel! It made you look dumb!

And then I got a dog.

This one in fact.

See the bow in her hair?! Tell me that’s not ADORABLE!

And all that changed. Suddenly, I thought she looked ADORABLE in faux fur coats. Just last week, I found this cute little western outfit in the clearance section at Wal-Fart. Since we always say that Jolee is a country dog, I HAD to get it for her.

Tell me she doesn’t look like she’s getting ready to start line-dancing.

Here she is, doing her ‘prairie-dog’ to see what Mr. C is cookin.

Luckily, she doesn’t hold it against us that we dress her up.

She loves us.

*Jolee is named after my middle name (Jo) and Mr. C’s middle name (Lee). She’s a pekepoo.

**Warning** This is a post about my cat.  

Jayda went from being an outside cat to an inside cat. She’s getting fat!

My cat, Jayda, is like a needy chick. Really. I think it’s because I got her as a kitten from the animal shelter and so she has that whole ‘I was abandoned as a kitten, woe is me’ complex going on.

While we were gone on vacation, I made sure that Mr. C’s dad knew to feed her every other day. I even dumped her litter box and gave her a whole box full of the expensive litter that she likes. I made sure that the auto-refill waterer was freshly filled and waiting for her. Oh yes. I took every step possible to make sure she’d be okay. So what does she do? She shits on the carpet. I know it was just a ‘I’m home alone, so I can do what I want’ behavioral type thing, but still! Her litter box wasn’t nearly full or anything, she was just acting out.

Then, every once in a while, she meows to go outside. It’s usually at night and she’ll come back in the morning or so, and all is well. But the majority of the time, she won’t come back until I call for her. Oh yes. I have to WANT for her to come home. 

So I’ll call and call… then I’ll hear a pathetic meow-ing from across the road and she’ll emerge, slowly walking around like she doesn’t care if she comes home or not. Then, THEN, she’ll stop in the middle of the road so that I have to go GET HER before she gets hit by a car or a horse-and-buggy depending on the day. And of course she’s meowing the whole time she’s in the road, like she’s a poor, poor cat that no one loves.

Summary?

Spend money on her and she shits on you r carpet.

She won’t come home unless she thinks she’s WANTED.

She’s totally high-maintenance.

Mr. C likes it when I put my pussy against the glass.

Jayda, watching Jimmy do the grass.

Damn perverts. Can you imagine me trying to get my leg up in the air enough to…. nevermind. Just nevermind.

Y not?

I have decided (in my typical decide-now-want-now) fashion that I want to join the YMCA. (It’s the only gym-type in our area) I want to be able to GO somewhere and workout. I want a basketball court. 

I told Mr. C that I would SO get up in the morning and we could both go work out before heading to work. (That means I’ll have to take a shower at the YMCA… *shudder*… I’ll deal with that when the time comes)

He doesn’t believe I would be willing to work out in the mornings, so I made him a deal. I have to get up early (weekdays) and workout for 10 days in a row, 20 minutes each morning.(Not including out-of-town mornings) Then we will join the Y.

This morning I only worked out for 10 minutes so I’m not sure if we’re counting this morning or not.

This may suck.

I stayed home sick yesterday.

I probably could’ve went to work, but I would’ve been pretty useless. And my boss is on vacation. It’s always easier to call in when your boss isn’t in the office. heh.

So it was just me and Jolee all day.

Jolee, our pekepoo.

I really just wanted a chance to post her picture. hee hee.

You rock my world, baby.

This morning, Mr. C got out of bed and I drowsily tried to get motivated enough to turn the TV on. Then all of a sudden the house starts shaking. Jolee starts barking and I say “Babe?” and he doesn’t answer. I start wondering what the hell is going on and think for SURE that the farmer who farms the land around us is going to run over our house with his big farm equipment. (I know, I know… I was tired) So then the house starts shaking even MORE and I yell “BABE?!” and then the shaking stops (but the lampshade keeps vibrating) and he pokes his head out of the bathroom and I say “DID YOU FEEL THAT?”. He said he saw the mirror shake. So I turn on the news and ends up there was a 5.4 earthquake in ILLINOIS that was felt all the way to Tennessee.

So all day the news has been talking about the earthquake and urging people to call in if they have earthquake damage.

An earthquake. In Indiana.

Crazy.