One Other Thing

A good thing, though: Uptown Hound has an operating bank account and we got our cute checks ordered yesterday, with the logo and whatnot all cutie-pootie on them. The website is almost finished, and the delightful and perfect Gina from ginagraphics is going to be doing our corporate collateral (fancy word for stationery, but whatever) very soon!

Now that I think about it, maybe putting up with the mouse is the price I have to pay for having other things go well. You take the good with the bad (and the ugly) and you keep on truckin', I guess.

Lou and I need to get empowered enough not to spend our evenings hiding from the mouse in the bedroom (clearly, because that's where the mouse wants to be, now! I'm going to buy another killing broom tomorrow, and have Rubbermaid containers ordered from Target coming tomorrow to house all my books and accoutrements until I get real mouse-proof storage). We need to reap the benefits of our good fortune and do some stuff! The tumor is coming out in the next two weeks or so, then there'll be no stopping me ... Lou, on the other hand, has no tumor, he's just lazy and spoiled. That's going to change, too! Later - j.

The Bitch is Back

No, not me, the mouse. I'm actually not sure if it's a bitch or a butch, but I do know that it's a bitch having to pound on the closet before I open it and having to map out the D-con placement every weekend. Why won't they leave me alone? I have no food in the house! Lou's dog food is in a mouse-proof plastic container! And yet, I am set upon, put upon and just generally tormented by their beady-eyed little scampering bodies. Yuckarooni.

Here's what happened -- I was cleaning the apartment, doing some purging of the piles of paper I have stacked (neatly) around the place, when I thought I saw Jack (the name for this new mouse, which is short for Jackass) run across MY BEDROOM floor. Now, had it been the kitchen, I might have been able to understand. But, my bedroom? Come on! There's no food in there ... or maybe it was the paper. In any case, you know how you think you see something out of the corner of your eye, but you're not sure? So, I chose to go with the "not sure", and continued on my merry way ... that is, until I actually saw the bugger run out from under my bed, get confused about the stacks I was working on in the middle of the floor, and high tail it INTO MY BEDROOM CLOSET. That's where I KEEP MY CLOTHES!

Now, the bad thing about this was that when I saw the mouse, I had an America's Funniest Home Videos moment, and I screamed in the back of my throat, jumped in the air, slipped on the stupid bamboo rug in the bedroom, fell, hit my head on the wall, and then scrambled up on wobbly legs so I could jump in the air some more. This whole time? Lou is laying on the bed looking at me like, "What the hell is wrong with you? I'm trying to sleep here." I ask myself why I love that dog, and the answer is, "Because you're crazy."

Imagine that I've posted here a picture of a mouse with devil horns. I can't make Flickr upload the photo, but it's a humdinger. And, the mouse is about to be a humdeader. I'll put the mouse pix up tomorrow. More good stuff later. P.O.Y. - j.

April 25, 2005

Wedding thoughts continue to plague me. I don't want to be married, to share, to put someone else's interests above mine ... do I? I mean, Lou is the sun around which my planet revolves, but maybe that's because I don't want him to poop on the floor. Anyway, whatever. It's too late to figger it out. Time fer bed. Later. P.O.Y. - j.

Twu Wuv

So, I went to a wedding this weekend. It's so sad that these events always make me feel I've done something wrong. Was it all that cheddar I ate and the resultant cheese gut? Is it my personalitiy? Is it my looks? My crazy hair? (It is bad, so I could understand, but I'm just saying -- it's not my fault that the "color your hair at home with salon results" promise is a lie). Anyway, it's never been my goal to be a married gal, but weddings always remind me that it'd be nice to be asked, you know? I can buy my own diamonds (they would be small and from Wal-Mart, but I could still buy them), so it's not the ring I miss ... I don't think. I mean, I don't smell -- well, I smell, but not bad, it's L'eau by Kenzo, for heaven's sake. Delightful. I can cook if I have to, I am, by all accounts, hilarious, and my wit has been described as rapier. Just propose, I won't make you go through with it.

Anyways, in other news that makes me look like a loser -- I cannot belive how much I missed my dog this weekend! I took him to the kennel on Thursday, because I had to fly out to the wedding at 6am on Friday morning. It was so weird to not have him staring at me with those hopeful eyes on Thursday night. "Please give me some of your supper". (Or, in dog, "Pleez giv mee sum ov ur suppr -- because they can't spell or type very well -- no thumbs). I didn't sleep well, because I'm used to him kicking me in the back all night when he's dreaming. That's kind of sad, but also kind of nice. He's a good pup. I'll be excited to pick him up (even if I have to pay a billion dollars to get him out of doggie-hock) tomorrow. I imagine he'll be glad to get back, too -- the place I boarded him (University Animal Hospital on 66th in Manhattan) seemed quite nice, but definitely not our style. We're down home, and they were seriously downtown. There were many tiny women with tiny dogs wearing tiny sweaters in the waiting area, and interstingly enough, even the privileged group in that waiting room speculated that Lou was a wolf. Poor Lou will be happy to get back to the ghetto and chicken bones he has come to love. I can't wait to see him.

Lastly, if anyone knows who broke into my home over the weekend and threw my dirty laundry around, left dirty dishes in the sink and just generally ignored the need to sweep the floor, let me know, because I'm sure I left it pristine and sparkly. Imagine my surprise when I got back to the filth. P.O.Y. - j.