Hand Over the Chocolate and No One Gets Hurt!

I have a conference call coming up in a bit, for which I was feeling the need for a little emotional bolstering. These calls are just a huge annoyance wherein everything gets rehashed, but nothing moves forward and I just want to bang my head on my desk until I pass out. So despite my better judgment--led mainly by my emotions rather than my stomach--I headed for the vending machine to grab a little chocolate therapy.

I put in my coins, pressed the buttons to select the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and got the message "Please Make Another Selection." WHAT?!?!?! I can clearly see my Reese's sitting there waiting for me to free them from the clutches of the machine. I can already taste the peanut buttery chocolate goodness of them.

I try it again. Same message. Grrrrr! Foiled again! What's the deal?? Did my scale communicate with this machine about my increasing weight? Did it somehow know I had to change clothes twice this morning before I found something that didn't accentuate my ass?

These thoughts just made my need for chocolate increase. Instead of hitting the coin return, collecting my change, and slinking back to my office with a renewed determination to watch what I eat, I hit the select buttons for the Hershey's bar. Large size. But at least it has almonds. Those are healthy, right??

Maybe these vending machines really should start helping us out more. Perhaps there should be a scale we stand on as we insert our money. Based on our weight, the machine chooses for us. Those needing to drop a few pounds get the smaller portioned lower fat items. Those floating through life not having to care about what they eat get to actually choose what they want.

Or maybe we should have a code we input everytime we use the machine and it keeps track of what we're purchasing. That way when you get a "That's your third Giant Size Snickers today. Maybe you should take a walk instead" it just returns your money and won't let you have anything else.

But this also leads me to the evil that are candy manufacturers. Do we really need to purchase Extra Large or Giant sized chocolate bars? Does this not just lead to us getting fatter? Those of us who fill emotional voids with chocolate will purchase the candy no matter what the size. The bigger the bar, the more there is for us to shove inside. There's no such thing as eating part of it and saving the rest for later. We're dealing with emotions here, people!

And now I'm out of chocolate again. Dang! Thankfully I am also out of change.

The Work Never Ends

This weekend I decided to finish up a couple of rooms that needed painting. (This does not in any way mean I am finished painting, just marking two rooms off the list.) The first was Brad's former room, which he had started painting but didn't finish before he moved out. I didn't take pictures of the before and after, but the before was actually kind of cute--for a girl. Each wall was a different color--green, yellow, pink, blue and purple. Cute! Now, though, it's a pale shade of tan. Maybe someday I'll paint it something a little peppier.

The other room is the room I designated my guest room. Here's the before:



The big white square on the wall above the bed is where the previous owners had a shelf unit attached. Evidently they thought it was too much trouble to take it down when they sprayed the room blue. It wasn't so bad because I really like blue. But the bleeding stenciled butterflies and dragonflies gave me nightmares. There were even a few blobs that I think were supposed to be flowers. Stenciling is a cute idea, but only if it's done well.



The green I painted the room was kind of an easy choice--I found the gallon of paint on the mistint shelf at Lowe's for $5.00. Couldn't beat that! Here's the after:



The closet doors are still beset with drippy flies, but I plan to take the doors down completely and put up curtains. And yes, I know there are cat-themed pillows on the bed. I like cats and everyone I know takes that fact as a guide whenever they go gift shopping. So I have many many things with cats on them. The decor of this room is kind of tongue-in-cheek. After all, I'm 35, single, and own 3 cats. If you can't poke fun at yourself, where's the fun?

The quilt across the foot of the bed is one my grandmother made many years ago. I have several that I would like to decorate with. I'm hoping to find some way to hang one over the bed without damaging the fabric. And the lamp is a hobnailed milk glass one I found in an antique store here in town. I have two more I'm using in my bedroom. One was my grandmother's and the other I purchased in an antique store in Missouri. I love them, but my sister thinks they're ugly. Oh well. There's no accounting for her taste.

OK, I'm off to go dig out some more cat-themed items for this room. I know that stuff's in a box around here somewhere....

Is There Nothing Clooney Can't Do?

I was flipping through the onscreen guide the other night when I ran across this:



Now I admit to not having seen The Good German yet, but I'm pretty sure Clooney couldn't have played his own love interest. He's good, but not that good.

Sam Takes a Trip

So Sam has pretty much been a pain in the ass since the day he showed up at my door. He disturbs the peace, tries to be the dominant male, and even makes the other cats do his grooming for him. But every once in a while he has really sweet moments, like when he cuddles up in my lap and goes to sleep. At the very least, he's quiet for a little while.

Living in a tiny apartment with him was a nightmare. There just wasn't enough room. He started doing better once we moved into the house and he had the run of it and the backyard. He did even better during the short time we had a roommate. I guess he figured it just wasn't worth competing with a 6'3" guy for dominance, so I found him sleeping under the bed most of the time. But since Brad moved out, Sam's been reverting to his old ways--with added annoyances. First, he sprayed in the house. Ick! Smelly! Disgusting!! Then he started clawing the furniture. Then he kept me awake at all hours with his loud meowing. He never really wanted anything, he just wanted to know where I was at in the house.

So yesterday we took a little trip. To the vet. For a neutering. Usually I feel guilty leaving one of my pets at the vet's office, but by the time I dropped him off, I was ready to never return. He had me up at 5 am, crying because he was hungry. Well, too bad, you can't eat before surgery. By 5:30 I was ready to dump him on the porch at the vet's and say good luck to them all. He yelled in the car all the way to the vet, he yelled like there was no tomorrow when we got into the office. I managed to speak with the vet's assistant over his cries of protest, scratched him under his chin, said "Bye Samalama" and was out the door without looking back. His cries followed me all the way out the door.

Tommy, Turtle, and I spent a quiet night at home relaxing. But it was almost eerily quiet.

This morning I went and picked him up. See, I'm not a horrible cat dumper after all. I could hear the little devil coming. He was yelling all the way from the back. The guy who handed him to me just gave me a relieved look when I took him. Then he yelled at me all the way home. I just laughed at him, because who's the dominant one now, biotch?!?!

Poor kid, when I let him out of his cage when we got home, he walked funny all the way over to his food bowl. Then he tried to eat without sitting down. He spent the evening needing love, so we cuddled on the couch. This was the best behavior I've ever seen.

Here's the poor baby coming to term with his life change. He looks kinda depressed. All right, I feel a little guilty.