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so i poisoned myself with a bavarian smokie. so what? like you have never made bad food choices. sorry. i’m a little grouchy due to the preservative-coated poison that still seems to flow through my veins. i know i should know better. when you eat hotdogs because their due-date is the day you are contemplating eating them, you have made a bad decision. other bad decisions i have made lately: to have a food-eating contest with t-bone that involves his eating 50 hamburgers and my eating 20 wiener-related items (i see that that was a bad choice of words but i am too sickly weak to do anything about it). it seems as though i may have already lost. that bavarian smokie was to be #3 in favour of jacks). unless cheesey dogs count cause i can probably eat those the rest of the summer. gawd i’m gross.

other things i have learned from eating a poison wiener:

  • the hours between 2am and 5am are terrible to experience. only because after two you know you are going to be exhausted the next day. because you are almost thirty. and that makes you old. also, once the birds start chirping and you are still suppressing the urge to vomit, you know you’re f*cked.
  • cats have the ability to be sympathetically sick with you. bianca, who pukes a lot as it is due to her half-himalayan-ness and the related masses of fur, puked repeatedly when i was feeling ill. this had the effect of making me much more nauseous as i cleaned up the warm half-digested cat food chunks. sweetass. (bianca then needed a lot of coddling which made me want to kill her because she likes to step all over me due the coddling process. poor me is basically my point).
  • i have a weak baby stomach. t-bone woke up about 3am and upon realizing my distress was like, “yeah, my stomach is a bit off too,” and then promptly fell back to sleep. i have been sick for what is going on two days. he’s completely fine. (if anyone knows where i can purchase a stomach of steel, i’d be forever grateful).
  • napping is underrated. i kinda dig it. that, and not showering all day.
  • i have seen the film peggy sue got married WAY too many times for how not a good movie it is.
  • seven years in tibet feels like seven years long. particularly due to brad pitt’s awful acting and awful austrian accent. the first time he said “shit” with that accent, i thought he was joking. like he was going to look at the camera and say, “sorry i’m such a douche in this movie. i can’t help myself.” or something like that.
  • hotdogs might be the devil. but it doesn’t mean i love them any less. we are just “on a break.”

on a related note, i think there is a force in the universe keeping me from my dissertation. it comes in many guises and it is quite powerful. i think i will respect it. a least until i stop having bavarian-flavoured indigestion. i know. i’m gross.

(note: the pic is me in vegas when hotdogs and i were still a pretty serious hot and heavy item. we’ll get there again. someday).

so now that i have a total of 52 posts or thereabouts, i decided to get myself a shiny new home in the blogosphere. and here it is! i even changed my title cause we all know how i can’t commit to anything. so here i am, once again following in the footsteps of the alpha-bloggess dr. beth and moving on up to wordpress, thereby bringing me into at least the 20th century. as dr. beth pointed out, blogger is sooooo 1990s, and jacks is nothing if not cutting edge.

so in honour of my shiny new blog i am going to stop holding back and do something i have been wanting to do for a while. yup. that’s right. blog about my cats. and i swear to god, if any of you stop reading because i choose occasionally to catblog, well, just know that i think you’re not very nice. yeah. take that. so i told this little ditty at a recent dim sum fest (my new favourite ingestable) and it got some laughs, so here goes.

i have two cats, one is named hobbes, the other bianca. they are brother and sister and the two most beautiful himalayan/siamese cross kitties in. the. whole. world. they have completely opposite personalities and of course this makes them highly complimentary. anyhoo. hobbes is really outgoing. like really. and bianca, well. not so much. so whenever anyone comes over, or really, whenever anyone comes into our place – including us – hobbes runs to them frantically for attention and bianca runs to the bedroom to hide under the bed until she decides that you are not sketchballs. hobbes is essentially an attention whore while bianca takes to heart the cow and the milk analogy.

i give into hobbes a lot. this might be because he is an attention whore like me or because he is really needy. not sure. the point is: what hobbes wants, hobbes gets. that or you have to put up withhim screaming in your face as he kneads your chest with his massive kitty paws. and well, to put it bluntly, hobbes likes his junk scratched. not actually his junk of course. but the general area. so i concede and scratch his belly quite, well, low. this translates into the uniquely hobbesian (hehe) practice of meeting new people, subsequently flopping on them, and then waiting for the junk scratch. needless to say, this takes people off-guard. and maybe a little aback. they begin by asking if it is okay that they scratch his belly (which is a good question because most cats are not into this action). upon receiving the go-ahead, hobbes begins to kick their arms with his back leg in order to get their hands lower. MUCH lower. it is at this point that visitors begin to get uncomfortable, laugh nervously, and ask if what they think he is doing is indeed what he is doing. i say yes and they recoil in a mix of fascination and horror. i clarify and say that he likes it low, but that he does not in fact want anyone to touch it. at least i don’t think he does.

so this is my welcome and inaugural post on my new blog. hopefully, it will, as my cat’s junk-scratching desires do, demonstrate the propriety of the new handle and theme.