Cat-ass-trophe

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Checkers, The Kibble Wrangler

I am owned by a cat. Those of you who know me well know Checkers, The Kibble Wrangler, is my world.

MY. WORLD.

Yes, I am a crazy cat lady.

Love me, love the cat. It’s a package deal.

Now that we’ve established that, realize that she can do little wrong. This will become evident as this story progresses.

My sister, Chickenbone, used to always ask, “How can you have a cat? There’s that whole stinky litter box that needs to be scooped all the time, there’s the barfing on the carpet. All that’s just gross.” (I retorted with some quip about children and diapers. I do not have kids. She now has a cat/litter box and a kid/diapers. I win.)

Yes, kitty poop is gross, as is the occasional cling-on (poo stuck to butt fur), but it’s so inconsequential when compared to the unconditional love she gives.

MY. WORLD., People.

This post is in honor of her approaching 16th birthday. Happy Birthday Checkers, from the interwebs! (Yup, she gets gifts and special treats on her birthday just like I do. Mine is coming before hers. Feel free to send gifts to both of us. My email address in on my About page. She wants a big cat tree. I want a tropical vacation.)

On with the cat-ass-trophe… But, wait! There’s more…

4-Hour Workweek by Tim Ferriss

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This is the BEST. BOOK. EVER. Seriously.

Have you ever wanted to escape the the 9-5 grind? See some place other than the walls of your office cubicle? Travel the world while you’re still able?

This is a lifestyle design for not just working less, but living more.

I’m in! Sign me up!

What’s your dream lifestyle? What would you do if free time and money were no longer an issue?

In The 4-Hour Workweek Tim Ferriss gives a specific internet business model ANYONE CAN IMPLEMENT. He explains each step in very simple terms, and includes contact information for his preferred vendors and services.

He also details the hazards of time-sucking activities such as wasting time on social media, and checking your email several times a day. Providing simple charts, it was hard to ignore the evidence. Email wastes more time than you can imagine. I tried his suggestions- and saved myself  HOURS. So much time in fact, I can work on this blog and my other ventures, as well as be more productive at work. AND still have a social life!

Get the book, I highly recommend it.

Workforced.com – We are not alone!

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Workforced

Workforced.com – This Office Doesn’t Work

People, I’ve found a fellow cube-dweller and sufferer of my cube-shaped bit of hell. My heart it full.

While stalking perusing one of my favorite blogs, Midget Man of Steel’s Mental Poo, I read his interview with Don Joe from Workforced.com. Comic GENIUS – both of them. Certifiable yes, but genius.

I trotted on over to Workforce.com, an office comedy blog, and immediately realized I had found a comrade: A fellow sufferer of the padded, square-shaped hell. We are not alone.

What he wrote about one of his colleagues bringing around their newborn brought tears of laughter to my eyes – Where The Son Doesn’t Shine.

The man is now on my Blogroll: Funnier Bloggers.

Penny and The Attack of The Killer Bees

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The Rispin Mansion, Capitola CA.

The Rispin Mansion, Capitola, CA. Front entry way.

The Time Penny Was Attacked by The Killer Bees

When I was a delinquent young teenager in Capitola, I had some friends with whom I regularly got into trouble had adventures. (See: My First Brush With The Law). One of the places we would regularly go to find trouble was the colloquially named ‘monastery’, formally know as The Rispin Mansion.

(Side note: If you view the more recent photos, note we did NOT spray paint the place, or destroy the statues, and were quick to lecture those who did. We loved that place. I would like to see it restored but it’s going to be torn down and turned into a Bed & Breakfast or something.)

The monestary/Rispin Mansion was once a beautiful mansion built in 1922 by a wealthy man, reported to have transported liquor during the Prohibition.

It seemed only fitting we should go there to drink illegally.

The place once had beautiful parquet floors and statues. It still had secret hidden rooms, and a sliding bookcase. People, I couldn’t make this shit up – I’m not that imaginative. IT WAS AWESOME!

The place was abandoned around 1958, and it’s considered trespassing to be on the grounds.

Yet another good reason for us to go there. Regularly. But, wait! There’s more…

The Time I Learned Golf Carts Don’t Float

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The Four Seasons Golf Resort – probably not the one we were at.

Golf Carts Don’t Float, But Golf Tees Do – Who Knew?!

For a little while after my parents got divorced my father stayed in the general Santa Barbara, CA area. My sister, Chickenbone, and I would spend weekends and long summers with him where we would learn all kinds of grown-up things (much against my mother’s wishes) like playing poker, driving before we were even in our teens, and eating junk food all day long.

My father raised us very differently than my mother: My mother was a fairly strict and conservative parent who raised us on health food, while my father pretty much let us do absolutely anything we wanted. (See My First Brush With The Law for an example.)

And he would often help us cover up the crime.

We were too young to be left alone, not because we couldn’t take care of ourselves, but more likely we’d have burnt down the house.  But my father liked playing golf, so he had to bring us along.

Just imagine two independent, but restrained-9-months-out-of-the year-then-suddenly-unleashed kids running amok on the golf course. But, wait! There’s more…

My First Brush With The Law

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My First Brush With The Law…

Yes, I did say my “first” brush with the law. (Hi Mom! Hi Dad! Aren’t you glad your kid has a blog? That’s read internationally? (A shout out to my three foreign readers!) Cool stuff, huh?)

hand cuffs, not fuzzy

Huh, I thought they only came in fuzzy.

When I was around 13 I moved from the tranquility of mildly conservative Santa Barbara to the Dead-head, surfer town of Capitola to live with my father full time.

I went from living with a very strict parent in a conservative environment to living with a very “laissez faire” parent in a stoner town.

It’s no wonder I score polar opposites on personality tests – on the same test, or I score dead center.

Just imagine what it’s like inside my head…

You, wondering for a moment what it’s like inside my head: *thinking… imagining… letting out small scream*

But I digress…

Capitola was an awesome beach town to grow up in as a young teenager because you could walk everywhere. This was very helpful for someone who didn’t have a car. It made it MUCH easier to get into trouble.

Wonder what your kids are doing while you’re at work or not with them? Keep reading because my parents NEVER knew about this (until now)…. But, wait! There’s more…

Life In Malibu – Celebrity Encounters

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Malibu Colony #63 from the deck... this was my favorite spot to sit, and where I was when Rob Reiner tried to talk to me. I'm so lame. Sorry Rob. Love your movies!

Malibu Colony #63 from the deck... this was my favorite spot to sit, and where I was when Rob Reiner tried to talk to me. I'm so lame. Sorry Rob. Love your movies!

Several years ago I transferred to Malibu to work as Marc Andreessen’s Estate Manager, overseeing care of the property in the Malibu Colony and managing the staff. It was a great job, for the most part.

Malibu was pretty, and pretty boring for a single gal. Not much to do so I stirred up some trouble. (You can read a bit about Malibu and one of my more interesting exploits here.) I’ll write about some of the crazier stuff later, like when my parents get tired of reading their kid’s new blog (or just give up on my ever achieving greatness, or providing grandchildren. Ya, like a starving dog with a fat bone…).

So instead, I’m going to gossip about celebrities I saw when I was lived in ‘Bu (“Bu” as the locals call it – ’cause they’re special). It’s a random list of my encounters so don’t get too excited. (The stuff I could sell to tabloids for cubic dollars I’m saving for later.)

Breakfast with Spielberg. But, wait! There’s more…

Internet Dating FAIL, Part 2

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(Click here to read Part 1: My Match.com FAIL.)

eHarmony strikes again

Albert Einstein said the Definition of Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

We’ve already established I’m not totally sane.

Part 2: My eHarmony FAIL

They boasted their personality questionnaire as the best way to match you with your mate. Deciding they, being professionals and all, had a better way to find my match than the lengthy profile and emails I had tried unsuccessfully, I took their bait.

After spending TWO HOURS of my precious life filing out their stupid personality questionnaire, I was ready to be matched. I set up my profile and they sent me a few guys. You can’t see anyone’s pictures in the first few rounds, you just get to see how “well” you are matched based on your TWO HOUR LONG LIFE SUCKING questionnaire.

The matches, for the most part, didn’t seem a good fit for me. Damn, was I paying good money for this shit? Anyway, I picked a couple with whom to anonymously trade banal questions about our likes and dislikes. (Here’s a dislike: Trading banal questions with someone WHO’S FACE I CAN’T SEE.)

FINALLY, after a few rounds of “What’s your favorite fruit loop flavor?” eHarmony reveals the pictures to me. But, wait! There’s more…

We Interrupt The Regularly Scheduled Post To Bring You: Lucky WTF? Charms

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Lucky WTF? Charms

To help brighten up the sterilized sea of cubicles where I work, each holiday we decorate a pass-through/hallway. It helps give the place a little color, and is a good excuse not to be at our desks for 15 minutes. We also include a plate of cookies or bowl of candy related to the holiday.

For St. Patty’s we did the usual: green clovers, pictures of green beer and leprechauns. My cube mate (the quiet male) cut up shapes of Lucky Charms cereal out of colored paper: pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars, green clovers, blue diamonds, and purple horse shoes. Very creative.

I thought we needed a real box of Lucky Charms cereal to complete the decorations. Mind you, it had been years since I last saw the contents of Lucky Charms.

Besides oddly-shaped (not as described above) “marshmallows”, here’s what was in the box: But, wait! There’s more…

Internet Dating FAIL, part 1

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Not a match.

My Match.com FAIL

Once upon a time not that long ago, I joined Match.com. I was (am still?) a bit idealistic: looking for that one great guy with whom to spend the rest of my life, travel, share adventures, and Tantric sex.

Match.com was a goldmine of men. (But it’s hard to know that ahead of time with an ad like this: Match.com’s Ad FAIL by Online Dating Insider.) There are tons of guys on there: Successful, handsome, and horny.

But usually just horny.

Many are in their 40-50’s (my dating range) and LIVING AT HOME WITH MOM.

WTF?!?!

I should have gotten out then, while the getting was good. But oh no, not me, I’m idealistic (Can you say Cinderella Complex?). *sigh* I love me anyway.

Anyway, many were also marginally employed, if at all. (This was long before the current recession/depression and the astronomical rates of unemployment so they don’t get to use this excuse.)

Most men seem to lie about two three things: But, wait! There’s more…