Given that it has been over 90 degrees for what seems like the past month, Niblet reminds us we got many inches of snow last winter, so stop complaining and give him a snack.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
What snow?
Given that it has been over 90 degrees for what seems like the past month, Niblet reminds us we got many inches of snow last winter, so stop complaining and give him a snack.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Dinocroc Vs Supergator...SyFy, you scamp!
I had Dinocroc Vs Supergator on my DVR so I did not call anyone I knew because and I was afraid they would accidentally give away the ending before I had a chance to watch.
So I watched it yesterday and have several thoughts:
1. D-Croc and Supa-G only fought the LAST FOUR MINUTES of the movie. RIPOFF!!!! The rest of the movie was our two friends chomping on tourists (OK, it is SyFy so it was mostly them nomming on women in bikinis).
2. One of the characters is "played" (I would say "acted" but that is really an overstatement) by an "actor" whose first name is (I am not making this up) Rib. This makes me fill up with a warm toasty happy. He "played" a hunter called The Cajun (no, really) who wore an Australian outback hat, had no discernible accent, and ended up killing NOTHING.
3. No plot whatsoever. Really. None. Zip.
4. The nerdy scientist/federal agent who kills one of the scale-sters with SCIENCE! gets the girl, a park ranger, who is a good 5-6 inches taller than him. Fantastic!
5. The CGI is so bad that most of the time the feet on our CGI reptilian pals do not even touch the ground. Oh, SyFy, I heart you so much!
6. David Carradine played the reclusive island billionaire (really is there any other kind of billionaire?) who developed the large reptiles as an army for ...um...to breed them to um....oh, nevermind. I thought of him passing after this movie and haz a sad. :(
7. The movie was about 3/4 over before I finally got straight which one of our hilarious cold-blooded superstars was Dinocroc and which one was Supergator. Although either one would have made a really nice purse.
8. At the resort hotel, a Hollywood type (we know this because he is riding in a limo, wearing a big gold chain and has feathered hair {and SPOLER ALERT: dies/gets chomped in a hot tub}) calls them to book a cottage and part of the conversation is thus:
Resort guy: You will love coming down now, the fishing is to die for.
Hollywood Guy: You know how I love my tilapia!
Me: Huh????
Yep, everyone knows that after you make it in Tinseltown, the streets are paved with....tilapia.
And I am pretty sure that is the moral of this movie.
So I watched it yesterday and have several thoughts:
1. D-Croc and Supa-G only fought the LAST FOUR MINUTES of the movie. RIPOFF!!!! The rest of the movie was our two friends chomping on tourists (OK, it is SyFy so it was mostly them nomming on women in bikinis).
2. One of the characters is "played" (I would say "acted" but that is really an overstatement) by an "actor" whose first name is (I am not making this up) Rib. This makes me fill up with a warm toasty happy. He "played" a hunter called The Cajun (no, really) who wore an Australian outback hat, had no discernible accent, and ended up killing NOTHING.
3. No plot whatsoever. Really. None. Zip.
4. The nerdy scientist/federal agent who kills one of the scale-sters with SCIENCE! gets the girl, a park ranger, who is a good 5-6 inches taller than him. Fantastic!
5. The CGI is so bad that most of the time the feet on our CGI reptilian pals do not even touch the ground. Oh, SyFy, I heart you so much!
6. David Carradine played the reclusive island billionaire (really is there any other kind of billionaire?) who developed the large reptiles as an army for ...um...to breed them to um....oh, nevermind. I thought of him passing after this movie and haz a sad. :(
7. The movie was about 3/4 over before I finally got straight which one of our hilarious cold-blooded superstars was Dinocroc and which one was Supergator. Although either one would have made a really nice purse.
8. At the resort hotel, a Hollywood type (we know this because he is riding in a limo, wearing a big gold chain and has feathered hair {and SPOLER ALERT: dies/gets chomped in a hot tub}) calls them to book a cottage and part of the conversation is thus:
Resort guy: You will love coming down now, the fishing is to die for.
Hollywood Guy: You know how I love my tilapia!
Me: Huh????
Yep, everyone knows that after you make it in Tinseltown, the streets are paved with....tilapia.
And I am pretty sure that is the moral of this movie.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Daisy answers your questions
Q: If a cat REALLY does not want a cone on her head after surgery, how long will it take her to remove it for the second time?
A: About 10 hours
A: About 10 hours
Daisy answers your questions
Q: If a cat REALLY does not want a cone on her head after surgery, how long will it take her to remove it for the second time?
A: About 10 hours
A: About 10 hours
Saturday, May 29, 2010
To answer your question.....
Q: After bringing your cat home from a surgical procedure, how long will it take her to get the cone-collar off?
A: A little under an hour.
A: A little under an hour.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
PAWS
Matt Hooper – “You were a passenger in that ship?”
Martin Brody – “What happened?”
Quint – “Gigantic tabbeh slammed two giant claws into her side, Chief. We was comin’ back from the Petco on the island of Manhattan. We’d just picked up a delivery of kibble and a big litterbox. Eleven hundred pieces of kibble went into the water. The ship also went into the water and sunk in 12 minutes.
Didn’t see the first kitteh for about a half-hour. Tiger. 13-footer. You know how you know that in the water, Chief? You can tell by lookin’ from the fuzzy pointed ear to the tail. What we didn’t know, was that our Petco mission was so secret, no distress signal had been sent. They didn’t even list us overdue for a week. Very first light, Chief, kittehs come cruisin’ by, so we formed ourselves into tight groups. It was sorta like you see in the calendars, you know the infantry squares in the old calendars like the Battle of Waterloo and the idea was the kitteh come to the nearest man, that man he starts to crumple up balls of paper and throws them out into the water, and also dangles a nice piece of shiny ribbon and sometimes that kitteh he go away… but sometimes he wouldn’t go away.
Sometimes that kitteh looks right at ya. Right into your eyes. And the thing about a kitteh is he’s got adorable soulful eyes. Tawny or sometimes blue eyes. When he comes at ya, he doesn’t even seem to be payin’ attention to ya… ’til he purrs and rubs against ya, and then all of a sudden runs off to barf and then… ah then you hear that high-pitched mewin’ and barfin’. Your carpet turns a bad color, and despite all your cleanin’ and your hollerin’ those kittehs come back and… they demand more kibble.
You know by the end of that first dawn, we lost a hundred pieces of kibble. I don’t know how many kittehs there were, maybe a thousand. The kittehs averaged nomming about 60 pieces an hour. Thursday mornin’, Chief, I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Baseball player. Boson’s mate. I thought he was asleep. I reached over to wake him up. He bobbed up, and looked at me and opened his wallet. Well, he showed me pictures of his own kittehs and I thought they was adorable.
At noon on the fifth day, an Airbus A320 from USairways swung in low and he spotted us, a distinguished pilot named Sullenberger, older than Mr. Hooper here, anyway he spotted us and a few hours later a big ol’ fat airplane landed on the Hudson and started to pick us up. You know that was the time I was most frightened. Waitin’ for my turn. I’ll never put on a lifejacket again. So, eleven hundred pieces of kibble went into the water. 316 come out, the kittehs took the rest, June the 29th, 1945.
Anyway, we delivered the litterbox.
Martin Brody – “What happened?”
Quint – “Gigantic tabbeh slammed two giant claws into her side, Chief. We was comin’ back from the Petco on the island of Manhattan. We’d just picked up a delivery of kibble and a big litterbox. Eleven hundred pieces of kibble went into the water. The ship also went into the water and sunk in 12 minutes.
Didn’t see the first kitteh for about a half-hour. Tiger. 13-footer. You know how you know that in the water, Chief? You can tell by lookin’ from the fuzzy pointed ear to the tail. What we didn’t know, was that our Petco mission was so secret, no distress signal had been sent. They didn’t even list us overdue for a week. Very first light, Chief, kittehs come cruisin’ by, so we formed ourselves into tight groups. It was sorta like you see in the calendars, you know the infantry squares in the old calendars like the Battle of Waterloo and the idea was the kitteh come to the nearest man, that man he starts to crumple up balls of paper and throws them out into the water, and also dangles a nice piece of shiny ribbon and sometimes that kitteh he go away… but sometimes he wouldn’t go away.
Sometimes that kitteh looks right at ya. Right into your eyes. And the thing about a kitteh is he’s got adorable soulful eyes. Tawny or sometimes blue eyes. When he comes at ya, he doesn’t even seem to be payin’ attention to ya… ’til he purrs and rubs against ya, and then all of a sudden runs off to barf and then… ah then you hear that high-pitched mewin’ and barfin’. Your carpet turns a bad color, and despite all your cleanin’ and your hollerin’ those kittehs come back and… they demand more kibble.
You know by the end of that first dawn, we lost a hundred pieces of kibble. I don’t know how many kittehs there were, maybe a thousand. The kittehs averaged nomming about 60 pieces an hour. Thursday mornin’, Chief, I bumped into a friend of mine, Herbie Robinson from Cleveland. Baseball player. Boson’s mate. I thought he was asleep. I reached over to wake him up. He bobbed up, and looked at me and opened his wallet. Well, he showed me pictures of his own kittehs and I thought they was adorable.
At noon on the fifth day, an Airbus A320 from USairways swung in low and he spotted us, a distinguished pilot named Sullenberger, older than Mr. Hooper here, anyway he spotted us and a few hours later a big ol’ fat airplane landed on the Hudson and started to pick us up. You know that was the time I was most frightened. Waitin’ for my turn. I’ll never put on a lifejacket again. So, eleven hundred pieces of kibble went into the water. 316 come out, the kittehs took the rest, June the 29th, 1945.
Anyway, we delivered the litterbox.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Important safety information!!
So this weekend I decided to reheat some leftover cauliflower in the microwave. Why? Because it is delicious and I can experience this deliciousness in only 1 minute after microwaving!
Here is the process:
1. Remove container of leftovers from the fridge, take lid off of container, place in microwave.
2. Set “cooking” “time” for 1 “minute”
3. Listen as microwave starts to micro the cauliflower’s waves and makes the following noise: BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT BZZZ BZZZZZtttt
4. Observe small flames shooting up from container.
5. Go “oooooh”
6. Turn off microwave to avoid small thermonuclear explosion.
7. Examine contents of the container: charred cauliflower.
8. Puzzle over the fact that there was no metal or Spinal Tap drummer, or anything else that causes microwaves to burst into flames.
9. Reach the following conclusion: OMG CAULIFLOWER IS FLAMMABLE
I bring you this cautionary tale as a safety message and urge you to take proper precautions if faced with a dangerous head of cauliflower. Put on a flame-retardant suit and approach with care as its’ florets are apparently filled with propane.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Trips in your "car" are "fun"
So this past weekend I hopped in the PT Cruiser (named Winfield) and ..er...PT Cruised up to NH. I had the radio blasting all the way, playing groovy 1960s music. So when I get to NH as I pull into the hotel parking lot, I turned the radio off. Immediately my keen senses (i.e., two ears) note that Winfield is going GrrrrrrrrrrrrrRRROAAANnngggrghgrgggh, especially when I turn the wheel (the turning of which I view as integral to the driving experience). The good thing about vacationing in an area you used to live in means you know where the services are located at. I went to the car repair shop I used to go to all the time in Exeter and they fit me in. Apparently the "bushings" were worn needed to be "replaced". The car guy said I would not be "killed" if I drove for a while with worn bushings, but I decided that I would have to take work time off anyway to get them fixed and it was probably safer to do it right then and there. Here is the conversation:
Car guy said: Your "bushings" are worn and need to be "replaced".
I said: How much?
Car guy: With labor and then an alignment, about $400.
I said: Uh, OK.
What I wanted to say: GAAAAH!!! WHYWHYWHYWHY!!!
What Winfield said: GrrrrrrrrrrrrrRRROAAANnngggrghgrgggh
So three hours and $400 later, I have lovely new NH bushings in the car.
Hooray! I went to New England and bought chowder and bushings! Not in that order!
Vacations are awesome.
Car guy said: Your "bushings" are worn and need to be "replaced".
I said: How much?
Car guy: With labor and then an alignment, about $400.
I said: Uh, OK.
What I wanted to say: GAAAAH!!! WHYWHYWHYWHY!!!
What Winfield said: GrrrrrrrrrrrrrRRROAAANnngggrghgrgggh
So three hours and $400 later, I have lovely new NH bushings in the car.
Hooray! I went to New England and bought chowder and bushings! Not in that order!
Vacations are awesome.
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