I figure that since we’ve moved and now share the house with an additional 3 animals that haven’t really been talked about so much, I should profile the new guys.

This is Jazz. My father, a farrier, was never one to say “no” when a client offered him a new kitten, and so towards the end of the year my sister came into the house shouting “we’ve got a present Mom!” my mother knew we had a new addition to the family. My mother is presented with this tiny ball of silver and black tiger-striped fur and asked if it was a boy or girl kitten, and what its name was. “Dad said it’s a girl! Her name is Princess Jasmine,” said my sister with glee, having named the kitten after her most recent favorite cartoon character.

My mother held up the little kitten, the runt of its litter, and checked what sort of… um… assembly it had. “I hate to break it to you both,” my mother said, “but Princess Jasmine is a boy.”

These days he’s known as Jazz. He outgrew his “runt” phase after a year or two and has become one of the biggest cats I’ve ever known, topping the scales at about 30lbs. He’s furry as hell, and brushing him is one way to guarantee that I’ll be sneezing and coughing up cat hair for the rest of the day. Now about 15, he’s getting old, and he’s getting mean. Walk to close to him and he’ll take a swipe at your leg. In fact, I’m fairly certain that shortly after this photo was taken, he attempted to eat my face.

This also marks my 4000th post! I’m insane!

It’s been a long week for us for reasons I won’t go into. I’m alternating between complete anger/madness/rage and utter normalcy, which in itself is completely fucked up because the swings are fast and extreme. For example, Sunday I spent the day positively loathing and not wanting anything to do with Ed, while Monday I wanted to just take him into the bedroom and fuck his brains out. There’s also the anxiety that’s back and oh-so-fun. I’m doing what I can to manage the moodiness, and Eddie’s taking the brunt of shit from me.

Work has been dead lately. We think business has dropped off, but it doesn’t seem to be any of our good regulars and we’ve still go the same number of losers that we generally get (that is, we get a slew of drug-seeking freaks in the later half of the week who want narcotics to party with). I’m beginning to think we must have the lowest price on syringes too, since we seem to be getting more folks coming in to buy them. Not to mention that all the old people have suddenly decided that they can’t do anything for themselves and are calling up saying “fill everything!” “Fill everything” is just a shade better than “I need my little white pills that look like footballs”, but not by much. Any day now someone is going to call up from their bathroom and ask for someone to call their doctor so they can get someone out to the house to wipe their ass, and then they’ll whine about how much they’ll charge for a house call. Yesterday we had someone come in and tell us that she was completely constipated, and that she’d given herself 5 enemas. Normal people would stop at maybe the 2nd or 3rd attempt at Roto-Rootering their ass if they didn’t see results, but omgwtf, 5 enemas?!?!? It boggles the mind. And then, and then, when it was suggested that maybe she might want to buy a stool softener, she declined because, get this, the pills were red and she doesn’t like the color red.

Chaucer fell in the toilet the other night. I was in the tub and Eddie was sitting on the edge of it and the cat was stretched between the toilet and the tub. I guess he lost his balance when he tried to get all 4 feet onto the toilet seat because his ass fell right into the bowl. Poor little dude looked so freaked out and mortified. And he really doesn’t like it when you put bubbles on his head.

Tomorrow I get a new computer to replace the piece of shit that I’ve been using for a while. It will be quieter in the living room without the pc fan running at full tilt all the time, and it will have a bigger hard drive so I can put some other games on it and fill it with a buttload of music. One thing that won’t be getting reinstalled? The webcam. It hasn’t been online in about 3 months, but there’s really no reason for it anymore. It was a fun run while it lasted, but it’s done.

There’s only 7 more days until Christmas, which means I’m counting down the days until I can stop listening to the horrible music at work. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was Christmas songs mixed with the regular fare, but it’s nonstop Christmas and it’s driving us all crazy. Work’s been crazy so far this week. We’ve fielded several complaints about the Saturday RPh, managed to get things in stock that we actually needed, and we’ve finally caught up with the crapload of work that was leftover from the snowy weekend, and hopefully within the next few days things settle down back to normal.

I guess that on Saturday we’ll be doing our shopping, and I have no idea what I’m going to buy Eddie. Usually I do my shopping for him online, but this year has been so hectic that I haven’t had a chance to do it. Not to mention that I really don’t have any clue as to what I’m going to get for him.

Pickle and Chaucer are insane. I’d just taken the ferret out of the cage this morning after Eddie got me up, and she’s doing her just-woke-up stretches on the floor when the cat jumps on her and throws her down on her back. I wasn’t even completely dressed and they’re wrestling all over the hallway. Crazy-ass animals.

I’m thankful that I’ve got a family who loves me and is healthy and happy, even if we do put the “fun” in dysfunctional at times. I’m thankful that a bunch of y’all showed up for turkey, and that no one called anyone else a fag during the meal (this has happened at a holiday dinner in my family).

I’m thankful that I’ve got two healthy pets who let me snuggle them, even when they want to run away from my snuggles and cuddles. They’re wonderful, even when they sit outside the bedroom door like little perverts. Or when they chase each other around the bed while I’m trying to sleep.

I’m thankful for the interwebs, and my computer, and World of Warcraft, all of which allow me to spend copious amounts of time pretending to be a perky redheaded elf with a very large, noisy, lavender pet tiger.

I’m thankful for neighbors who amuse me with their loud sex on Thanksgiving night, and pretty much any night that the weather is warm enough to keep the windows open. I’m also happy that I don’t need to fake it like she does.

I’m thankful for my job, which not only supplies me with money, but also supplies me with an endless stream of nutjobs and whackos who remind me that my life will never suck as much as I may think it does.

And I’m thankful for my friends, without whom I’d probably be crazy by now.

Chaucer gets to go to the vet this morning because his lower lip (do cats even have lips?) is all swollen up. It was a little noticeable last night, and this morning it’s a lot puffier, so he’s going to get it checked out. He’s not a happy camper and is sitting across the room as though he knows what’s going on.