This is my way of getting the cat in the carrier.
Lean the carrier on end against a wall, do this when the cat can't see what is going on.
Tempt the cat into the same room with treats. Grab the cat, holding his front legs together in one hand and back legs together in the other, pressing his body against yours. The idea is to immoblize the cat as much as possible so there's less flailing and chance of being scratched. Carry him over to the carrier, and using your legs brace the carrier against the wall. Then shove the cat in the carrier, tail first,and make sure his back legs get past the lip of the carrier (so there's less to fight against). Let go of his back legs, and use that hand to sort of shove him down more and close the door with your free hand.
Set the carrier on its side and toss some treats in.
Jeez, LJ, like I don't feel arrested enough. In the not- Mirandizable sense.
But at least in that sense I'd be better off once my lawyer showed up.
I don't know what Skype is, but I do often feel like any corner of LJ that isn't my little corner is all teenagers, or freaks that aren't-like-my-kind-of-freaky-freaks.
I'm really MySpace averse. There are people who use it, whose writing I like to read, but I just can't stay there for very long. The random musical assaults and dark screens are just too much.
UGH! UGH! UGH! UGH! UGH!
My landlord does not understand what it means to ASK before she makes an appointment to show the apartment. She also doesn't seem to understand what 24-hours notice is. I'm so frustrated right now that I could scream. As a matter of fact, I did scream. At my poor dad.
Crap, VW. This woman SO needs thwacking with a clue-by-four.
...meanwhile, the universe has sent me cake, when I only asked for milkshake. 'Molten chocolate shake' did not arrive. 'Molten chocolate cake' did.
And there I was virtuously
not
ordering cake.
Oh well...
Still wishing her on my brother. I'm about ready to start shrieking "GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT" at him. Mom says he's lonely and doesn't want to talk to him about it, but it's becoming an Issue for me.
So, as this past weekend was my birthday weekend, The Boy did make every effort to fete me properly.
He came to a family shindig with me on Saturday -- everyone loved him, and he had a really good time.
Yesterday, he baked me a carrot cake (which is my favorite). Perhaps I should clarify. He baked me a 2-layer carrot cake FROM SCRATCH. Including the frosting.
Oh! And the birthday card he gave me? He signed "With love, of course."
!!!!!!!!!
But we're not dating.
???????
Maybe he just thinks the word date is lame.
Maybe he just thinks the word date is lame.
I have NO clue any more. Zero. I am clue-free.
So I'm just going with it.
Because, given that mom's boyfriend is forty-seven, boyfriend feels dumb to say, so I might just say "the man she dates" but I'm not trying to say anything about their relationship.
