Bugger

I'm stealing the title of the post from my cat's blog. How sad is that? How much sadder is it that my cat has a blog? And that her posts are infinitely more fun to read? Go read them, she is very bright and computer-savvy. Like A Mews. Even my cat makes fun of my blog name.

I'm having a bad day. This is not your cue to sing that song. You know that song. The one that goes, "You had a bad day something, something, something, something you had a bad day." You know what I'm talking about. I hate that song. I hate it so much. It's whiny and self-indulgent and just a terrible, terrible song. It's so bad! I hate it! It's stuck in my goddamn head now.

The cherry on the icing of my shit sundae today came when I checked the mail and my Cat Fancy Magazine was not in it. How sad is it that not getting Cat Fancy is what's tipping the scales? And no, I didn't subscribe myself to it. I'm not that pathetic. It was a gift from my thoughtful boyfriend. He bought me a year's subscription. It would be truly pathetic if I got myself a subscription to Cat Fancy. I'll probably renew it at the end of the year. They're featuring a Bombay cat on the cover this next month and I want it as my kitty is a Bombay cat. I saw it when I was at Petco. I went to Petco two days in a row. To get cat food for my cat and to take my cat to get her claws trimmed. Because I don't like getting a blood transfusion every time I try to do it myself. I like Petco. I like all the animals they have. This is why I shouldn't be allowed to go to Petco. I waste precious "writing time" there, trying to get amphibians to love me. Except nowhere else carries my spoiled fat kitty's food. Science Diet Light for ages 1-6, "for optimum weight control," if you were curious. Let's take a moment to look at the pictures I took as I stood there wishing I could own every animal there. Especially the bug-eyed, long-tongued variety of animal.




I took a picture of a goddamn tarantula and thought it was cute. What is wrong with me?

I would like a skink one day though. The one they usually have was not there anymore. I hope he got a good home. Skink spam!





They're so very cute with their blue tongues. I wish to own many. There were other lizards there too. I got to watch them eat lunch. They chomped on live crickets and made the best faces.


Awww, they're kissing. Oh skinks. You inspire sonnets you muses of the reptile world.

So I'm having a bad day. I've gotten rejected so many times from so many jobs that when I got today's rejection email, I didn't even remember applying to the place. Just as well. It was in New York.

I really wish I had my Cat Fancy. Looking at cute kitties calms me down. Oh screw you, I like animals. Leave me alone.

I'm working on a novel and a screenplay. How pretentious does that sound? How sad is it that I can't get moving on either one even though I have piles of notes on my phone, on my iPod, on the sticky notes on my computer, and various other places. Isn't it sad that the reason is okay, what if I do write them. And manage to edit them well. Then submit them to Gersh who said I could. Then what? They're just going to read and give me coverage? Piss on that, I can do that myself thank you very much, it's my goddamn job. Or worse, send it back and say meh.

I'm having a bad day. My cat keeps peeing in secret corners. She also gets scared after pooping and runs out of the bathroom with her litterbox and wipes her paws like a madwoman on my rug. I really don't know what to do. She obviously has some bathroom trauma that I can't fix. Maybe I need a pet psychic. Maybe I need my damn Cat Fancy, it could have helpful advice. Maybe it's a Bombay cat thing but I won't know until the damn issue arrives.

Oh, but I got a letter from my best friend. She included a full-page ad for SPAM (with an exclusive offer for sterling silver spoon rings on the back) and a picture of us in fifth grade.


I'm the ugly dork in glasses. She's the one in the middle. The other girl is someone who went to elementary and middle school with us. I'm friends with her on Facebook but beyond that I don't think I've talked to her in about ten years.

I hate that, "You had a bad day," song so goddamn much.

She also sent this picture of a fire extinguisher dressed up in a bandanna and straw hat with a card calling me an, "awesome and bestest friend."


I guess it's not that bad a day. As long as I have a picture of a fire extinguisher dressed up in a bandanna and straw hat.

The Weekend of ME

My brain keeps making these drastic 180 degree spins and it's making me dizzy. But good things first.

My birthday weekend and day were pretty great. On Friday, the boy and I went to our friends as usual and we ended up at the usual hipster bar that has slightly better music (INXS, Twisted Sister, and Bon Jovi all made an appearance) than the others. The bars and nightclubs close at 2 am here and one of the last songs was Lady Gaga's, "Bad Romance." My friend, who is very tall and noticeable, just stated moshing to it for fun. You know what moshing is right? When you throw yourself around to music at concerts and get others doing it too? Well, halfway through the song the entire bar decided this was the best thing ever and joined in. A tidal wave of Red Bull hit me and the table we were at was pushed from the middle of the floor to up against the wall. It was insane. And hilarious. My friend got escorted out even though he really didn't instigate anything bad, it was the rest of the people taking it too far, but since he's so tall he kind of stands out and it was easy to blame him. Luckily, he's allowed back in next time.

Saturday, Elliot went to a concert which I didn't really feel like attending. I was going to spend the night reading my friend's script. He's out in L.A. and is slowly making headway in the "business," and wanted my feedback for his new draft. Through some happy interference though, I wasn't left alone all night. A few friends came over and we spent the night lazily watching delicious food shows until we couldn't take it anymore and ordered Thai food and then cheesecake. They all left (un)comfortably full and after a really nice low-key night.

I spent Sunday at home with Elliot, reading the aforementioned script and making notes, and we discovered Housesitter starring Goldie Hawn and Steve Martin was available for free and since Elliot had never seen it, we settled down to watch. It's one of those silly '90s comedies that make you feel all happy and content and it was so nice to curl up and watch it. Even Egglet our kitty jumped up and snuggled in between us. The clock struck midnight in the middle of the movie and we paused so that I could open my birthday presents.

My boyfriend has amazing taste. He got me three books I can't wait to read, a silly t-shirt from this Japanese label we both loved when we were there (it has a cartoon monkey with a red cape and fangs trying to catch a floating dagger), and a trench coat and fedora. Yes, that's right. He got me a coat that fits so well, tight on top and flaring out in a full bottom, with a cool hat and proclaimed every classy lady needs this outfit. I agree. Now I can be a 40s dame. He even made sure the model wearing the hat ad curly hair so that it would look good on me.

On the day of, I got so many emails, texts, and Facebook messages, it was overwhelming. I've never felt so loved and touched and I appreciated every single one of them. I had lunch with Elliot in Chinatown (mm delicious pho) and we spent the day at home watching this weird anime called the Tatami Galaxy. My friends had organized a dinner at an Indian restaurant for later but I was a little blue because Elliot had to go back to Austin.

I admit I got a little teary-eyed when I said bye and then promptly started cleaning and putting away things because I am Monica from Friends and I clean when I'm anxious. I trudged to dinner, still a little down, and it was pouring down rain. There was a small group of us there and while we were waiting for appetizers I felt a big smack on my cheek. I looked up to see Elliot's grinning face! He had tricked me and was back for good, no more Austin. Haha, he totally got me and I had a delightful rest of my night which culminated with drinks and ice cream at my apartment while we all watched Death Becomes Her.

Again, thank you to everyone who made this day so nice for me. I tend not to have good birthdays and this was exactly what I wanted. Thank you so much.

But then comes the day after and I woke up with a cold. The rest of this week I've been feeling kind of yucky from the cold and from other stuff on my mind. I keep applying to places that never respond even when I send follow-ups and I'd really like more work from my literary agency but they haven't responded to my email today either. I should be happy that I'm not "struggling" per se, that I can spend this time writing but my head feels so empty and at the same time clogged (both because I'm sick and metaphorically) that I can't bring myself to do much. I hope this funk passes with my cold and I can get going on my book. I'm starting to outline how I want it to play out and I emailed my agency asking if I can start submitting things in January when I'll have been with them for a year. I always need a basic outline before writing because even if I don't stick entirely to it, it feels safe to have that "skeleton."

I was thinking about writing a letter to Christopher Moore. He's the most active of the authors I enjoy and because of Facebook's new features, I get updates from him. It might help to hear from someone who is a writer and how to handle the long days that seem to stretch on forever.

Also, I wrote a really long piece about how Bon Jovi has been in and out of my life since I was seven years old and it got posted on MetalSucks. This link will take you to it.