How My Pussy Handles Bad News

So, many of you know (because I won’t stop being a bawl baby and feel the need to post every other day about this matter – oh woe is me) my furry feline Ted and I have been asked to leave our little mini-manse due to the owner’s son needing my side for his expanding family. I took a minute to digest the news before passing the information along to an “I hate change more than anything in the history of the universe” cat.

When I first told Teddy we were relocating, he gave me his best cartoon eyes popping out of head routine.

WTF were you thinking? I KNOW.

WTF? WE’RE MOVING?!

Then he got all weepy…

Starting to bawl just like his mom taught him how

I think Mr. Bear thought if he gave me his sad face long enough it would change our situation.  No such luck.

Realizing his fake tears weren’t working, he ran for the nearest open space (that he has never, ever been interested in before).

Running for cover.

Running for cover.

While trying to coax TB out of his hiding space, he tried to escape his pain by delving deeper into the interior of my cabinets.

Maybe if I hide up in the cupboards, I will just drive the new tenants mad with meows.

Why can’t he just stuff his face when upset like the rest of us? DRAMA.

So after begging and pleading with him, he emerged from his hideout.

Beg me

Beg me and I will come.

Silly me, thinking this moving nonsense was water under the bridge, I turned my back for one second (CATS!) and Teddy had moved on to bigger and better out-of-reach places.

Master of Fridge Mountain.

Master of Fridge Mountain.

Sternly telling him to get down and take his eye balls off of my antique decanters, he suddenly lost the ability to hear.

Yep. He went there.

Yep. He went there.

What's up here?

Proving his point.

I reluctantly resisted the urge to scream “GET THE F DOWN” at the top of my lungs as he walked the top of my cabinets like a tightroping Vegas act.

Delicate maneuvers. I tried to resist the urge to yell at him to get the F down from my antique decanters...

Delicate maneuvers.

Slither attempt

Making my heart race with the little flicks of his tail. Bitch!

Reaching the end of his circus act, he realized there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide so he turned around and gave me 30 more seconds of quiet terror as he sauntered back to his starting point.

Twisty

Exposed.

Then Mr. Bear got all dramatic and tried ramming his head through the kitchen wall.

Ram Rod.

Ram Rod.

Realizing this attempt at drama hurt him more than it did me, he just sat and burned two tiny holes into my soul with his gaze of hell.

Gaze of hell. I feel like he burned two tiny holes into my soul with this icy stare.

This pussy is pissed.

And then, he proceeded to cry, whine, bitch and moan for about a half an hour until I got up on a chair and replanted him to lower ground.

This upcoming weekend of moving is going to be such fun…I may single handedly drink the world dry of Captain Morgan.

Yes, please wish me luck.

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Mini Manse on the Move!

Last weekend was consumed with digesting the fact that I was being asked to vacate my beloved mini-manse due to circumstances out of my control (which would be an unplanned pregnancy by my landlord’s son who lives on the other side…so they’re expanding to my side of the duplex. Condoms rock for those of you who seem to be unaware of the perks such as my neighbor).

So all this week I cruised the streets of Nashville, Craigslist (there are some real doozies out there – people and places – one guy had a bong out on the refrigerator as we toured the apartment), paper and Internet with my gal pal G (you know, the one who wanted to beat up an 80-year-old on my behalf – read about it here).  After much stomach turning, sleepless nights, budget reviewing and armpit sweating, I signed a lease! Now I might have to sell a few body parts between now and July 1, but Ted and I have a new place to call home.

Closet heaven. Holla!

This closet made me do it.

I wore the closest thing I had to ruby-red slippers when I went to sign the lease on Saturday.

Hoping to click my heels and say there's no place like home...

Clicking my heels and saying there’s no place like home…

Of course a few cocktails were called for as my mind whirled with thoughts of “WTF did I just do…is it the right thing….will Teddy adjust accordingly….?!”

Mine all mine!

Mine all mine!

I was quickly reminded of how much fun apartment living can be while celebrating with Mom on the patio.  All of a sudden, small rocks (pebbles, really) from the neighbor’s deck above fell through the cracks accompanied by screams of, “YOU CALLED ME A LAZY ASS! YOU F’ING BITCH!” More rocks thrown through the cracks. Ah, home sweet home.

My new patio wing...

My new patio wing…the rock quarry.

I had to share the news with my little B & B in Iowa via FaceTime. They insisted on cuddling while I recounted how much fun I will have posting about my neighbors above me.

Cray cray Aunt CBXB

What happened next Auntie CBXB?!

Father’s Day called from some southern spoiling for my dear old dad (and he hated every minute of it, as you can tell from the pics).

Spoiled father on dad's day.

Double fisting gifts.

CBXB gifted Dad with a pretty sweet BBQ hat and a framed quote regarding legendary status I came upon this weekend. My dad often refers to himself as “a legend” because he was an athletic stud in high school and college (which even led to some time in the NFL).

Lucky loot

Legendary loot.

The frame included this little picture…

My dad....the legend.

He expected nothing less from the classy gal he raised right.

Hanging with the Legend...

Hanging with The Legend…

All important margaritas were poured for our Father’s Day celebration (he was heavy-handed with his glass – go figure).

All important margarita

Just a few more ounces should do the trick.

My bro-in-law, celebrating his first Dad’s Day got the little twins giggling with delight (I wish he would call and make me laugh like that).

Fun Day Father's Day!

Fun Day Father’s Day!

Upon returning home from my parent’s house, I had to break the news to Ted that we would be leaving our mini-manse. He took the news about as well as I did when I found out last week …

Me taking the news (not so well, mind you) –

Smoking wreck

Ted’s reaction last night –

WTF were you thinking? I KNOW.

WTF? WE’RE MOVING?

I’ll keep you posted on the feline fun that is coming my way.

CBXB

CBXB!

How to Speak Man

Working with mostly men, I find myself sometimes unable to verbally convey what it is I mean in a language that is understood.  So while we’ve been relocating offices this past week, I came across a box I labeled before the move and got a good chuckle…think the message was conveyed?

Get It?!

I’m not sure yet because the box hasn’t been opened, so every man around here is still breathing.

For now.

CBXB

CBXB!