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Apr. 26th, 2004 11:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apocalypsosHey, 'Siamese death squad' sounds a hell of a lot cooler than 'cuddly wuddly kitty brigade', all right?
Anyway, I called my mom today to taunt her with my zoo visitation, and she was telling me sordid tales of what the hell the cats have been doing -- in particular, Spencer and Owen.
Spence, as you may recall, is the baby. And Spence loves you. He doesn't know you, but he loves you just the same, because you have hands. And of course, being as he's so absolutely adorable, you of course feel compelled to scratch under his chin and rub his tummy and whatnot. He's like Nermal, in a way. ('Cept if you ship him to Abu Dhabi, I kill you lots.)
As overpoweringly adorable as Spence is, he is a dumbass. And I say this because Spence is the moron who jumped into the kitchen sink and burned his paw on a skillet my mother had just finished using. Apparently, the burns were bad, so my mom bought a bunch of baby socks to put over the bandage so Spence wouldn't try to get at it. This was, of course, a silent challenge, and Mom had to resort to putting one of those delightful plastic collars around his neck.
Now, as you can imagine, he bore a startling resemblance to that dog in One Crazy Summer, with the slight disadvantage being that he looked like an even bigger dork. That was okay, however, because you've never seen such an optomistic cat in your life. You know how when you have a lot of cats and/or dogs, and you're eating lunch, and they all crowd around you, and so you start tossing them bits? And inevitably there's always that one poor schmoe who doesn't get as much as the rest? Imagine his ultimate revenge were a giant satellite dish around his neck. All you had to do was pitch whatever hunk of food you were throwing to him at the cone. If you made it in, he got to keep it and you got a Kewpie doll. If you didn't, he reached down to get it and the cone suddenly became a buffer zone.
Well, apparently his foot was all healed over, so Mom took off the bandage and tossed the cone. Ecstatic at his newfound freedom, Spence promptly crawled inside my father's La-Z-Boy and didn't come out for a half an hour.
Aaaaaand then there's Owen. Owen resembles your usual Siamese cat, with the wedge-shaped head and the long sleek body and the beer gut. Wait, that's not right ...
Owen is also, by the way, the perv. Not an incredibly gross "Oh, my God, what did you do with my Teddy Ruxbin?!" kind of way, but in a more general "Hey, where'd my thong underwear go?" Owen started off small, with women's underpants. Then he moved onto our bras, and then some women's fashions pimp must have snuck into our house and had a talk with the poor guy, because the next thing you knew, he was casually dragging my mother's ginormous terrycloth robe through the house. It probably wouldn't have been so bad if Owen's closest physical resemblace isn't to a potato with four coffee stirrers stuck into it, or if his closest personality resemblance weren't those seagulls in Finding Nemo. (You know that blank stares those stupid birds had? Uh-huh.)
In any event, my mother redecorated the parental bedroom, which now looks like the Moose Fairy snuck in and pulled a little guerilla interior design on the place. (Apparently, now there are antlers. Ooo-kay.) One of the new pieces is a soft, cream-colored blanket at the end of the bed that, for all intents and purposes, is the love of Owen's life. He adores it. Whenever my parents leave, he tugs it off the bed and takes it on romantic field trips of the entire house. "... and this is where we eat, and this is where I sleep, and that's where Spencer eats flies ..."
The thing that amuses (and annoys) the hell out of my parents is that this blanket is huge in comparison to awkward, bow-legged Owen. So my dad, the curious guy that he is, set up a camera to catch him in the act.
The best part isn't that he was caught doing it, though. (Not yet, anyway.) It's that my brother brought some friends home the other day, and now it's going the rounds that my parents have a video camera set up pointed directly at their bed.
*snerk*
Yeah, it's true. But I really wish I could have heard my brother trying to explain it. *giggles*
Anyway, I called my mom today to taunt her with my zoo visitation, and she was telling me sordid tales of what the hell the cats have been doing -- in particular, Spencer and Owen.
Spence, as you may recall, is the baby. And Spence loves you. He doesn't know you, but he loves you just the same, because you have hands. And of course, being as he's so absolutely adorable, you of course feel compelled to scratch under his chin and rub his tummy and whatnot. He's like Nermal, in a way. ('Cept if you ship him to Abu Dhabi, I kill you lots.)
As overpoweringly adorable as Spence is, he is a dumbass. And I say this because Spence is the moron who jumped into the kitchen sink and burned his paw on a skillet my mother had just finished using. Apparently, the burns were bad, so my mom bought a bunch of baby socks to put over the bandage so Spence wouldn't try to get at it. This was, of course, a silent challenge, and Mom had to resort to putting one of those delightful plastic collars around his neck.
Now, as you can imagine, he bore a startling resemblance to that dog in One Crazy Summer, with the slight disadvantage being that he looked like an even bigger dork. That was okay, however, because you've never seen such an optomistic cat in your life. You know how when you have a lot of cats and/or dogs, and you're eating lunch, and they all crowd around you, and so you start tossing them bits? And inevitably there's always that one poor schmoe who doesn't get as much as the rest? Imagine his ultimate revenge were a giant satellite dish around his neck. All you had to do was pitch whatever hunk of food you were throwing to him at the cone. If you made it in, he got to keep it and you got a Kewpie doll. If you didn't, he reached down to get it and the cone suddenly became a buffer zone.
Well, apparently his foot was all healed over, so Mom took off the bandage and tossed the cone. Ecstatic at his newfound freedom, Spence promptly crawled inside my father's La-Z-Boy and didn't come out for a half an hour.
Aaaaaand then there's Owen. Owen resembles your usual Siamese cat, with the wedge-shaped head and the long sleek body and the beer gut. Wait, that's not right ...
Owen is also, by the way, the perv. Not an incredibly gross "Oh, my God, what did you do with my Teddy Ruxbin?!" kind of way, but in a more general "Hey, where'd my thong underwear go?" Owen started off small, with women's underpants. Then he moved onto our bras, and then some women's fashions pimp must have snuck into our house and had a talk with the poor guy, because the next thing you knew, he was casually dragging my mother's ginormous terrycloth robe through the house. It probably wouldn't have been so bad if Owen's closest physical resemblace isn't to a potato with four coffee stirrers stuck into it, or if his closest personality resemblance weren't those seagulls in Finding Nemo. (You know that blank stares those stupid birds had? Uh-huh.)
In any event, my mother redecorated the parental bedroom, which now looks like the Moose Fairy snuck in and pulled a little guerilla interior design on the place. (Apparently, now there are antlers. Ooo-kay.) One of the new pieces is a soft, cream-colored blanket at the end of the bed that, for all intents and purposes, is the love of Owen's life. He adores it. Whenever my parents leave, he tugs it off the bed and takes it on romantic field trips of the entire house. "... and this is where we eat, and this is where I sleep, and that's where Spencer eats flies ..."
The thing that amuses (and annoys) the hell out of my parents is that this blanket is huge in comparison to awkward, bow-legged Owen. So my dad, the curious guy that he is, set up a camera to catch him in the act.
The best part isn't that he was caught doing it, though. (Not yet, anyway.) It's that my brother brought some friends home the other day, and now it's going the rounds that my parents have a video camera set up pointed directly at their bed.
*snerk*
Yeah, it's true. But I really wish I could have heard my brother trying to explain it. *giggles*
