Sucker Punch was….awful.
Although I do believe I have found the formula they used to create the movie.
Sexy dancing+ Prostitution+ Guns+ Ninjas+ Hatred of Nazis+ Bioshock gritty hopeless realism+ Dragon Age-esque Hurlock monsters, Dragons, and knights+ Objectifying women+ Rape Culture = Sucker Punch.
The lady at the vet insisted I keep the cats apart for the first 24 hours after Henrik’s surgery.
I told her it wasn’t happening. Why? Because the 8 hours Henrik was gone, Henley acted like her whole world had ended. When I brought him back and he immediately hid under the couch, Henley stuffed her head under it to be near him, even though she HATES going under the couch.
When he finally came out and lay on the sofa, Henley curled up to him and groomed his face carefully.
My cats love each other. And I really don’t care if I pissed off the vet tech, because this was also immediately after she told me that Henrik “still needed some socializing.” No, he doesn’t. He was a feral cat. He loves me, and he loves Henley, and he sometimes tolerates other people. He is afraid of the pet carrier and the car. Of course he wasn’t nice to you in your office. I told you that he wouldn’t be.
I need a new vet. Hopefully we won’t have to go back between now and Texas.
All the time.
To my ex-boyfriend, who just posted this on FB:
“God gave me strength to lose these 40 lbs” blah blah blah.
You stupid fucking idiot.
God didn’t give you the strength to lose weight.
I think if there was a God he’d be a little more preoccupied right now.
How about you stand up for yourself and stop being a religious doormat and declare that you worked your ass off for three months and lost 40 lbs.
Also, you’re gay. Praying a lot isn’t going to change that.
As you probably already know, I have two cats.
Henley is almost 2 years old, and only 5.7 lbs.
Henrik is almost 6 months old, and 6.8 lbs.
Each cat has their own bowl. Henley has a shallow metal dish, and Henrik has a deeper dish. Henley will not eat out of the deeper dish at all, and most of the time Henrik eats exclusively out of it.
I feed my cats a blend of three different types of cat food.
Today I got up and Henrik’s bowl was half empty.
Henley had, near as I can tell, meticulously picked out all of the “indoor” formula pieces (which are bigger and lighter than the others) and left the rest.
I’m sick of the term “brown noser.”
If you’re the kid in the class that knows the answers and no one else is speaking up, and so you volunteer the information, you’re a “brown noser.”
I used to volunteer the answers because just sitting in a class where no one is speaking is the WORST thing to me. I don’t have time for this bullshit. I pay good money to be in this seat, learning this crap.
So if I know the answer, I’m going to say it.
And if you know the answer, why don’t YOU say it.
Otherwise, when I hear you calling me a brown noser, I’ll know what you really mean…
“I hate how smart that girl is.”
Sadly, I have thought of this MANY times…”they’ll have no way of knowing!”
This has come up when I’ve ruminated on suicide.
It’s not just me? Oh, good. Well, maybe not so good.
The “SO NOW I’M DEAD” text file on my backup hard drive features a list of sites and passwords. But it’s also occurred to me that even if Erin or Ari or someone informs people, everyone will think it’s an attention whore hoax. Not sure how to get around that one.
I also have a word document entitled “MY LIVING WILL” that distributes my stuff and my passwords. I assume that the amount of facebook and twitter mourning will suffice.