Friday, December 24, 2010

It's That Time!

Merry Christmas everyone!  It's my first Christmas with multiple animals and I have been "enjoying" the "thrill" of having a cat (or two) in the house with a Christmas tree... Wally is the "innocent" one under the tree...


Kristen, Zoee, Mya, Wallaby, Sushi, and Dilly

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Some random thoughts on the last Pitt home game

So, Pitt lost the "Backyard Brawl."  It was quite disappointing and disheartening but, in the end, it's only a game.

I've come to love the experience of a big time football school.  I went to Grove City where the only thing that was really a big time thing was the idea that you were a heathen if you had not been reborn.  Not my favorite sport.  The feeling of camaraderie and unity and excitement is totally intoxicating.  It also makes me feel sad that I will never get to experience that thrill, that belonging, that pride.  I guess I'll just have to treasure my little contact high and make it my own.

Now... some total non sequiturs.

- It's a football game.  Leave the mink at home..... Sir.

- It's a football game.  Leave the pajamas at home.

- It's a football game.  Leave the 4 inch heels at home.... oh... sorry!  You're working!!

- The Pitt Band ROCKS!  This is not a music school.  There is no music major yet the band is absolutely fantastic!

- The new football unis are meh.  From the stands they were very clean looking.  Up close, it looks like they're wearing a backwards bib.  Oh well, they could be worse.... I guess.  The scary part of the uniforms was the poster that was handed out.  I thought I had escaped the poster when a sad, quiet man came up to me, poked me with the poster, handed it to me, and walked away....  guess he didn't want his either.

- I would think that alumni who spend money year after year for season tickets really care about Pitt football.  I am apparently wrong.  There is a family that sits in front of me that is the most annoying, pretentious, idiotic group of people I've seen in a while... well, at least outside of Venango County.  The Grande Dame sashays in and takes up 3 seats with all her shit - shit I have never seen her use, ever!  Then she stands and undoes her coats/visors/scarves/hats/sweaters/blankets/socks for like 15 minutes.  She also sweeps her hand through her hair and I get to watch the strays float my way.  Did I mention that they come late?  Yep, late every game.  Daddy just goes for food and visits with all the other usual suspects in the section.  There are three kids that come and all they do is eat and whine... and those are the ones in their 20's!  So, I'm trying to watch the pre-show and they're holding court.  "Hi Bob.  How are you?  How's Janice?  Great!  Have you seen Steve and Stacy?  They had to move their seats.  Yeah, they had a little girl!  Blah blah blah blah... wha wha wha whaaaaaa.   Bleargh?  Harrrrrr hourrrr haourrrr.... Ho!  Mwah mwah mwah... magondy.  Sleeertttttttt."  You get the point.  And she's an imperious, pious bitch.  Her shit don't stink, I'm sure.  I won't miss them!  Plus their friend the "Jesus Christ, I can't see the game!  Sit down!" guy.  The first time he said it, it was amusing.  The tenth time, it was an eye roller.  The 2,099,503,948,096,809 time it's just plain FUCKING ANNOYING!!!!!!!!!  SHUT UP!!!!!  YOU ARE NOT FUNNY!!!!!  NO ONE THINKS YOU ARE FUNNY!!!!!

- There was a picture on the Jumbo-tron of the 1910 championship Pitt football team.  Unbeaten, Untied, Unscored Upon.  The guy next to me said, "Wonder if we could get those guys to play today."

- When the temperature is in the low 30's and the wind chill is in the 20's, wear pants... they are the wave of the future.  If you are not wearing pants, you deserve to freeze your nards off you miserable sack of water.

- Along with Shorts Boy is Pretty Girl.  Yes, we know you're pretty, but when you wear your little hip hugger pants, flip flops, tank top, and little cropped jacket with the useless hood (and I call it useless because you don't wear it - you are too worried about your hair!!!!!!), I have absolutely no sympathy for you.  Wear some damn clothes, dammit!!!!!!!!!

 - Hey!  Justin Beiber!  Your hair looks ridiculous... put the hat on and don't be so damn stupid and vain!!

- Surprisingly, I missed my annoying section buddy.  His voice is akin to a steel bar being smacked against your head as lemon wedges are squirted in every open orifice while the sounds of cats scratching metal plates are amplified and piped directly into your ears.  No one knows his name.  He has a single seat.  He only has one hand.  He is a Pitt fan.  Hail to Pitt.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

I AM the Crazy Cat Lady!!!

I love animals.  That's all there is to it.  Especially the fuzzy defenseless animals.  The cute abandoned, sad, needy animals.  The pitiful, big eyed, forgotten animals.

When I was a kid we always had dogs, Brittany Spaniels (as they were called "back in the day."  They now go by the name "Brittanys."  Very Cher/Madonna/J-Lo of them.)

Misty was my first dog, a brindle Brittany Spaniel - unfortunately you don't see many brindled around any more.  She was an outside dog, but she had a house with carpet and a blanket door and straw in the winter so it was ok.  She was so calm, so laid back.  She never jumped on me and she was just the nicest dog.  She hunted also - kinda pointed/leaned toward prey - and she always smelled like lilacs cause her house was in a lilac bush.  She passed away of old age... so sad.

Then when I was 5 or 6 we got another Brittany... Rusty.  He was rust and white and a boy.  I named him.  So original!!  He was a jumper and scared me until I got taller.  My biggest memory of Rusty was that he had the talent.... skill?.... to pee himself out of his cage.  That dog could pee 24/7.... ironically he died of kidney failure.  :(

Then we had a long dogless dry spell.  Finally we got a yellow lab named Candy.  Candy was my first inside dog.  What a revelation!  It was fantastic!  We taught her to stay in two rooms downstairs and she also became my dad's hunting dog.  I loved her!  You could lay on her, play tug, hold her... the nicest dog ever.  She had a stroke at the age of 11 and had to be put down.  It was one of the few times I've seen my parents cry.  I can't find a picture of Candy and that makes me sad.

A few years later we got Aggie.  A HUGE yellow lab she was also an amazing dog.  Hunter, pillow, blanket, you name it.  She also had this weird little hair thing going on on her forehead where the hair grew backwards.  She survived a torn ACL and bad hips.  She lived to be 10 which is amazing for how huge she was.  I miss her.

When I moved out of the house I felt lonely and went to the shelter to find the perfect dog.  I found him and named him Buddha.  A great dog, we were together about 10 months before I had to give him away.  A large dog in an apartment just wasn't working.  Add to that the fact that we had to go down umpteen steps and leave through two locked doors - it wasn't working.  I felt terrible... like a failure.  I'll never forget my friend Jimmy telling me not to feel bad, and that pet ownership was like dating:  "sometimes you have to break up with them for everybody to be happy."  Buddha and I broke up and it was a couple of years before I tried the dog route again.  I hope he's happy running around in a great big house with a great big yard.

Then... along came Zoee.  My sweet tiny Shih-Tzu!  She's litter box trained, sleeps with me, and is so damn cute!!!!!  She is sort of my Doggie/Kitty.  I never had a cat or a small dog so it was all a learning experience.  She doesn't shed either which is WAY cool!  She's 6 now but because she's so small she looks younger.

Then... it happened.  Jennifer knew of someone with a litter of kittens. I was excited but a little scared.  My biggest fear was that Zoee would hate me and run away from home!  So, after much thought and much stress, I got Mya.  Sooooooo sweet!  Best thing ever!  And slowly, I moved from being just a dog person to being a cat person.  She's so shiny and fluffy and loving.  She actually likes to be around people and she's not stuck up at all!  Her favorite toys are a paper bag and a fish on a bungee.  She pulls so hard on that thing that the suction cup keeps popping off the door!  She and Zoee had a love/hate relationship for a while.  Zoee hated Mya and Mya looooved Zoee.  :)  Now they are at the point of calm indifference with the occasional beat down.

I thought I was set.  One cat and one dog (oh... I didn't even mention the fish!!  Sushi the beta and Dilly the goldfish!!  Can't forget them!!)  Then, it happened.  I came home from practice one night to see a little cat in the parking lot... so cute and it looked so cold and so alone and it had a wound on its shoulder.  :(  I sat outside for like 4 hours just trying to get it to come to me.  The next day, I deployed food.  Kitty came a little closer.  The third day, I deployed food and tried to get kitty into the airlock... that was a big fail.  Kitty is fast!!  I acquired some battle scars, but kitty got the food and freedom.  Over the next few days I tried to catch kitty with tuna and food and a normal crate and had some help from Jennifer and Dicky.  Then, the plan.  Dicky brought me a live trap and within 6 hours, kitty was captured!  I brought kitty in and started to feed him.... (there was a ball sighting so he is officially a he).  His wound started looking better and he was loving and cuddly and everything was going well.  Then Sunday morning.  His wound looked different... kinda like a blood blister.  Well, it was different.  I picked him up to put him in his cage when suddenly....
SpLurT!!!!  PlBbbttTTttt..........

The wound!!!!

That wound exploded!  All sorts of icky came flying out of it... and onto my foot.  My bare foot.  In between the bare toes of my bare foot....  uh...... EW?!  Immediately we rushed to cleaning mode and I called the service and spoke with a vet.  We kept an eye on him and did warm compresses and such.  I have to admit, it was fairly disgusting.  It was gaping and looked like a pouch or a pocket.  So the wait was on to take him to the vet the next morning.  The really sad part about this was that he didn't even have a name yet.  Poor thing... he was called everything we could throw at him.

Next morning, No Name and I were at the vet where it was determined that he needed stitches.  I came back later to get him.... and finally..... after a week of pain and ick and stress and mini animal strife and introduction to the inmate population...

Meet Wallaby - Wally for short.   :)

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Dear Ms. 1990's Chevrolet Cavalier:

If you are so busy texting while driving that you don't see us flipping you off, then you should stop driving.

So, Ms. 1990's Chevrolet Cavalier, STOP DRIVING!!!!  I MEAN IT!!!!!

Thank you.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Dear Mr. 1980's Chevrolet Cavalier:

I really did not appreciate you flying up on my ass like that UFO in Close Encounters.  Then, to add insult to injury, you zipped in front of me without using your signal and crossed two lanes of traffic to exit the highway.  Really?  REALLY?

WTF Mr. 1980's Chevrolet Cavalier.

Do not do it again.

Thank you.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Someone kill me now

I'm listening to Christmas music...  NOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Ok... I'm not a huge fan of holidays.  My dad was a state policeman and for 35 years, holidays were just another day.  Dad went to work and we just did whatever we wanted.  No family get togethers, no traditions, no stress.  Thanksgiving was just an excuse to have a turkey dinner.  Easter was just an excuse for ham.  Fourth of July was just that... the fourth day of July.  If he worked 8 to 4 we had Christmas at 6 am.  If he worked 4 to 12 we had Christmas at 8 am.  If he worked midnights we had Christmas when he got home at 8 am.  Simple, right?  Right.  Wrong.

My mantra (courtesy of Paul McCartney) is "It's just another day."  That doesn't go over very well these days.  Christmas is now a frickin' production!  Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not a total Scrooge.  It's exciting and fun to watch the kids be excited... and that makes them more excited when they see us excited about their excitement.... you get the exciting picture.  The part that really jerks my pickle is all the crap surrounding the fun part.  All the other crap is just that... crap.  It's really about the kids, so we'll survive.  :)

I guess, in the end, I enjoy the music more than the holiday but I broke my own rule... no Christmas till after Thanksgiving!!  I should be punished.  With Christmas music... yeah... that will teach me!

Monday, November 1, 2010

How does this here new fangled blog thing work? (Killer Orris returns!!)

Ok, so my first Blog post was kinda lame and kinda middle schooly....  I don't want to be middle schooly, I want to be witty and wise and engaging and... I should just give up now.  So, to all my follower, I apologize for the first blog.  It was very anti-climactic and just plain lame.  Mea Culpa my dear minion, Mea Culpa.

Take Two: *snap*

On Saturday, I went to the Pittsburgh Panther/Louisville Red Bird game.  Went to see my favorite bandy plus some great football.  I actually didn't have to go alone this week, Beth Orris of Venango Chorus (I know she looooooooves that rhyme!) came with me.

The morning wasn't too awfully early and the drive was super fast.  Found the parking garage.  Found the stadium.  Found the band.  We are batting 1000!  Then.... Mr. Adventure tugged on our pant legs.

I am not a high maintenance gal by any means.  If it doesn't fit into my pockets, I don't need it.  However, I recently lost my wallet and purchased a new one of larger size and heft... I can't lose it anymore, but it doesn't fit in my pockets.  Thus, the purchase of one of those pillowcases-with-strings kind of bag that I now never leave home without.  Beth had a super fantastic new L. L. Bean backpack with cup holders and zippers and the works.

We watched the band pre-show concert and the drum line.  We next found where the will call table was and went to go through "Landmark Security."  Now, security consists of some tiny women in huge yellow jackets looking in your stuff and swiping their hands under your arm pits and down your legs to make sure you ain't packin'.  I breezed through... one coat and one pillowcase bag with wallet, ipod, keys, and woolly hat.  Then, the troublemaker.  Beth Orris.  Probably on the "No Camel" list in Saudi Arabia for her stunt some 20 years ago.  Beth Orris with her bionic ankle and slippery fingers.  Beth Orris who knows at least 293 ways to kill a man.  Beth Orris with her dangerous and lethal...... back pack?

Yes... back pack.  The poor woman has a killer cough and a new ankle.  She brought a box of Kleenex, a jacket, two apples, and some cough drops in her back pack.  Back packs are apparently illegal in Heinz Field.  Landmark Security was less than kind:

LS - I'm sorry, no back packs are allowed.
BO - What?  I just have some Kleenex and a jacket and...
LS - I'm sorry, we can't let them in.
BO - But what do I do with my back pack?
LS - You'll have to take it back to your car.
BO - You don't have anywhere to check it?
LS - No, I'm sorry.
BO - But we're parked a mile away and I have an ankle replacement!
LS - No back packs.

So, off we go around the corner and hatch a devious plan.

Killer Orris puts on her jacket and begins to stuff her pockets with all of the things in her backpack.  Pretty soon she looks like Michael Keaton in Johnny Dangerously in the "Your Testicles and You" clip. I'll leave you to google that...  :)  So, after the items have been stowed away, it is now time for the deadly back pack.  We decide that the back pack WILL fit in my pillowcase bag, so we begin to scrunch and shove and push and tie and roll this poor backpack into a little tiny ball.  Then the back pack gets shoved into the bottom of my bag and is hidden with hats, scarves, ipods, tickets, etc.  Now, trying not to look too guilty and trying not to knock anyone over with her bulging pockets, we try another gate... we know it's the wrong gate, but we are still a little sheepish looking.  They send us out and we walk back to our original gate deciding that we will enter at different times and try to Jedi mind trick the little security chick into forgetting that we were carrying contraband just 10 minutes before.

As we walk up to the gate... lo and behold!  A second female security person thing.  YAY!  We go to her and all she does is feel the incredibly hard compact heavy "hat" that I had in my bag and she checks Killer Orris' pockets and in we go!!!  Take that, Landmark Security!  Take that!

Sigh.... the rest of the afternoon was filled with ennui.  Just the usual balancing hot dogs on your heads and trying not to trip on drunken college kids and not taking anyone out with the now stuffed pillowcase.

It was a great day and a great game and a kick ass band!

Final Score = Killer Orris 1 - Landmark Security 0

Friday, August 6, 2010

Destruction of a Doormat

How many times can you be walked on before you split in two?  How many times can you be walked on and not trip someone.

I live my life in a naive world of trust and mutual respect.  I expect what I send out to be returned to me.  When will I learn.

I do not like confrontation - I believe only very egocentric people do - and I try like hell to avoid it.  I like openness and consideration and honesty and respect.  Now class, I'd like to spend a moment with each of those things.

Openness - characterized by ready accessibility and usually generous attitude.  This is one of the definitions, but they are all basically the same.  I have an open door policy in my work and my life.  You ask a question and I will give you an answer, and I will give you that answer in a nurturing and positive manner.  No screaming, no subversion, no sneaking.  Along those lines... I cannot fix that which I do not know.  If there is a problem, talk to me and we'll work through it together.  And no PETTY SHIT.

The world seems to run on petty.  The further I get from middle school, the closer the drama gets to me.  Everyone needs to lighten up a little.  Not everyone is out to get you.  Not every joke is about you.  Not every comment reflects you personally.  Not every decision is yours to make.

Consideration - thoughtful and sympathetic regard.  In other words thinking of something other than yourself.  I feel I am a considerate person.  I worry about people when they are ill or stretched too thin.  I worry about people when they have had no rest or no time off.  I worry about people who close me out because I'm afraid that it's something I have done.  I will bend backwards to make your life easier... if you let me and I will do it at cost to myself and with no fanfare.  Does anyone know how many bullets I've taken for them?  No, because I don't need to broadcast my successes or achievements.  Does anyone know how I keep everything together?  No, because I don't need sympathy to buoy my ego.

Honesty - is such a lonely word, everyone is so untrue... honesty is hardly ever heard, and mostly what I need from you.  Billy Joel said it best, you can't deny that fact.

Respect - to consider worthy of high or special regard.  I know when I'm out of my element.  I know when I am out of my league.  Not only do I know, but I recognize it by giving that person every freedom to explore and freedom to release their greatness.  Why is my respect taken as a sign of weakness?  Why is my respect used against me?

I DO NOT want to chase people to beg them to allow me to be included in my own activities.  I WANT THE SAME RESPECT that I give to everyone else.  I DESERVE to be recognized for the things I do.  I AM NOT A DOORMAT.