Friday Confessional

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Confession – It’s Good For The Soul

I Confess….

I DID watch pieces of the royal wedding this morning.

I really couldn’t have cared less as  I think fairy tales are just that and when the rubber meets the road,  royalty or not, it can make for a rough day/week/lifetime.

I Confess….

I am still in my jammies at 2:25pm.

I have showered, put on my face and done my hair.

I spent about an hour on the phone with a friend.

But I just haven’t bothered to get dressed…yet.

I Confess….

This past week has been PMS central for me.

I was really on an edge one day, homicidal in fact.

I was totally depressed and fighting crying the next day.

Damn glad this only happens once a month and only to the extremes about every 3rd month.

I Confess….

While I’ve lost 5 pounds in the past few weeks, I feel fat today.

Not chunky, or pleasantly plump.

Flat out fat.

Guessing it is the PMS?

I Confess….

Despite the PMS.

Despite the fact that everything in my life is not perfect.

Despite everything not being completely ‘right’ in my world…

I am pretty damn happy, and if I count up my blessings, I think I am the most blessed and luckiest  woman on the planet.

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Friday Featured Friend

Friday Featured Friend Feline

Today I am featuring one of the Diva Den cats, Ms. Ditzy, who feels she  needs a soap box to air some grievance she has with me.  So, I decided to let her have at it.  She is our 3rd, and for now, final cat addition.  Roughly 6 months old, we refer to her as our ‘special’ cat, as in mentally touched.  She is NOT the brightest bulb in the box.  Here she is with her first post:

Greetings to all of you, my name is Goddess, you may call me Princess.  I am well aware that the staff refer to me as ‘Ditzy’ but that is their disrespectful name for me.  I am royalty, after all.  I mean, look at that photo, that is a true Princess, don’t you agree?  Of course you do.

I’m more than just a tiny bit miffed of late at the staff member that feeds us fabulous felines,  the one you know as Marvi Marti.  As far as her duties of feeding us, we give her a ‘C+’.  Too many evenings she arrives back at the palace late,  or just seems to forget us, how rude!

But it isn’t her lack of attention to our food dishes that has my tail puffed up like a Christmas tree.  It is her inability to accept that the one she refers to as Mr. Wonderful, belongs to ME!  He is the staff member in charge of entertaining me, and my most adored play thing.  SHE thinks he is here for  her and frequently distracts him from his duties: playing games with me.  It brushes my fur the wrong way, and it simply must stop!

My very favorite game is fetch.  Stop gasping, we cats taught the game to dogs, they just try to pretend they thought of it first.  Seriously, dogs have  no brains whatsoever.  Kick them and the fools come back wagging their tails.  Kick us? OH big mistake, we will poo in your bed, chew the tassels off your favorite shoes, fling the litter box contents all over, or trip you in attempts to kill you on the stairs.  We cats are gods, get used to it.  We punish those that serve us when they are incompetent or anger us.

Let me tell you what this not so marvelous one does.  My man-toy arrives and as the staff opens the door, there I am sitting pretty as can be near the door awaiting his adoration.  What does the Marvi do? Steps in between he and I and into his arms, making him hold and kiss her.  I know, right? HOW RUDE!!!  Then he tries to appease me after the wench has gotten her fill.  REALLY not happy about this at all.

Do you think she is at all lagging in making sure he has something to eat? OH no!  She will wait on his every need, getting him a drink and even turns her phone off and puts her computer away.  Unless of course he wants to dance with her, then he puts on romantic music and turns the lights down and dances with her, even singing to her!  Do you think he ever thinks to hold me and dance  with me, the goddess he is here to entertain? OH no, she has him all to herself and refuses to give him up!

The past three evenings he has come over to play games with me and entertain my wonderful self.  At first, once she was done slobbering all over him at the door, he sat on the floor throwing my crinkle.  I impressed him with my abilities to jump and twist in the air (we taught dogs to do that while chasing frisbees), then landing feather light on my paws.  I would walk all regally back to him, dropping the crinkle at his side allowing him to continue our little game.  While retrieving the crinkle, I find SHE has once again diverted his focus to HER.  There he is, head in her lap while she is rubbing his head and cooing at him!  Or worse yet, has  her head in HIS lap while he is rubbing her head!  REALLY????  And do you think he requests a back scratch from me,  the one with the natural claws? OH no, he asks her, the lowly food wench,  to use her fake talons to scratch his lovely, muscled and tattooed back.  It makes me want to heave up a hairball in her shoes.

One would think this staff member would be tripping over herself to please me after stealing my man-toy, but no, she continues to ignore every opportunity to pay me homage.  She has a window kitty cat television right next to the desk lounging platform in her sleep chambers.  There are few things we felines enjoy like watching our kitty TV.  Do you think she raises the blinds turns it on when I paw the ledge and ‘meow’? Oh no,  she shoos me of the room and closes the door.  She doesn’t seem to grasp that there are NO doors ever to be closed to us of tailed divinity.  NONE of our staff seems to understand this.  HUMANS! Such simple minded low life they are.

PMS, Pixel Dust & Fantasy Dialog

7 years ago I had a hysterectomy and while it released me from monthly visits from the menstrual fairy, it did not relieve the PMS symptoms that invade my otherwise pleasant self and morph me into some kind of a demon possessed freak.  If anything, I would say that the older I am the more vicious and scary that demonic aberration can be.  I have 2 distinct days when it hits, and about every 3rd month the symptoms are to the extreme.  One day being the depression day, when I have the blues and will cry at the drop of a hat over ridiculous things, the other is anger day.  I feel it push the rock from in front of its cave, oozing out to course through my veins, taking over any rational thought or irritation and turning into a nuclear melt down.  Yesterday was odd, both hit at once and I flipped back and forth between them as if someone was randomly flipping a switch.  Thankfully the Lexapro does keep things in check so rather than a full blown radioactive disaster we just had a bonfire of anger at times.   I took it out on the soon-to-be ex-husband, who better?

The dung hit the fan blades when I began thinking about the 26 year old bimbo that began sending him her photos on his cell phone within a week of him telling me he wanted a divorce.  She turned up on his Facebook friends a few months prior.  He bragged to some coworkers about this 26 year old being interested in him when the pictures started coming, a big hairy deal for a 45 year old man.  I’m supposed to believe him that she was not in the picture prior to his sudden shift in attitude toward me in those months before telling me he wanted out but that is a little tough to accept.  No man I have consulted for a guy’s opinion is buying it either, in fact all of them kept telling me this divorce likely had more to do with another woman than me.  I got upset on my way home from work thinking about how I had to give up MY husband, house, hot tub and pool and this little tart is now using all of those AND sleeping in my bed.  The embers smoldered into flames and I decided that I was not in the mood to be cooperative with him.   It was an evening of signing paper work that he had not brought the first time and providing copies of my drivers license.  I was NOT in a good place to say the least but happy to report that my prince turned loser in tin foil and I will be officially divorced on August 2nd.  A Monday because the courts don’t do divorces on Fridays.  I wanted it on our anniversary, thought it would be funny to end it on the same day it began but this year August 13th is a Friday, which would be even MORE fitting!

Fantasy dialog – those things you WANT to say or do but don’t, except to someone close to you that knows you’d never really flatten all 4 tires on the car that is parked entirely too close to yours when you come out of the store.  It is a form of venting.  Like last night after king of the swine (hey HE is the one that told me all men are pigs) stopped by.  I told the other Divas that, since the royal oinker is even more allergic to cats than I am, I’d love to take Pixel kitty over there and rub his pillow cases all over her the next time he is on duty at the fire house.  Cat dander would have his baby blues swollen shut and watering by the time he woke up sneezing all over himself.  My mom chimed in and referred to the dander as Pixel Dust.  Not to be confused with Pixie Dust, Pixel Dust isn’t going to help anyone fly no matter how many happy thoughts they can think.  Though if it was Pixie dust, it was one deliciously gleeful thought for me that would have had me soaring above the clouds!  Hmm..maybe rub his bath towel all over her too.

Today is a new day, the sun is shining, the weather is beautiful, and the evil monster is back in her cave.  Marvi me is back in her glory, wishing nothing but prosperity and happiness for the ex-hubby to be, right after a piano falls on his salt and pepper haired head. *wicked evil grin*

UPDATED 7:45PM

Seems the little ho-se bunny is MARRIED! Found her on my  son’s Facebook, along with her husband’s page, and they have a child,  looks to be about 2yo.  How precious  is that! Wonder if the hubby (who is a co-worker of one of my offspring) is aware  his  wife is spending a lot  of time in my former bed with the soon to be former hubby? Wondering is that the sudden rush to empty out the spare bedroom? Moving her and the little bundle of joy into  the house? How  delicious is that!  *wondering* will the little  girl call Pete step-daddy…or GRANDPA since he is old enough to be her momma’s daddy…..