SHARKS!

There are things that both fascinate and scare the crap out of me at the same time. Like sharks. I could watch hours and hours of shows about all kinds of sharks and never get bored. They should do a marathon like that on tv! Oh wait...shark week.

Let me qualify that: they should do a marathon like that on non-cable tv! I'm devastated that for the second year in a row if I want to experience shark week I have to mooch cable off of my brother and hang out his roommates, surrounded by beer cans and pizza boxes. So, when I was at Half Price Books the other day and saw a national geographic four disc set on sharks for $7 I was pumped.

This shark fascination isn't a fad for me. When I was little I didn't have monsters in my closet; I had sharks under my bed. To avoid the sharks I had to jump from my bed over the rug to the hardwood floor because they lived in the carpet. Duh. Even though I knew there weren't any sharks living in the Peterson's pool across the street I still freaked myself out every time I jumped into the deep end. Basically they scare the bejeezus out of me but at the same time I'm sort of obsessed.

It's kind of like Ebbie: she freaks out if she thinks she is going to get wet but is hypnotized with any form of running water. Maybe they should do a water week on Discovery Channel, too. I know my cat would watch. (If we had cable.)

(Comic from the lovely Natalie Dee)

Wasps...

...and I don't mean the Upper East Side kind. No, I mean the icky, nasty, buzzing, stinging, egg-laying kind. The kind that has decided to build a nest on my front overhang. Ebbie was fREAking out at the front door when I got back from up north and when I went to check it out I saw it: a papery oval hanging over my steps.

I had to bide my time until sunset to shoot those mother truckers with my Hot Shot wasp and bee killer (Up To A 27 Foot Jet Spray!) but I doused 'em good. Ebs and I stood inside the screen door after my covert assassination mission (of course I wore several layers of gear) and watched as a few wasps returned to the hive, landed, and immediately keeled over. They gave me the heeBEEjeeBEEs (get it? bees? yeah...) and all night I had creepy dreams about the eggs hatching and crawling through mysterious cracks in my house to get me.

They should all be dead by this morning but I left a note for the mailman, just in case.

Scamp

Ebbie is a scamp. See below.

"Crap. I knew my plastic bag fetish would land me here eventually. I'm so ashamed..."

"Don't make me get down! There are a full two inches here for me to be standing on and it isn't like this TV cost much or anything, right?"

"I thought I told you to change the station. Must I do everything myself? [Sigh.]"

"I'm cute. Love me."

My baby's famous!

I've been known to do a little shameless self promotion here on Sidenote: from time to time but this time it is Miss Ebbie that is famous! And on a dog blog no less.

Clearly she is unimpressed by all the attention. What can I say? She's a cat; she expects it!
Who's your dachshund in the middle of an amazing fundraising initiative so I encourage you to head over there, check out Ebbie's story and consider making a donation.

Miss Sue from Alabama

On first Halloween at The Stanford House I was thrilled to find I lived in a neighborhood where kids actually still went trick-or-treating. Where I grew up, everyone went to the street behind ours where the houses were closer together and there were actually street lights. So, needless to say, it was hard to tell who was more excited about the handing out of candy: the kids or me. One little girl, dressed as The Cat in the Hat, freaked out (in a good way) when she saw Ebbie tucked under my arm. "BOO! Boo cat! It's a boo cat!" And, from that day forward, "Boo" was added to the list of nicknames my little black (and white) cat has had to deal with.

For some reason this morning when I tried to call her "Boo" it came out more like "Beau" (I blame the ridiculous amount of murder/cop/detective shows I've been watching lately for keeping me up at night dissecting every single sound for a possible intruder). As soon as I said it the "Miss Sue" chant from grade school popped into my head and I have NOT been able to shake it. Did anyone else do that one? With the hand slapping and clapping and actions? After surfing youtube this is the closest I could come to my memory of recess but they do it a little differently than we did...

Our rhyme went like this...
MISS SUE. Miss Sue. Miss Sue from Alabaaaaaaaaama. Sittin in a rocker eatin Betty Crocker, this is what she told us. Miss Susie had a steamboat, the steamboat had a bell. Miss Susie went to heaven, the steamboat went to HELLo operator, please give me number nine. And if you disconnect us, we'll chop off your BEHIND the 'fridgerator, there was a piece of glass. Miss Susie sat upon it, and broke her little ASSk me no more questions, tell me no more lies. The boys are in the bathroom, zipping up their FLIES are in the meadow, the bees are in the park. Miss Susie and her boyfriend, are kissing in the dark, dark, dark dark dark, dark.

It must have been the whole Catholic school thing that made ours so naughty and scandalous (or maybe that's just what made it seem that way at the time?) Either way...the memories.

Sick Kitty-cat

I am totally preoccupied with my sick kitty and have started writing a post about a million times and just can't seem to pull it together. Ebbie will be FINE...but I'm a worry wart. We took a late night trip to the ER vet this weekend and antibiotics should have kicked in by now but they haven't so she is spending the day at the vet for tests. My regular vet is RIDICULOUSLY nice but I still hate to leave her since she was a shelter cat and those stacked kennels can't bring back good memories. I'll know more this evening and hopefully will be back on my game enough to write something entertaining!



Above pic is of Ebs in the exam room, trying to figure out what the heck was going on. Below is Bekah trying to entertain the kitty while I got her discharge papers and then the princess reclining on her blankies, all drugged up.

Ebbiversary

OK so once in a while I mention Ebbie but I generally don't gush because I don't want to sound like a crazy cat lady. This post is the exception...

Two years ago I decided I wanted a cat so I found an endearingly ugly little diluted tortie on petfinder, packed up my roommates and headed off to the humane society. The minute I picked up that cat I knew it wasn't meant to be mine so up and down the aisles of cages we went, peering in at sad little whiskers and noses. One after another was brought out for me to hold and play with but none felt right. Then, in the bottom right corner beind thin metal bars a small black cat with white paws and a milk mustache stood up and cried at me. "I think that cat is talking to me," I whispered.
"I think you're a little bit crazy," my roommate whispered back. While I was olding her in the crowded room a boy with Downs, about 12 years old, came up to me and asked, "Is that your cat?"
"Not yet but I think I'm going to keep her."
"Good," he said decisively. "It's a good cat. That is a very good cat. Very good." And that was that. As I signed the papers a volunteer came up and tapped me on the shoulder. He thanked me for picking that pint sized tuxedo cat and told me that because of her age (she was 6 at the time) and because she had been in the shelter so long she was on the schedule to be put down soon. Her past owners had gotten a kitten and when Ebbie didn't get along with the newcomer she was shipped off to the humane society. Whatever doubts I'd had before disappeared and we packed up and headed home.

1/28/07-Busted napping on Ebbie's first day home, she was already attached to my side
Before I even knew that T.S. Eliot insists all cats must have three names, Ebbie had already morphed into Ebony Fifi Manolo which to this day is what gets shouted when she has one of her naughty moments. For the most part she is the sweetest six pound creature you will ever meet and and has turned quite a few cat-haters into lovers.
She meets me at the door, licks my forehead when I'm sick, and sleeps tucked under my arm next to my chest like a teddy bear. When I talk to myself she cocks her head to the side. If I am sitting, she is in my lap. She runs to the door to greet me when I come home and gives me an earful about having left her. I can't move from room to room without my black shadow behind me and underfoot but I wouldn't have it any other way.

1/28/09-Still my little snuggle bug

The Black Cat Salon

Does your hair need an updated look? Are you stuck in 2008? Just want to feel and look great? Consider visiting The Black Cat Salon, featuring head stylist Ebony "Ebbie" Fifi Manolo. With 9 years of experience you have nothing to fear when Ebbie does your hair!

Customer reviews:
"I could tell she really cared about me, not just my hair." -JoAnn
"It was so relaxing, she really made me comfortable." -Cal
"My hair looked like a nest. Ebbie made me feel so much better about myself!"
-Kelsey (seen in video)

Still don't know if The Black Cat Salon is for you? Check out this video and your doubts will disappear.


To book your appointment, please use the comment section and know that Ebbie is very much looking forward to seeing you at The Black Cat Salon (located at The Stanford House).

Happy holidays

Blessings to you and yours...



Love,
Caley Jennifer and Ebbie-neezer (hahaha, get it?)

Sidenote: I haven't decided yet if I'll be posting during my Christmas break so I guess we'll all just have to wait and see!

Yawn

I couldn't agree more, Miss Ebbie. The rain is telling me to go back to sleep but my watch is saying I am going to be late for work. It is a yawning kind of a day.

Kitty Alarm

3:07am
Cat walks across human's face.
Human pushes cat away.
3:12am
Cat puts cold nose on human's forehead.
Human pushes cat away (tiny expletive sneaks out).
3:43am
Cat starts knocking anything not nailed down off of dressers onto floor.
Human turns on light and gives evil glare.
Cat responds with profound purring all over human's face.
3:45am
Human gets up, pours fresh food and water for cat.
Cat ignores both.
3:50am
Human puts hand on bed to crawl back in and feels ickiness.
Cat had puked in human's warm bed spot.
3:55am
Human strips bed, gives pukey cat plenty of attention, and tries to go back to sleep.
4:30am
Cat walks across human's face.
Human pushes cat away...
...and so it goes, until human's actual alarm goes off at 6:30.

This comic, courtesy of Mentor Pam, gives you a visual, in case you were having a hard time picturing these early morning happenings at The Stanford House.

"Don't leave me!"

Pretty sure that's what Ebbie was trying to say here.

Sidenote: Sorry for 1) the awful quality...the picture is from my cell since my camera battery died and I can't find the charger at the moment and 2) the brevity of the post...I woke up feeling a bit 'ick and am saving my words for the paper I have to write tonight (turns out I am as much of a procrastinator in grad school as I was in undergrad)

Ebbie does exist

Since there was recently some discussion as to the lack of stories about Ebbie on here, I thought I would post some proof that I do indeed have a cat. I couldn't resist adding pictures of some of my favorites peoples' favorite pets.

Ebony Fifi Manlolo (aka Ebbie) makes me laugh. A lot. Like when she plays on my bed, loses her balance and falls backward. Ok, I know it sounds cruel but I promise it is funny. See?

Plus, after she falls, and yes it happens fairly often, she always pops right back up and tries to act all nonchalant like nothing happened. Almost funnier than the fall.
Another one of her favorite tricks? Turning herself into a cat burrito. Sometimes Sister gets company at work from lady Bella, the french bulldog, who waits very patiently for an opportunity to snatch up her treat. Sister also had the pleasure of bringing Daisy DePierro to work with her when she was a baby. Convenient that she didn't take up much more room than the basic office supplies. One of Daisy's favorite pastimes is cuddling with her big sister, Sashie. Cuddling must be a "Daisy" thing because Mentor Pam's kitten Daisy's favorite thing to do is hang out with her brother, Spike. Daisy is the brains of the operation while Spike is pretty sure his full name is either "Spike NO" or "Spike stop-you'll-hurt-yourself." They (usually) manage to stay out of the way of their chaperone, the grown up cat Monkey.

And finally, one last video. This may explain part of why making the bed is such a challenge for me on a regular basis.


(Ebbie pictures and videos by me...sorry about the quality, they are from my cellphone. Other pictures courtesy of Sister and Mentor Pam)

Bad luck?

How much bad luck is it when one's black cat spills salt all over the kitchen table?


"What, me?" -Ebbie

p.s. I got a new camera...This means more "illustrated" posts. Whoot whoot!