ONE HUNDRED POSTS!!!

If I was professional, I would have all sorts of cool stuff to give you all. Like, um. . . giveaways and statistics, maybe? (See. I have no idea what I am talking about. I am a disgrace.)

Unfortunately, I am not a professional blogger. (So. . . yeah, no personalized phone covers. Sorry.)

Therefore, I am going to look at my tenth, twentieth, thirtieth, etc. posts and choose my favorite sentences.

Try to tell me that this is not the best non-kitten picture EVER. I call it a "crack" because it sounded just like those rice cake things your mom gives you when you're a toddler to occupy you in the grocery store, as opposed to stealing samples. My little brother still pertains to his opinion that I need a favorite dinosaur. [. . . ]we should have a big USING UP SUMMER FOOD! party. IMPROV EVERYWHERE I'm off to look through the window, the wonderful window by the door. But until then, we shall wait (and drink tea and eat cookies and read magazines!) Off to buy sunglasses for mah kitties and me to hide our fame. [. . . ]my little sister and mother rented a video called "Kitten Party" which was just kittens running around being cute for 75 minutes.

A summary of my blog in nine sentences. Thanks to all of you for reading, commenting, and pestering me to post when I am (embarrassingly) trying to hide in my hovel, isolated from all mankind including my wonderful friends.

Poll results and the Great Oil Spill

It occurs to me that it wasn't really smart of me to have so many options.

So, here are some more:

• I cancel out the options no one voted for and have a new poll.
• You all comment below telling me why I should use your specific idea.
• I have a poll for what to do about a poll.
• We pretend this never happened and do nothing.

So. . . what should I do?

In the meantime of me trying to write this post, we had an Incident.

Like most families do, we have a bottle of Canola oil in our kitchen (Yes, with a serving suggestion. Ick.) and it is made of plastic. When I see plastic, I think oh, plastic. When Perry sees plastic, he thinks CHEWABLE. I'll let you guess what happened at 11 p.m. two nights ago. We're still getting it out of stuff.

I need more brownies, stat!

AGAIN I have forgotten the anniversary of this blog. The six-month one, I think.

Sob, sob, etc.

Let's have some points of interest.

1. You all know (hopefully) how I love love love the etiquette/food/English language/fashion area at the library. You also know (probably much more so) that I am a bad conversationalist. This has led me to read two conversation books, which were interesting but told me that at least 80% of what I say isn't worth a thing. Joy.
2. This book also informed me that people do not like hearing cat stories 24/7. I already knew this, but with a lot of people all we have in common is that they think my cats are cute. . .
   
3. . . . so I think that there should be a designated day of the week for me to monologue about the week's adventures involving Daisy and Perry. See Poll.
   
4. I think the only reason "Je t'aime, l'ete" is the most viewed page is because I can never remember what it is about. I assume that this happens to you all as well.
5. I made Ghirardelli brownies. Nom.
   
6. MY SIMS GAME IS BROKEN!!! (More on this later.)

Kitchen Crime. . . .

Allo Bloggees! Emma here, apologetic and lazy. I've broken out the ol' camera to bring to you live footage of the newest addition to a file we call "Daisy and Perry Victims." Please note the lovely light and authentically distressed wood (yup, I contributed). Let's take a closer look, shall we?
Isn't it gory? We presume that Daisy did the damage, as Perry was in a cage and the corpse was found in Laura's room. Of course, Daisy mustn't get all the limelight: I present to you Perry's food. Blandness, anyone? (This picture actually turned out really well. I flatter myself as much to say that it looks magazine-esque.)

Perry=Stitches out=Elated Vets

Perry got his stitches out. I assume that it must be very annoying to have someone ogle over their cat for two weeks and such, but now you won't hear about Perry until he catches some muffins.

Perry still smells like the perfume of the vets who coddled him. Seriously. Reminds you of the Daisy story, perhaps?

*I go back to search for Daisy story in order to link it and find I have not posted it.*

When we first got Daisy, we obviously had to take her to the vet. (I AM sure that you all remember Daisy's cuteness.) Upon us letting her out of the carrier, the vet scooped her up and took her to the back room where the other vets/assistants were, and yes, we could hear them coddling. For a while. (We have great vets.)

Off to buy sunglasses for mah kitties and me to hide our fame. :)

Misc. Perry Day

By now, you all know that when I say "misc" I mean anywhere from 2 to x subjects. And guess what? Today is a one-sub-two-er-day-er-thing.

So, Perry gets his stitches out Friday, but he has also had a relapse, which I am very worried about. Ya know, I used to not like people who spent lots of money repairing their cats, but then I realized I just didn't like the people. Therefore.

Then we took him to the vet. Turns out, when the hospital told us to get him "Science Diet: ID" they meant "Science Diet: Intestinal Disorder" and not "Science Diet: InDoor". Plus he has more meds, as expected. Poor little caged kittum.

Poetic Truth and Daisy

I'm wearing destiny on my fingertips.

Sounds pretty cool, right? All poetic-y and artsy. Actually, my little sister gave me pale pink nail polish for Christmas and it is called Destiny. And I love it, not only for its color but because I was able to wear nail polish for the first time in six months because I didn't botch it all up.

Daisy has been acting odd lately. And by odd, I mean kitten-y. And by lately, I mean ever since Perry was gone/put in a cage. As I said earlier, we brought Perry home on Christmas Eve to much delight and a couple hours of driving. To keep him from jumping or running or licking his ugly stitches, we have contained him in an old dog crate--it is black wire and made for big dogs, so he has plenty of room. But what does this have to do with Daisy? With Perry indisposed, Daisy is The Only Cat. She has reverted to kitten-ness: ripping open food bags and my special annual Chex Mix, letting me pet her for five whole minutes and playing around rather than sleeping. Is this good or bad? Hmm....

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!!!

The Christmas miracle kitty is home! And I got a camera! With its own cord! I love the holidays.

Solstice and Perry

Every winter Solstice, my family gathers in the living room by the lit fireplace and eats cookies, receives an ornament, and writes poetry about the year gone by. It's nice, rather quaint tradition, and according to my mother it originated when I was little, because right before Christmas is when toddlers start to go a little bonkers. Solstice is a nice quiet holiday to calm down. My little brother wrote short three-lined poems with the last lines as questions, my little sister did an acrostic and writing couplets, my mother wrote an eerie winter poem, I wrote poems about the Amnesty Inc. pen that I kept breaking and our tree angel, and my dad wrote a narrative poem about how he gave $20 dollars to a needy man with the requirement that he spend it on his infant son, and then later saw him buying diapers. We each received an ornament and enjoyed s'mores.

Then, Wednesday morning, I called the cats for breakfast and Perry didn't come. I finally found him in his hut by the window, but he showed no interest in eating. He vomited several times and meowed whenever anyone tried to pick him up, so my parents took him to the vet. The vets thought he had swallowed thread or floss, so my dad drove him to a specialty vet an hour or so away. Then we went through our usual business, watching the telly, trying to write this blog post (it's been three days), and cleaning. (My room currently leaves much to be desired.) So they went into surgery, opened up his stomach, and lo and behold. . . PERRY HAS A HOLE IN HIS INTESTINAL WALL! It was something he was born with, but that did nothing to prevent my mother from removing all the tinsel and obsessively picking up fragments. All in good reason, of course. Perry is recuperating and is expected home today--we hope. If not, we go visit him with chicken baby food.

Happy Holidays!

Why I Haven't Been Posting; Also, Peter's Talisman

As you know, my posts have been far and few these last few weeks. Why, you may ask?

Because our stupid computers got amnesia.

1. My mom's laptop. Her story, her Sims games, gone. Very sad for all parties involved. Now it is fixed, though, and she has new Sims families.
   
2. Upstairs computer. We did get it fixed, but I have no bookmarks or favorites or ANYTHING. It. Was. Appalling. Also, Sims 3 only works for half an hour. Since Laura and I made a family with a musical teenager, three British-schoolgirl-esque triplet daughters, and crazy Cousin Arnold, who owns two cars and a motorcycle and has a huge mohawk, this SIMPLY DOES NOT SUFFICE. I mean, one can spend half an hour making Cousin Arnold live underground in a garage, and it WILL NOT SAVE.
3. This computer--downstairs. Last night, after lots of restarting, we clicked on my mom's name only to find that Everything was Lost. It is VERY maddening.

When I woke up this morning, figuring that I should explain this, I walked into the hallway to see Peter holding his "talisman"--a plastic squirt bottle to shoot Perry. In his other hand, he clutched a Playmobil Roman soldier-prince. The talisman in question was to protect him and make him feel safe from Jason, a hockey-mask-wearing, chainsaw-carrying character on a Halloween special for Roblox.

I have a coupon for Sims 3 Late Night--but we need to fix the computer first.

Periwinkle is an adult! On October the 19th, he finally switched to adult cat food.

3!

Ah, the number three. I recall a PE class in which, after surviving torture, you had to write something that fit into a subject--the subject being "multiples of 3". I was very pleased. While the other team stubbornly put "3, 9, 12, 15, 18, etc.", I put "0.03, 0.003, 0.0003, etc." It was almost as fun as the logical hula-hoop game.

Or 3 as in: "3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993. . . ", that is to say, pi. March 14, 2015, 9:26:53!

3 as in the amount of murders in my most recent novel--the passengers being, respectively, a jewel thief, an alcoholic, an illegal weapons smuggler, and the murderers and murderees.

3 as in "The Sims 3", which I got the newest addition of and appalled the dude at the counter by knowing which day the next add-on comes out. (October 26!)

3 as in the number of muffins Perry has stalked, perhaps because he finds them "easy prey". He will pick one up in his teeth and carry it to the living room to devour and play with.

3 as in the amount of tall onions that Daisy has munched the leaves/stems/whatevers of. She has SO much better breath than Perry.

3 as in the amount of Trident Fruit Stripe Gum pieces that I have given to my siblings. It is 6 months old. (Ssh!)

Most importantly, though, it is the number of months I have posted on my blog! Yay! *throws confetti into air*

Sun-day

Today I woke up at the lovely late time of oh-seven hundred hours. And nineteen minutes. This means only one thing. . . .

Kitty feeding time!

Perry was delighted, Daisy was mildly pleased, and I was disgusted.

Then, seeing that there was absolutely no one else up, I went back to my bed and read my murder mystery. Every character was a criminal, I think. Except for two. There were many triple-negatives. But what truly made my reading experience lovely was that my neighbors a football field or so away were playing their eight-a.m. concerto. The rest of my family slept until nine.

Peter went to his friend's birthday party yesterday.

Peter: *walks up steps*
(One of many of) Peter's friend(s): PETER!!! *giant hug*
Peter: Ack! *goes inside*
(From inside)Peter! Peter! I love you, Peter! It's Peter! I haven't seen you in forever, Peter! PETER!!!!

Yeah. . . .

We turn two! (kinda)

In the frenzy of the the weekend (post tomorrow), I forgot to post on the second-month anniversary! Oops! So sorry! But I did add the rating-thingy, so please go back and rate!

Short and sweet post because I need to dry my hair. And stop Perry from consuming my scrapbook stickers.

I have an addiction. . . .

To what? Chocolate? Club soda? Murder mysteries?

No, but good guesses. My addiction is to. . . reading the next books in series that I despise. I can't help it. And whenever I don't read the book, I feel really guilty. ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGG. . . why does there have to be such annoying literature?!?!?!?!?!

I mean, seriously. I'll read the worst book EVER and read its sequel because I just can't help it. IT IS SOOOOOOO annoying.

In other news, only my little brother would receive two cards with hearts and flowers on them and "Dear Peter, I love you"s. Sigh, how we slightly envy the famous.

Perry has just lapped up a tablespoon or more of syrup. Shame, piddums.

We dressed out THREE times in three minutes on Monday. Please don't get confuzzled again, teacher dahling.

L'heure de le chatton impoli!!!

A post of updates.

This morning, Periwinkle. . . :

a)Chewed on my basket.
b)Climbed up my curtains, and. . .
c). . . thus fell from the curtains onto my bin of sentimental stuff. . .
d). . . which promptly toppled over and sent Perry under my bed.
e)He then clawed up my bed-skirt.
f)Knocked down a ribbon from my tall bookshelf.
g)Knocked down a hairclip.
h)Messed up my scrapbooking shelf.
i)Was yelled at, by me.

Hair status: Duck-y.

Just finished The Murder of Rodger Ackroyd and actually got the murderer correct. Joy. I can get a job now. Hooray.

The Sims 3 Fast Lane comes out September seventh and the new Poptropica island is set to come out September ninth. I'm so excited!

***I also need to update my links bar in the sidebar. I know y'all have access to lots of interesting sites, so if you could comment below or email me them, I shall put them up!!!***

7:36 and I burned my finger.

I wake up on a Saturday morning. Cue birds, violins, etc. Rays of sunshine. Ya know.

Well, someone cued my cat. Remember this post? I should hope you do. Go reread it now. This will make more sense.

I have a pretty wicker basket in my room that I use to put books in when I finish them before bed, as opposed to slamming them on the floor. Perry thinks it tastes positively scrumptious, and it has teeny bite-marks all over it. Picture coming soon. He also likes to chew plastic to pieces, as showcased by our lovely ex-lid.

Anyway, I'd hoped Perry had grown out of his issues, but he hadn't, and came into my room at 6:15. So I messed up my artistically neat bed and, against my wishes, was forced to get up at seven. . . as I would have if my cat wasn't a psychopathic maniac.

I am very mad at my cat now, so I stumble downstairs to warm up a cinnamon roll for breakfast. However, I burn the cream cheese icing and, in my starvation and thus requirement of food, I burn myself as well. Just a little spot on the finger, but it's like a constant pain. I am not a hypochondriac/an exaggerator/dramatic.

Not bad for a morning of pain and hummingbirds.

[Like my new poll?]

My Cats and the Deathly Compost

Well, I think it'd be a best seller. And make movies. And be annoyingly popular.

There's nothing much to hodgepodge, but here are my rules for church dressing:

-No shoulders. We do not care that you are giving yourself skin cancer by tanning. I mean, we do care, but we're focusing on the Lord, not your shoulders. And some of us (me) are thinking about how stupid that is, even though we have to do it before the "forgive our sins" part.
-No backs. I don't even understand this one. Why would you want to show off your back? And who wants to look at your back?
-No flip-flops. It's very noisy. Even though they were very "in" last year, and they may be the only nice pair of shoes you have, DO NOT WEAR THEM.
-No layers. A nice suit jacket, shrug, or cardigan is okay. Church is cold, yes? But REALLY? LAYERED TANK TOPS?
-No miniskirts. Some of wish you would keep that at home. Most of us, actually.
-No t-shirts or anything else sloppy. I should think this was obvious. If you have nice clothes, wear them. If you don't, go buy some.

My rules for church behavior:

-No excluding people. Well, this is obvi. I pity you.
-No "pretending not to see" the eight-year-old usher. We do not discriminate. If he's the one closest to your entrance, then you receive the pamphlet from him. If you have to crouch on the ground, so be it. I do not pity you, I just hope you're not wearing a miniskirt. See above.
-No agreeing with whatever the minister says to your neighbor every time he says something. Come, come.
-No somersaults. I don't think I have to explain.
-No running. There are lots of sweet elderly people.

I digress.

Short and sweet; like my brownies and how long they last(ed)

Hair status: Renaissance Faire-y. Get it?

My little brother still pertains to his opinion that I need a favorite dinosaur. Update soon.

We have a new reading corner and I am relaxing whilst reading in my bean-bag-chair.

I allegedly need new jeans.

I just bought the last of my summer bread. Sigh.

Perry likes to sleep on the stairs. This concerns me.

And, at last, I have a recipe I wanted to share with you.

Makes one 14-ounce smoothie

1/2 cup frozen organic blueberries
1/2 cup frozen organic strawberries
1/2 cup chilled green tea, unsweetened
3/4 cup plain low-fat organic yogurt
2 tablespoons ground flaxseed
Turbinado sugar or other natural sweetener to taste

Combine all ingredients in an electric blender and blend on medium speed until smooth, about 20 seconds. Garnish with fresh berries and serve. Note: For a nondairy alternative, you can substitute cultured soy for the yogurt.

Thank you, Martha Stewart!

And with that, I conclude.

Cream Puffs, the evil time suckers of doom that taste yummalicious

See above for what I did yesterday. For six hours.

My mother has decreed that no one can go on the computer on weekends, to set a good example for my little brother, who is embarrassingly on the computer quite often. I hang my head in shame, etc.

My mom made Playdough Saturday, which we have adored to pieces. :) It is a nice distracting activity from TCOD.

We're going berry picking today, yay.

This is a rather roundabout post, with no real point. But I have lots of posts with points coming up, including rules from Laura's Master of Piercing's complimentary slip. Which reminds me: I may have forgotten stuff in that post, such as she can wear hoops immediately, get in the water, and got a lollipop after she got her ears pierced.

It's "Change the way you see yourself, not the way you look" week, and I wanted to tell y'all. http://operationbeautiful.com/

We got Perry a soft fluffy wand-toy which is now covered with cat spit. We also got SimCity Society, which we are very excited about. It's not the new Sims games, but still.

I am so glad I already went school shopping.

I'll be pointier tomorrow. From now on, Mondays will be Hodgepodge Day. And my favorite day.

I should really press "Publish Post."

Reaching. . .

Oh yeah, FOLLOW!!!

REACHING. . . .

Laura's UPDATED ears (yup, she did it)

Yesterday at four o'clock, Laura departed with *GASP* the intention of getting her ears pierced. (Yup, at the tattoo parlor, see here) and she did. She actually went through with it.

On his business card, Laura's piercer had "Super Wicked Awesome Master Piercer," which just shows that we did indeed get the right person to pierce her ears. It reminds me much of my cousins--the dealer from whom they bought the car had "The Master" on his business card, and thus provided a name for their car.

Instead of getting studs, she got a hoop. Not a big hoop, but it goes just-under her ear and back up again. As my mom keeps reminding her, she would have gotten the same mini-hoop if she had gotten her eyebrow or belly button pierced. She also got it pierced in a different way than my mom had. I'm not sure if this is widely used nowadays or what, so please voice in if you know. The guy used a hollow needle, so a tiny hole of her ear is in the compost as we speak.

Last night, we accomplished the difficult task of soaking her ear in salt water--five minutes per ear. The ordeal was awkward for her--seeing as leaning sideways isn't very comfortable--but great for Peter and me, who got to watch more television online. Television is evidently very good at distracting you from the eerie fact that salt water is dripping down your neck. We also got cream-cheese brownie pieces, which I fed to her.

She attests that getting her ears pierced hurt quite sharp for a second, and the first hurt less than the second. My little brother compares it to being clawed by a crawfish. And she can wear hoops immediately after getting the mini-hoops off at the end of September. And they make her look more grown-up, which is weird for me, because I am losing more of my big-sister rights.

So far, no infection or pain. . . I have the lovely joy of being asked to "smell her ears" because they have watermelon-scented antibacterial-soap.

As for a Perry update, last night he and Daisy stole a bag of compost left on the counter and took them upstairs to munch on--because it had bread in it. Sigh. And they ate it by my room, so that just proves what a lovely person I am. I bet all you lucky people can't say that, so. . . yeah. I'm awesome.