Boyfriend

This is my boyfriend.

 NOT my best work. I can't draw him in my style, so screw it, we're Adventure Time-ing this biatch for the rest of this post!

He takes great pleasure in the fact that he is easily several times my size (I'm barely five feet tall, he's over six and built like a grizzy bear had a love child with an ox, then that child had a love child with a dinosaur, and that child was him) and uses this to his advantage mercilessly when we get into wrestling matches, whether they be tickle-based or whatever else. He also thinks it's hilarious that I get creeped out easily by things like cardboard cutouts of people, puppets, Paula Dean and this weird bug thing he does with his hand that make me squeal like a little girl and run away. He does have his own weakness though, and it comes in the form of a small bit of rubber horror.

The rubber fetus.

BLARG I CAN'T EVEN DRAW AT STYLE RIGHT I SUCK.

This thing is a weird little...thing...that got handed out at the faire from this anti-abortion booth. It's basically a little rubber representation of a fetus developed at three months-kind of like a stress ball, but if you squeeze it you feel guilty. Or...well, should feel guilty, I guess, I don't particularly feel all that bad about smashing a little squishy baby fetus. That probably doesn't speak well for my psyche, but whatever.

Anyway, this thing creeps him the heck out. Threatening to put it in his bed is usually enough to quiet his bouts of random singing in public or whatever else he's doing at the moment. I can also chase him around the house with it. This usually ends with him locking himself in his room or something (after removing the handle because I can pick locks) or something of that sort. I threw it in his room once through the barely-open door, where it landed on his bed. He promptly locked me out of the room and tried to get rid of it. I could hear him yelling from outside the door.
Zack/Boyfriend: OH GOD IT'S TOUCHING MY PANTS
Me: *snickering*
Zack: AAUUUGHHH IT'S ON MY BED
Me: Do you want me to get it?
Zack: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHGH

And it proceeded roughly that way until he finally threw it out of his room again, where I collected it, threats were made on both sides. I think I won this round...though I still have to catch up, what with all the times he's scared the ever loving daylights out of me with the stupid cutout, the pictures of Paula Dean (seriously, the way she grimaces at the camera is horrible! It's like she's baring her teeth at you!), the little firework popper things, jumping out at me or any of the other things he's done that scare or freak me out. Bargle.

He also likes shows like Jericho, which I hate because they freak me out and make me jumpier than usual - like when some jets from the nearby air base passed by really close overhead-like, so close that the scream of the engines was literally physically painful, and the windows were rattling and the whole house shook-I freaked the heck out and for a second thought it was a missile or something, and I'm not usually paranoid at all.

That's a normal thing to think all the time, right?

Aaaanywho, boyfriend is the kind of guy who waves his arms around a lot when he talks, and sometimes the arm-waving is his sole answer to things. Like, when I asked him how he could possibly be hot earlier today, since I was cold, this was his reply:

He's the only person I know who can articulate keyboard spasm into words.

Yeeeeeahhh....

But all the weirdness is okay, because I get to cuddle up to him and he doesn't seem to mind most of my weirdness, so that makes everything okay.

Even though for some reason he doesn't like me biting him. Odd.

Fairly accurate depiction of our size difference, actually. XD

Job maybe?

Working on the next post, wherein my boyfriend is evil (big surprise), but I may be getting a job...I applied at the local Lenscrafters, and will be seeing the manager tomorrow, so hopefully I'll be employed again and this one will stick. So, yay for that! If it goes through, that is. I did help out at the optometrist's my mom worked for when I was a kid, though, and I do know quite a bit about glasses and contacts...eye health in general, and I've even used a lens cutting machine before, so hopefully I'll have a leg up on the competition. Plus they didn't put out a bunch of help wanted fliers or anything, so there might not be much competition in the first place. So, here's hoping!

Musashi and the Catnip

My boyfriend's cat is a weirdo.

Okay, so, we play RPG's on friday and saturday nights, the friday games cycling between Pathfinder and a TMNT based game. My boyfriend's nephew, Melvin, has sort've a hate-hate relationship with my boyfriend's brother's cat, Dude. Dude has a habit of attacking Melvin's ankles, probably because Melvin has cats of his own and probably smells like them, and Dude is pretty territorial. This story, however, is not about him, but he does factor into it.

After everyone had arrived and we were setting up for game, Melvin headed into the kitchen for a soda. I was in there as well, debating on whether to reheat a piece of leftover pizza for dinner, make a sandwich because it was kind of warm and I didn't want to have to wait for a pizza to reheat, or just get more salsa and have tortilla chips for dinner because I didn't like the only kind of sandwich meat we had. I ended up going with the last option because I'm kind of a lazy hobo like that.

Ha, no.

Anyway, after the  obtaining of sustenance, Melvin and I started heading back, but Dude was blocking one of the exits from the kitchen looking menacingly at Melvin's ankles, his favorite biting spot. Since I didn't want Melvin to have to kick him across the hallway, I persuaded Dude to follow me by scratching at the base of his tail and leading him away so Melvin could stealthily sneak off, and deciding that it'd be a good idea to keep Dude distracted as long as possible, I found a small bag of catnip and sprinkled a bit on the ground, before putting the bag back on the countertop where it always resided.

This was a mistake.

Kids, don't do drugs.

Musashi, the small gray furball belonging to my boyfriend, had witnessed all of this from what she thought were concealing shadows under the table. (It was painfully obvious where she was, but I don't want to hurt her feelings by telling her she sucks at ninja, so I let her think I can't see her.) Upon me returning to the dining room for the game, Musashi observed Dude rolling about in drug-induced bliss on the floor, decided she wanted some of that action, and knew that Dude wasn't much when it came to sharing-so she was going to help her own damn self.

Now, the counter was just a regular kitchen counter situated beneath the cabinet that housed the dishes, about four feet-ish off the ground. We've never had a problem with Dude getting on the countertops, like, ever, because he's so fat that he can't heft his own body weight off the ground to reach anywhere near that height. Mushashi, however, is a very nible, spry, slender cat, and she has proven to be able to jump quite a bit higher than the cabinets whenever she pleases.

Musashi is fully capable of defying gravity and physics at will. Dude is barely capable of walking.

Musashi hopped up onto the counter, somehow figured out how to get the catnip bag open, and stuck her entire head inside.

Not only did she inhale the cracktastic scent of it that drives cats nuts, she also started eating it.

And the gates of Chaos opened...

Luckily I had to return to the kitchen only moments later, having heard some odd noises coming from it, and found her in that situation. I promptly seized her, removed the bag from her head and sealed it up again. This did not please her.

Seriously, kids, don't do drugs.

She started thrashing and wailing and biting like a rabid squirrel on PCP, making it very difficult for me to hold her. After putting the bag in the cabinet above the oven, where I was sure she wouldn't be able to reach it again, I decided she needed a chill pill. The best method I've discovered to calm her down is to hold her on my lap while I sit cross-legged, wrapping her up in a blanket. Usually when I have her snuggled into a cat taco, particularly if it's a soft fuzzy blanket, she will calm right down, curl up and go straight to sleep. I also seem to be the only one who this actually works with, which makes me feel somewhat special, like I'm radiating some magical aura of animal calm-makery...stuff.

It didn't work this time.

ALIEEEENNNN!!!

I tried to hold her on my lap and force her to settle down in the soft, fuzzy confines of a red plaid blanket and my own lap, but she was too determined to get to the stash and continue her drug binge for that to work. Eventually I got tired of my abdominal region and arms getting eaten by those little fishbone teeth of hers, so I banished her to her crate until such time as the drugs were out of her system.

She had to stay there overnight, and seems to have calmed down now. Other than her typical attempts to break into my boyfriend's parents' room, she hasn't really been doing anything. I'm pretty sure I should be worried by this though, as it most likely means she's plotting my demise, and phase one is to earn my trust again.

I'll have to keep an eye on this development.

All artwork on this blog is Copyright(c) to me unless otherwise stated.