A brief and not at all comprehensive list of nicknames

The following is a list of commonly used nicknames for our cat,in no order in particular. 

I’m responsible for nearly all of them. 

  1. Party-squirrel. 
  2. Fuzzy smudgens 
  3. Dr. Toes 
  4. Dr. Pants 
  5. Professor toez 
  6. The dark lord 
  7. Squirrelly-beans 
  8. BUN. (confusing, seeing as I also call Alvin this) 
  9. Asshole 
  10. Squishybeanz 
  11. Chubby-nubbins 
  12. His lordship 
  13. Puca 

You’re welcome, people of the internet. 



A girl has no name

The results of my tests from 23andme tests should be back any time, and  I’ve been nervous for reasons I don’t completely understand . What is it that I’m afraid of, what answer do I not want?

I do not expect answers to my genealogy: I don’t expect anything but to see that I am 1/100th everything.
This entry was intended to be much longer, more obnoxiously introspective and witty. Instead, I did average things we all do. Make the cat a vet appointment( he grinds his teeth), pick up a check, pick up Alvin, make dinner for him and my *lovely friend. Apply assorted creams. Worry about millennial/human/american things. Tomorrow, I’ll return here with something more.. Something. 

For now,  I must spend precious dozens of minutes of gazing at imgur and drooling gently into a pillow.

Goodnight, you voyeurs. I love you. Most of you.

*you’re lovely even when you leave sad, lonely boxes stranded in the living-room.



Recently I started taking melatonin.  I don’t know that melatonin actually succeeds in helping me sleep, but then again I’ve taken actual sleep aids invented by doctors, so I feel like my view towards supplements can be a bit skewed. I take  a handful of supplements that have been proven to work by scientific research. After you’ve taken drugs that actually work you can’t go back to supplements and pretend they’re even remotely similar. They are fucking not.
At any rate, Gabba and melatonin are causing me truly  strange dreams that are boring in their usual-ness.

The dreams don’t tend to lean either  good or bad: They’re generally problem-solving scenarios.Basically, I’m trapped somewhere with some people and I have to help them get out of the situation. It tends to be incredibly stressful,  the Landscapes are strange and there’s an Ex thrown  in there that I can’t actually talk to easily.

Last night’s abstraction was loosely about wine labels. Basically,  I was running a business on what seemed to be another planet, and the same ex that always shows up in stress dreams showed up and was vaguely denunciatory. (maybe? It could be I just always worried he was?)  I’m attempting to defend my product while also not looking defensive and being genuinely happy to see this person, there is a massive fucking earthquake.

Cue the rest of the dream which is trying to get a person I have a difficult time communicating with out of a dangerous situation, while trying to find Alvin.

I’m sure that the specific ex-boyfriend shows  up in my brain because I feel some guilt over that relationship. A lot, really. You don’t always get to go back and say what you’d like, nor should you.

He’s always much, much taller than his reality, like a giant, as people tend to become in memories. As far as the stress dreams are concerned, this is literally been pretty much every dreams was my childhood . just a Labyrinth of anxiety and flop sweat set against a sexy topographical map of “aaaaaggghhh”, and then I wake up.

It’s Tuesday. That means I work in the evening. I woke up at 7:30 this morning without the assistance of Hades Yodeling to the cat-gods,and made Alvin French-toast with bread that I’d actually made, but sadly is too dry for my liking. Now, I’m sitting , trying in vain to stretch my ass-muscles out before going to the gym.

You’re welcome for the visual.

Come get your cat

There’s a special place in hell for people who move into an apartment complex and just decide(like assholes) to let their cats be “indoor/outdoor cats”. BRUH. of course your cat is going to (probably) like that, because it’s a tiny murder-ball. Our little familiars really aren’t that far removed from proud, wild things. So, when let outside, they form weird carnivore-musical cliques. 

Here’s 2 of the jerks. 

Tbh, they’re adorable.

My husband is defensive of our cat and actively roots for the destruction of our local tribe of switchblade-pawed assholes. It’s precious. Also precious, was his confusing “West end” with “West Side ” which I think we can all agree would have  been a very different ‎Leonard Bernstein experience .

I’m writing this on the couch while watching Kathleenlights tutorials and wearing dinosaur pants. It’s almost 11, and I shouldn’t be in dinosaur pants because there’s shit  want to do  out in this beautiful, green world before I leave for work at 4:00.

So, I’ma do them. 

You do you.


I know that if you’re not a Trump supporter, you’re pissed right now. I am fucking livid and also worried. Remember to breathe,  remember to fact – check, and live your life as an act of beautiful resistance. I love you.