I've been meaning to post on the eating habits, both human and feline, of the residents of Westcatt. So, bon appetite.
To begin, the human eating habits. Laurel and I have settled into a fairly smooth domestic routine, where I cook on Wednesdays and she cooks on Thursdays. Thus far, this has turned out to be a delicious arrangement. However, we quickly realized that our dietary differences required some special menu planning. For, you see, Laurel is a vegetarian and I am a meatatarian. Actually, I'm more of a cheeseatarian. So, we decided that we should write our own cookbook, for others in our situation. We'll call it "Cooking for Two - When your roommate is a vegetarian and all you eat is bacon and cheese." Actually, I'm guessing that this would be a best-seller, since it's an accurate reflection of the eating habits of most American households.
A look in our fridge will also tell you, usually, what day of the week it is, who is in residence, what point at the semester we're at, etc. For example - if the bottom shelf is full, that means that it's a Tuesday night and I've just gone grocery shopping. If there is a gallon of milk present, Lizz is home. If there are two or three gallons, Jared is visiting. If there is nothing but hot pockets, chocolate ice cream and caffeinated drinks, it's probably the last two weeks of the semester. Empty pizza boxes scattered around the apartment may also be a good indicator of this.
And now, the feline eating habits. Po and Cleo are fed two or three scoops of very expensive dry food everyday. Occasionally, they also get a can of wet food, but Po turns up his nose at this simple fare, preferring such delicacies as rocks, leaves, dust bunnies, and my hair ties. Po, also the more active hunter, will occasionally forage around the house for food. Thus far, he has stalked and killed the following delicious and nutritious prey: 5 black hair ties, 2 gray hair ties, a foam hair curler, an unmeasured amount of styrofoam, a book, a picture, 3 packages of Easy Mac, something yellow, my baby cactus, and the tails off of all his mice.
Po, in his infinite craftiness, has also perfected several foolproof methods for getting Laurel and I to give him treats. These include: hiding under my bed, running outside, running into the basement, and being adorable. He has also identified me as the source of tunafish, clams casino, and indeed, almost all the meat in the house, and takes advantage of that whenever I am in the kitchen. However, his greatest triumph lies in securing his favorite food: cheese. He does this by faking injuries and getting Laurel to give him pity cheese. Or by licking it off the stove. Yummy :)
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Saturday Evening Exploits
This evening Jilly and I watched Whip It! and decided it's time for us to start our own reckless sports team. Jilly suggested quiddich, but I'm all for something much more daring and dangerous, perhaps running alone through Syracuse at night carrying a bag with a giant money symbol on it? Whoever can outrun the muggers wins... and gets to keep the money. I know for a fact the streets of Syracuse are dangerous, we drove up behind a car with the license plate "HAMBRGLR" yesterday... so this is where that rascal has been hiding, I haven't seen him for ages...
Oh, and be careful on E Fayette Street, according to signage on that street it is prone to random teeter-totter obstructions. I know, I know, it's a warning that there may be playing children in the area, but wouldn't a boy chasing a ball be much more appropriate for the sign? Not unless someone invites the fat kid to play on the teeter-totter and it becomes a child catapult. Now THAT would make for an interesting driving experience through Syracuse...
Oh, and be careful on E Fayette Street, according to signage on that street it is prone to random teeter-totter obstructions. I know, I know, it's a warning that there may be playing children in the area, but wouldn't a boy chasing a ball be much more appropriate for the sign? Not unless someone invites the fat kid to play on the teeter-totter and it becomes a child catapult. Now THAT would make for an interesting driving experience through Syracuse...
Monday, September 28, 2009
The City of Syracuse is Out to Get Me.
It's official, the city of Syracuse is out to get me.
I will be assembling a panel of top minds to counteract the dark forces of Syracuse. First on our agenda - find the supreme leader of the minions of the City of Syracuse. I think we really must be facing a large, coordinated effort led by a mastermind of the highest order for the assaults on my person (and my car) to be so numerous. How do I know they are dark forces? The cop who pulled me over spoke with a Eastern European accent (take that Eastern Europe!). ---wait, wait, wait, let me back up...
Let me tell you of the recent series of incidents that have happened to me in Syracuse. ----I should preface this by saying I hit the streets in a sporty PT Cruiser. The very first time I drove this car after buying it I passed the same exact car, but driven by an old man in a plaid driving cap. I thought to myself, yes, the PT Cruiser, the car that old men and Laurel drive. Also, where can I get a plaid driving cap?
And now back to my series of unfortunate events---- First of all, I was driving down Genessee street when a fire truck without its lights on barreled oncoming traffic (aka ME). I managed to stomp on the breaks and swerve without hitting it though, take that 007. Meanwhile, the fireman sitting in the passenger seat of the fire truck seemed to be laughing wildly with glee at their diabolical plot.
Secondly, as Jilly and I were returning from an emergency ice cream run, I pulled up to a four way stop just before a cop pulled up to the stop sign on my left. Long story short, the cop car almost hit me (because he didn't see me going through the intersection) and then pulled me over to save face. The bald Russian spy, I mean "police officer," that emerged from the cop car proceeded to tell me that I'm a bad person for not stopping at stop signs (um, for the record, I did stop).
Side note: Today in Skaneatles, one of the Dark Empire's satellite cities, I was nearly mowed down by a purple van as I was crossing the street. The assassins of Syracuse are everywhere! Luckily, my stealth moves (a move characterized by just kind of standing there in the street), almost certain death was avoided. AND This evening I pulled up to a stop light, then realized there were three separate cop cars all around me, lying in wait for my next bad move...
Beware the minions of Syracuse.
I will be assembling a panel of top minds to counteract the dark forces of Syracuse. First on our agenda - find the supreme leader of the minions of the City of Syracuse. I think we really must be facing a large, coordinated effort led by a mastermind of the highest order for the assaults on my person (and my car) to be so numerous. How do I know they are dark forces? The cop who pulled me over spoke with a Eastern European accent (take that Eastern Europe!). ---wait, wait, wait, let me back up...
Let me tell you of the recent series of incidents that have happened to me in Syracuse. ----I should preface this by saying I hit the streets in a sporty PT Cruiser. The very first time I drove this car after buying it I passed the same exact car, but driven by an old man in a plaid driving cap. I thought to myself, yes, the PT Cruiser, the car that old men and Laurel drive. Also, where can I get a plaid driving cap?
And now back to my series of unfortunate events---- First of all, I was driving down Genessee street when a fire truck without its lights on barreled oncoming traffic (aka ME). I managed to stomp on the breaks and swerve without hitting it though, take that 007. Meanwhile, the fireman sitting in the passenger seat of the fire truck seemed to be laughing wildly with glee at their diabolical plot.
Secondly, as Jilly and I were returning from an emergency ice cream run, I pulled up to a four way stop just before a cop pulled up to the stop sign on my left. Long story short, the cop car almost hit me (because he didn't see me going through the intersection) and then pulled me over to save face. The bald Russian spy, I mean "police officer," that emerged from the cop car proceeded to tell me that I'm a bad person for not stopping at stop signs (um, for the record, I did stop).
Side note: Today in Skaneatles, one of the Dark Empire's satellite cities, I was nearly mowed down by a purple van as I was crossing the street. The assassins of Syracuse are everywhere! Luckily, my stealth moves (a move characterized by just kind of standing there in the street), almost certain death was avoided. AND This evening I pulled up to a stop light, then realized there were three separate cop cars all around me, lying in wait for my next bad move...
Beware the minions of Syracuse.
A Post-Colonial Read of the Cats
Greetings.
I decided it was time to do a postcolonial read of the activities of Po and Cleo.
These two dominant world powers have completely imperialized and colonized our Westcott apartment, enabling the Westcatt Empire to develop quickly and with little impediment from the indigenous tenants.
Cleopatra, the less agressive imperializer, retains a firm hold on the mother country of her domain - Laurel's room. Laurel's office, as well as my own, were conquered jointly, and remain shared territories. Po controls the highlands, such as the top of the bookshelves, while Cleo has almost exclusive rights to the fertile lowlands, which are under the desks. The Kitchen and Living Room are run with similar arrangements, although the Green Couch remains the source of occasional disputes.
Although Cleo makes occasional forays into the bathrooms and my bedroom, those territories have officially been conquered and colonized by Po. In order to maintain control over the native residents, Po frequently maps my colonial body by watching me in the shower. However, it is my room which has become the shining jewel in the Westcatt empire.
My bedroom was originally conquered so that Po could access its most valuable and proliferous export - high ties. Although he claims that the purpose of colonization was to cuddle the inhabitant, most postcolonial scholars agree that the economic benefits of plentiful hair ties and unsupervised yarn were what actually drew the colonial power. Po's colonization efforts were originally blocked by a closed door. After arduous efforts and much exploitation of native labor, a canal was dug to surmount the difficulty. Now, Po has almost unlimited access to his colonized territory.
All attempts to invade Lizz's room have met with staunch native resistance. Although Po and Cleo continue to plot, neither has made any noteworthy advances. Both Po and Cleo have also explored outside territories, such as Upper Porch, Lower Porch, and the Driveway and Backyard. While Cleo regards these areas with suspicion, and shows no signs of continued commerce with them, Po has eagerly marked them for future colonial projects - and escapes to them whenever possible to continue mapping.
I decided it was time to do a postcolonial read of the activities of Po and Cleo.
These two dominant world powers have completely imperialized and colonized our Westcott apartment, enabling the Westcatt Empire to develop quickly and with little impediment from the indigenous tenants.
Cleopatra, the less agressive imperializer, retains a firm hold on the mother country of her domain - Laurel's room. Laurel's office, as well as my own, were conquered jointly, and remain shared territories. Po controls the highlands, such as the top of the bookshelves, while Cleo has almost exclusive rights to the fertile lowlands, which are under the desks. The Kitchen and Living Room are run with similar arrangements, although the Green Couch remains the source of occasional disputes.
Although Cleo makes occasional forays into the bathrooms and my bedroom, those territories have officially been conquered and colonized by Po. In order to maintain control over the native residents, Po frequently maps my colonial body by watching me in the shower. However, it is my room which has become the shining jewel in the Westcatt empire.
My bedroom was originally conquered so that Po could access its most valuable and proliferous export - high ties. Although he claims that the purpose of colonization was to cuddle the inhabitant, most postcolonial scholars agree that the economic benefits of plentiful hair ties and unsupervised yarn were what actually drew the colonial power. Po's colonization efforts were originally blocked by a closed door. After arduous efforts and much exploitation of native labor, a canal was dug to surmount the difficulty. Now, Po has almost unlimited access to his colonized territory.
All attempts to invade Lizz's room have met with staunch native resistance. Although Po and Cleo continue to plot, neither has made any noteworthy advances. Both Po and Cleo have also explored outside territories, such as Upper Porch, Lower Porch, and the Driveway and Backyard. While Cleo regards these areas with suspicion, and shows no signs of continued commerce with them, Po has eagerly marked them for future colonial projects - and escapes to them whenever possible to continue mapping.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Introductions
First, we must introduce ourselves.
This is Potemkin, Po for short.
He was born in a tiny hole under a porch last August. His mother is Edna Ferber... she spent a long time under the bed because of a traumatic vacuum incident. We hear she's been doing much better though.
This is Cleopatra, no relation.
Cleo's history is unknown, but that's the way she likes it. A lady must have her mysteries.
Po is playful.
Cleo sleeps.
This is our neighbor "Stan" wandering around our backyard for some reason.
We'll probably mention him a lot.
This is Potemkin, Po for short.
He was born in a tiny hole under a porch last August. His mother is Edna Ferber... she spent a long time under the bed because of a traumatic vacuum incident. We hear she's been doing much better though.
This is Cleopatra, no relation.
Cleo's history is unknown, but that's the way she likes it. A lady must have her mysteries.
Po is playful.
Cleo sleeps.
This is our neighbor "Stan" wandering around our backyard for some reason.
We'll probably mention him a lot.
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