Miah does Housesitting, Part II

Some of you may have already read about being looked at like I am an idiot by a dog over the weekend. As splendorous as that was, nothing exceeds Skinny Cat pooping on the bed where I had lain my head.

For those of you who have been following this, you know that many moons ago, my humble abode served as a domicile for a tranvestite male kitten named Lady Godiva. You also know that our arrangement did not work very well; within 48 hours of finding the litter box, LG (as he as affectionately called) was transferred to another home to live out the rest of his 8 lives.

When my friend asked me to housesit her menagerie, I figured I could handle a cat for a night. No biggie.

2 cats: Oscar and the one I call Skinny Cat (imagine Phoebe from Friends "Smelly Cat", but change the concept to Skinny Cat and you get the idea). Oscar was cool--he scratched the shit out of me, but hey I guess that was my fault. Who am I to try to pet a housecat? Skinny Cat, however, was, a bit different. Skinny Cat looked like she had not eaten in months. As my friend LOVES her animals, I was sure Skinny Cat was being fed. Her frail frame made a little more sense when I was informed that Skinny Cat is 16 people years old--equivalent to about 88 cat years. When you think about it, how many plump 88-year-olds do you know? So I figured it was a symptom of a life well lived.

Skinny Cat pretty much left me alone--until I found a jello-cup and she decided she wanted some. Now, just like I don't know the dietary restrictions of an 88-year-old person and would not feed them off of my plate, I do not know the dietary resrictions of an 88-year-old cat and would not feed her the remnants of my jello-cup. Just my luck, Skinny Cat is allergic to gelatin and has a severe allergic jello attack which leaves her in a coma, unconscious and fighting for her life. Needless to say, I did not give Skinny Cat the jello.

About 3 am I fell asleep in the guest room, on top of the covers because I was cold. About 5 am I was stirred from my slumber by the distinct padding of cat paws on my legs. Opening one eye in a very unfamiliar environment, I saw Skinny Cat walking on the bed. I ignored her--I mean, who pushes an 88 year old off the bed?

I dozed back off. About 20 minutes later, I was stirred again from my slumber by the very distinct smell of poop. Popping both eyes open in the now more familiar environment, I surveyed my dark surroundings. I did not see any poop at first, which made me hesitant to put my tootsies on the floor; who wants to step in poop? I groped around for a light, and as soon as the room was luminated, I saw a (albeit small) lump of squishy brown just to the left of where I was sleeping.

Pause. My friends now know what happened next. I let out a string of curse words that would make any sailor, preacher, or mother weep. (Thanks dad for teaching me all the good words)

Once over the initial shock, I stripped the bed and tossed the bedding in the washing machine. The only thing waking up next to wet poop is coming home to dry poop.

I figured Skinny Cat was still angry about the jello incident and was letting me know how she really felt.

Moral: Always give the cat jello.

*M*

PS--On a more serious note, Skinny Cat is seriously ill with some sort of thyroid problem. :( She had never exhibited such behavior before and my friend is very worried about her pet. Please send a prayer up to God for Skinny Cat.

Miah does Housesitting

The only thing worse than being looked at like you're an idiot by an adult, is being looked at like you're an idiot by a child. The only thing worse than being looked at like you're an idiot by a child, is being looked at like you're an idiot by a dog.

This past weekend a friend of mine asked me to housesit/dogsit/catsit while she and her husband were out of town. Being a dutiful friend, I obliged. My friend has 2 beautiful dogs and 2 sweet cats. Part of my responsibilities was to walk the big, friendly dog-giants, once in the evening and once in the morning, for their daily constitutional. The dogs walk the same route twice a day, so they know it very well. As we were on our evening walk, I took an alternate route; the weather was nice and I wanted to see some scenery. When we arrived at the point where the dogs were used to turning right, I turned left. They stopped and sat down. They began to pull me in the right direction. Being as stubborn as I am, I continued to walk my way. The dogs eventually came along (I mean, I did have the leash) but I swear to you, one of them looked at me like I was a complete idiot. She got a look of sheer exasperation and I am positive I heard her sigh, as if to say "fine. you're wrong, but we'll do it your way this time."

I recognized the look, as several eighth graders give it to me several times a day. But now a dog?

*M*

Check -UP!

Last night I went out with a teacher gay boyfriend of mine (this becomes relevant somewhere a little later). He's my GBF in Vegas and I absolutely love him to death. We always have tons of fun together and last night, after we ate dinner, he invited me to an awards show his students were participating in. (as a side note, his kids do not KNOW he's gay. I"m sure most speculate, but they don't know.)

We got to the banquet and show and walked in together. First, all the kids in the choir turned and stared at me--some looking with utter disbelief, some looking with sheer confusion, most looking with intense curiosity. After we walked to the back, it hit me, "Oh they think we're a couple." This made me laugh (internally, of course) because my friend is gay. So as we stood at the back, he whispers in my ear "Right now they're all confused and wondering who you are. And half of them are saying 'But I thought he was GAY!!!' to their friends. Let's keep them confused." and smiled with a devilish half-grin. You all know nothing makes me happier than confusing a group of kids so I was all game.

About 5 minutes into the show, he whispers to me again: "I think one of my students has a crush on me. What should I do?" and points her out to me. I dismissed it, knowing that kids get crushed on teachers all the time. Fast forward to the end of the show. I was still standing next to him and a bunch of his kids were crowding around to talk to him. I was kind of like the proverbial third wheel. Little crush girl ignores the crowd of building students and boldly walks right up to me. She sticks her hand out and introduces herself "Hi, my name is Carmen. And you are?" Trying not to laugh, I introduce myself and congratulate their team. She then proceeds to look me up and down, grim me and say "I'm one of his students." (Emphasis on the word I'm, please) turn her back to me, push her way to the front, give him a hug (the only one to do so) and say "Mr. Little, have you done something different with your hair?" He politely pushes her away and tells her to find her mother.

Let us reflect on this: 15-year-old Carmen straight checks me for being with her teacher at a public event, grims me, hugs him, inquires about his new grooming habits, and, he's gay.

As we walked away, my friend says "She sure told you." and we cracked up all the way to the car.

Ahhh Carmen...you have so much to learn.

Save a Horse...Ride a Cowboy

Last night I went Country Line Dancing at Stoneys. I can see the collective eyebrow raise of all of you (who know me) reading this. Anyway, it was actually a lot of fun. Maybe I really am a redneck woman at heart? You all know my motto, "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy"

At the club, I contemplated (but not for very long) riding the mechanical bull. Besides the fact that it looked demented, angry, and, well, dirty (God knows how many sweaty cowboy butts had been on that thing) after I saw the first 3-4 people get tossed onto the accompanying demented, angry and, well, dirty black mat, I decided against bull riding. Plus when the girls got on, the slowed the speed down signifigantly and made the bull thing vibrate so it looked like soft core porn. You'd understand better if you saw it. There is something to be said, however, for a grown man in a cowboy hat riding that bull...somewhat sexy (the man, not the bull).

The only thing of real interest and comedy--aside from me trying to learn how to two-step, and then seven-step--were mini-me's one and two, otherwise known as Salt-N-Pepa or Ebony and Ivory. Grown men should NOT under ANY circumstances, (Especially when they are both under 5'6) show up at any club wearing the exact same matching outfit and then commence to showing off their dance routines that they made at home, an hour before.

YeeHaw!
*M*

Earth Day

As a citizen of this great planet we all happen to live on, I feel the need to say some things about Earth Day--aka another holiday created for the purpose of selling cards, giving gifts, and writing blogs.

it is clear to me that we are killing the Earth. You may be wondering how, as we are very small and the earth is very large. Even with that, we are still managing to destroy plants, flowers, trees, water, wind and even that necessary extra coating called the ozone layer around the earth that ensures that we do not burn into little crisps every time we step outside. Have you seen pictures of the polar bears lately? They're sad. Sad and yellow. Sad and yellow and hot. Have you seen the icebergs? They're melting. Melting and warming. Melting and warming and drowning the sad, yellow, hot polar bears.

So, here are some things I implore you to do:

1. Recycle paper. When you get done with your falsified documents, counterfeit money and porn magazines, please shred them and then recycle them. Stop hiding 10 years of Hustler under the bed, when that is good paper that can be recycled. The pulp from those papers can be used to make new, more improved falsified documents, counterfeits and porn.

2. Pirate. Buying CD's only increases the CFC we put into the atmosphere. The more we buy, the more we have to make plastic CDs. Borrow CD's from friends and burn those. Better yet, find a website which will allow you to download (but not share :) ) music and video.

3. Recycle water. You know the rule: If its yellow, just be mellow. If it's brown, flush it down!

4. Walk. Stop driving around the corner to the liquor store! Walk dammit! Plus, gas is $4 a gallon.

5. *This is to all my friends reaching their quarter life crises and drinking bottles of wine alone* STOP throwing the empty bottles away! I have a nice one holding tulips. They make lovely vases.

6. Recycle food. Remember that rice you made a few days ago? Rice pudding, rice muffins, rice cereal and rice wine can all be made.

7. Make a compost heap. Just do it in your neighbor's yard so yours does not smell all garbagy and stuff...

8. Purchase a reuseable flask so you can bring your own alcohol to the club. (LOL, I KNOW some of you do this already...)

9. Stop spending so much time at the hair dresser. Each time they plug in that blow dryer, flatiron and pressing comb, how many harmful fumes are being released into the atmosphere? Take a page from the book of crazy in Texas and start sporting a 1850 Laura Ingalls Wilder wave. That FLDS hair never seems to move.

10.Plant a tree! Grow your own fruit, vegetables and "herbs". Stop paying so much when--with a dark closet and a black light--you can, evidently, grown your own in the comfort of your own closet.

*M*

PS--Though it may not seem like it, based on the content of this post, I really am concerned about the state of the earth. I do recycle and I walk to places less than 2 miles from my house. Unless you want you children's children to look like Shrek 5 or have one large cyclop like eye in the middle of their foreheads 50 years from now, please do your part--no matter how small.

Every little bit matters.

Here are some facts (well, as factual as you can get from the internet...
1.Garbage in a landfill stays there for about 30 years.
2. I 1995 over 200 of the world's landfills were full.
3. Each person throws away approximately four lbs of garbage each day.
4. Approximately 5 million tons of oil produced in the world each year ends up in the ocean.
For every 2000 lbs of paper recycled, we save 7,000 gallons of water from chemicals.
5. 84% of all household waste can be recycled.

Here are some real things you can do:
1. Replace a regular incandescent light bulb with a compact flourescent light bulb. This switch will save about 300 lbs of carbon dioxide a year. I've switched and it's not that bad. A little dark at first, but not bad.
2. Do not leave household apliances on standby.
3. Cover your pots when cooking.
4. Do not use the washing maching and dish washer when they are half full.
5. Use a clothesline instead of a dryer whenever possible.

and who can forget...
6. Plant a tree.

There's Something in your Hair

Today, as my kids were actively engaged in silent reading, I did what all the teacher books tell you to do: model good behavior by engaging in whatever activity the children are engaged in. I like to read, so I pulled up a chair and began reading right with my students. After about 10 minutes, I saw one of my girls staring almost awkardly at my hair, which can currently be best described as a mass of black wave like curls, since I no longer have a relaxer. After getting tired of being stared at, I asked her as politely as I could muster what she was looking at. She apprehensively replied "there's something in your hair Ms. Daughtery." Well, I had washed the black mass last night so I figured it was a feather from my pillow or perhaps a piece of stray lint from my suit jacket. I replied "well, please get it."

Now, before I go any further, let me explain that I am one of 3 black teachers in my building and I have less than 10 black students. I am the only black female in the building (that I am aware of ) who has natural hair and it gets a varied amount of responses, from sheer amazement to inquiry to confusion. I'm kind of used to it now, and my kids have seen my hair from every texture ranging from the "Easy, Breezy Covergirl straight out of the chair and hot comb wrap" to the "Cleopatra Jones yeah, I washed it and blow dried it out so it is a big as I can make it." No matter what, it is always a source of conversation, amusement and amazement. Cultural tolerance...

Back to the story. She goes to grab, what I think is a feather or a piece of lint, or hell, knowing me a paperclip I stuck in there so I wouldn't lose it or a pen so a kid wouldn't steal it, and tentatively like pats my head. Irritated, I say to her, "just get it." By now all of my class is watching. Another kid next to her says "yeah, there is something. I think it's a string." Now I'm curious and I grab up to where she is pointing and consistently miss the spot. I finally say "Just yank it." So she does.

She grabs and yanks.

She hands it to me.

A grey hair.

*M*

Is Soliciting Illegal in NV?

So, dear readers, I have a serious question for you. Most of you are my friends, so I feel like I can ask this freely. And, since most of my friends are now lawyers, I really do want your honest feedback.

In this great state of Nevada, if I happen to give a man, say, I dunno $50 or so once a week, to make my legs shake and tremble and me call out loudly to Jesus and break into a hot--borderline nasty--sweat is that illegal?

My God, I hope not because I officially have a crush on my personal trainer at the Las Vegas Athletic Club. Seeing as how my training sessions are the most intriguing and stimulating dates I've had in a while, I'm honestly contemplating upping my one free session a month to two paid sessions a month. What makes this even more interesting is that my trainer--whom I will henceforth and forevermore refer to as sexy booty young tenderoni #1--graduated high school in 2002. That makes him several years my junior which means that while I was enjoying the last of my collegiate years and experimenting with vodka bottled in plastic bottles (gotta love Popov); wine in high-class cardbord boxes (Viva la Franzia); tequila with a red plastic cap for a top (ahhh...El Toro); and several other noteworthy concoctions brewed in bathtubs, black garbage bins, and kitchen sinks, he was most likely experimenting with Clearisil and trying to find a way to break curfew. This somewhat disturbs me. But, sadly, not enough for me not to seriouly think about trying to bounce a quarter off of his abs.

*M*

Fish aren't fat

Fish, unlike cows, dogs, pigs and people do not ever seem to get fat. I have eaten a lot of fish in my life, from tuna to salmon, and swordfish to blue marlin and all of the fish that I've eaten have all been lean, mean, swimming machines. So, using the logic that fish aren't fat, today I started swimming again. It quickly became painfully obvious to me why fish, indeed, are not fat.

I like to imagine myself like a graceful butterfly, gliding through the air (or, in this case, water) deftly parting the seas and almost floating from destination to destination. Sometimes, in my mind I'm like a water ballerina, buoyantly dancing a classical dance. However, indeed, as I found myself choking and spitting out gallons of water after I mistakenly confused the "breathe in through your mouth and out through your nose rule" that swimmers really should live by if they do not wish to drown, I realized that I do not look like a graceful butterfly or a water ballerina. Instead, I look more like an angry octopus, flailing limbs through the water hoping to grab whatever comes its way.

But back to fish not being fat. After my third lap in the pool and gasping for air and feeling the heavy heavy weight of my legs dragging me toward the bottom of the pool I thought to myself "wow...fish have to do this all day, every day without rest. No wonder they arent' fat."

Anywho, I am not a fish.

*M*

Just a Friendly Reminder...I live in NV, NOT MI

This morning, at exactly 5:25 am, I was jolted awake from a very peaceful and restful slumber by the not-quite-melodic sounds spewing forth from my cellular device. After being startled out of a very good dream which involved me, a gentleman who goes by James Bond, a pair of dark sunglasses and a pair of pink furry handcuffs, I warily opened one very blurry eye and looked toward the direction of the sound. Red numbers, beginning with "313" flashed angrily on the screen and demanded my attention. Detroit.

Let me offer a kind reminder: 8:25 Detroit time is 5:25 Vegas time. I truly am still asleep, typically in REM stage 3, at 5:25 am. Though I always appreciate phone calls from friends and family, I would appreciate them more after, let's say 7:00 am.

Off to take a nap...
*M*

Skateboarding?

Today one of my kiddies taught (ok, not really) me how to skateboard. Random child #1, who is truly a master skateboarder, incredibly talented on the board, has done NO work in English this year. I think his last two report card averages were 34 &29%, respectively. He also does no work in math, science, computers, or history. The last project I assigned gave him the leeway to write about skateboarding. He did, and came to school with his skateboard so he could do a demonstration.

After we went outside and I watched him to a ollies, hard flips, back flips and a large flip down a flight of stairs, my kids began requesting that I learn some basic moves. The requests turned into chants. I obliged, mainly because I do not mind looking like a complete fool in front of my kids and, like them, I too did not really want to go back inside.

Now I knew I was too much of a novice to do a back flip down a flight of stairs, however I thought I should be able to at least glide on the sidewalk for a few yards.

Putting one foot tentatively on the board, I knew I was in a mistake. Then, I heard a kid whisper "hey, tape this. I can't wait to see Ms. Daughtery bust her ass" and I knew I was headed for disaster. I put the second foot tentatively on the board.


Then, I realized I was stuck. Evidently, skateboards do not move on their own, even when the person standing on them shouts "Skateboard! Go!" as I did. Too scared to move, I just stood on the board, dumbfounded. At least the kid doesn't have a video to put on youtube of me "busting my ass."

*M*

PS--For all my bogus friends who were looking forward to reading about me busting my ass, I want you to do this:
Hold your right hand in front of you. Squeeze your fingers and thumb together, so that your hand forms a blade, and not a rock. Fold down your pinky finger and thumb, leaving only your ring, middle and pointer finger. Now: Read between the lines.

PPS--On the way back, one of my male "darlings" let out a loud, obnoxious belch. Thoroughly disgusted, I chastised him. His response: Why fart and waste it, when you can belch and taste it?

Ahhh...teaching