Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: family drama, not so fun times, utter randomness
Don’t put as your facebook status….
“I warn you I’ve been listening to the Cure a lot lately, ‘Put a bullet in my head, pretty pretty please!!!”
Even if you think its funny and put quotes around it to ensure that people reading knows that its from a funny movie, The Wedding Singer.
Because not everybody knows all of Adam Sandler films and might believe that you have Postpartum Depression and get a sincere and sweet intervention via the telephone.
Just so we are all on the same page…..
And on that note…. have a happy day.
I know I’ve been a little m.i.a. lately. Mostly because of the feast holiday, Thanksgiving, but that’s not all.
My husband is finally feeling better (thank the Good Lord!), and I’m intermittently feeling better (more on that to come) and we have been busy getting ready for Christmas! I’ve enjoyed the quality time with my husband, friends and family.
On that note, I had a really awesome post that I was going to write…..
HOWEVER, I believe that I have been “dooced” and am officially freaking out.
So MOM, if your reading this……
You and I have REALLY BIG PROBLEMS. If you come here looking for dirt, STAY AWAY. And if you come here thinking that you know me, your delusional. You DON’T KNOW ME. And if you think that spying on me via internet is rational; I say to you, HOW IMMATURE.
I’m not a teenager, and this isn’t my diary. But it might as well be.
This is my space, my place and I’ll be damned if you use it against me.
By the way….
I NEVER said/wrote that you were a “monster”. I NEVER said/wrote that you were “heartless”. In fact you can read all my archives if you wish. Go for it if your that paranoid.
For a woman who loathes it when others misquote her, or assume your thoughts and words, you would think that you wouldn’t jump so swiftly to do those very things with me.
To my lovely bloggie friends, lurkers, and new comers: Please wait for further instructions. I haven’t decided if I will just simply make this blog private (because I can’t bear to part with my name), or start a brand new one, like I’m in the witness internet protection program (W.I.P.P.)
I’m sorry that after a short break I come to all of you with nastiness and drama. I truly had a fantastic and upbeat post all ready, ironically that involved my mom. What a difference a day makes.
I hope you stay with me, because I’ve loved the connection we have all made.
I’m a fighter, and I’m not going down for the count. I’m here to play.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: family drama, the ex-files, world's greatest husband
So are you guys on pins and needles wondering if there was a good ole fashioned cat fight???
I hate to disappoint you.
Frankly things between Mr. Cat and I, CC and her new husband FF were *gulp* mostly fine and cordial.
We walked into the already up and going party, and I see Cindy’s face of sheer panic. “OH NO they’re here! Sh!t’s going down”, was her inner monologue I’ll bet. She immediately came over to us and quickly told us that the enemy was still here among us. Granted, we already knew this information because we saw Mr. Cat’s previous car parked in the drive way. Ahh, divorce. Losing half of your stuff is a lovely scenario isn’t it???
We head out towards the backyard where half of the congregation has gathered. Brian quickly approaches us with a very panic and drunk look in eyes also making an attempt of warning, considering the enemy was just a few short yards behind him.
Mr. Cat was able to make a brief eye contact with both CC and FF, which he was able to see for himself the thinly veiled snapshot of fear. Dammit, I miss everything. I was too busy making sure I wasn’t going to trip down the stairs.
After a weird and awkward side event in the garage where several guests bombarded us with “hey there!” and “where the f*ck have you been?, haven’t seen you in forever dude!”, we were going to go in.
Deep breath.
We walk right up to them and begin our what is bound to be an awkward situation.
CC is so at ease that it throws me off. FF seems a bit stiff but fine. Mr. Cat is a champ, and I gotta say I didn’t act so bad myself.
Mostly we chit chatted about family and recent family drama. CC and Brian’s mom recently passed away.
We spoke about 15-20 minutes before we head back inside to make the swap of dvd’s which held pictures.
Then it was all over.
HAHAHA.
You didn’t think I’d end it with that did you?!?!
I’d like to think that I’m mature and totally able to not talk smack about the ex wife. But really? What fun would that be???
So here are a few things that I noticed ……
- CC looks old. She’s only 37 but easily looked 42
- I can only assert that she had a jaw because she was talking. Otherwise, it was a mystery considering that her double chin was ginormous.
- FF was like skeleton with a huge head.
- He looked like a runt next to his adulterous new wife.
- FF looked OLD (granted this is compared to us, not in life in general). He easily could pass for someone in his mid 50’s. He is 47.
- He also had no sense of fashion. He wore probably the ugliest tennis shoes I’ve ever seen.
At the end of the conversation, just when I thought things were going well, CC whips out her Iphone to show off a picture of her newborn son.
UGH.
That was a kick to the stomach.
But you know what? I survived.
And I looked H.O.T.
Cause really that’s what’s important.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: family drama, the ex-files, world's greatest husband
There are times in everyone’s life where you want to look your best……er……NEED to look your best.
- a high school reunion
- your wedding day
- taking your driver’s licence picture
- running into your ex
- MEETING YOUR HUSBAND’S EX WIFE, HER NEW HUSBAND AND NEW BABY
Wanna guess which one I’ll be experiencing tonight???
Mr. Cat and I will be attending this awesome blogger’s birthday party. Oh did I mention that she is the wife of Mr. Cat’s ex brother in law? Apparently they voted and wanted to keep Mr. Cat and ditch my husband’s ex wife, CC.
Since there is that family connection, I guess it was going to happen sometime.
We confirmed our attendance weeks ago, and they just confirmed yesterday. CC specifically emailed Mr. Cat to tell him that they were coming and if he could please bring old pictures that she would like to have.
Fine.
But can we say a-w-k-w-a-r-d?!?!
We are all adults so I’m sure that there won’t be any drama. Dear lord I hope that there won’t be any drama! (But of course, if there is, you’ll be hearing each and every stinkin’ bit of it right here folks. Because really, this is prime blogging fodder.)
That’s not to say that my husband is necessarily looking forward to seeing the man that “stole” his ex wife away. Not that he regrets anything, but he surely doesn’t. I’d choke him if he did. No joke.
But man to man, Mr. Cat would love nothing more than to beat him into a bloody pulp. You know.
My issue is the possibility of seeing their brand new baby. UGH.
So what am I going to do about it?
Get my nails done, get my eye brows waxed and look in my closet for my most slimming outfit yet.
I’m going to revel in the fact that I’m not the one who has a post partum body.
Because I am super mature.
————UPDATE————-
I found out that CC is not bringing the baby. Thank goodness!
ANd somebody told me that for whatever reason, it is difficult to comment. So if you want to comment, and I know you do, please email me at kittyconcerto@gmail(dot)com
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: b!tch and moan, F*ck This Fridays, family drama
Welcome to my 3rd installment of F*ck This Friday!!!
Today we will be discussing my for sure doom and gloom holiday. Oh your thinking of Halloween! Well of course you are silly. Today is Halloween. Have fun with all the trick ‘o treaters in your life. I think cute little kids dressed up is one of the most adorable things on the planet.
But back to gloom and doom.
My in-laws.
Ugh.
I’m specifically talking about my BIL, Drummer Boy, and his wife, Violin Diva.
They are planning on surprising Mr. Cat’s parents and family for Christmas by flying back to my husband’s hometown where his sister, her family, and his parents still live.
Lovely right?
NO. Why? Because now I will be forced to be in a contained place with them for multiple DAYS, because we plan on visiting as well.
Before you get all “but that’s what Christmas is all about, spending time with your family”, you need to remember a few key points about Violin Diva.
She has the worst case of verbal diarrhea that I have ever had the misfortune of being exposed to. Remember this horrible remark? “Oh just wait until your a mom!”, spoken just a very short while after my miscarriage.
RUDE. Beyond rude.
And really people, this is by far not the only nasty thing that was spewed in my direction since the three years that I have known her.
But it’s not just her that makes me want to beat my own skull into the wall. Drummer boy has some severely poor manners. He burps so often, so loudly, so grotesquely that I can practically feel it on me when he is nearby. And no he doesn’t even have the decency to say “excuse me”. At least that would be something.
Not to mention that the two of them as a couple are some of the most self absorbed individuals that I have ever known.
DAYS people DAYS. Not the usual hours, to which I can suck it up and handle. A week with these people might make me b!tch slap someone.
I used to believe I was her.
Apparently not this year. I AM Mrs. Grinch at this very moment. And really I don’t care. I feel World War Christmas coming on.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: family drama, mom and pop, sick as a dog
I was in high school when I threw out my back for the first time.
My parents home is very close to my high school, however we lived up a fairly steep hill that I had to climb, with about forty pounds of textbooks slamming my hunchbacked spine.
I found myself unable to stand up straight one day, and frankly it freaked me out. Imagine being 16 years old and looking in the mirror and seeing yourself at 80. I told my parents in a panic that I couldn’t function properly. My mom instructed my man cold mental dad to drive and take me to the nearest clinic.
Thinking that everything was fine, my dad practically scoffed at me while I gingerly walked towards the doctor’s and couldn’t keep up with my daddy long legs (my childhood nickname for my skinny long limbed father). I was amazed at his insensitivity. Well I learned that he thought I was faking. Well, the doctor didn’t think I was faking and gave me a few muscle relaxers and a strict diet of rest and relaxation. Incidently, this is exactly the reason why I super puffy heart love my chiropractor. *swoon*
Fast forward a mere two weeks later; my mom and I were casually getting ready for our day when suddenly a LOUD yelp is heard from my parents bedroom.
“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH, Honeeeeeeey, I can’t move! My back my back!!!!”
My mother and I look at each other with that same familiarity of two people who have been in the trenches of battle for years and years. We knew what we were in for.
“Well what do you want me to do about it? It’s not like I can carry you”, my mom spews back at my father writhing on his bed.
“Pleeeeeeeeeeease, help me, oooooooooooowwwwwhhhhhh!!!!!!”
“Good lawd. Fine. I guess our only option is to call the ambulance”, she shouts as she storms out of their bedroom.
Mind you, I was still recuperating from my own thrown out old lady back, so I couldn’t possibly help, even if I wanted too, which of course I really didn’t.
Twenty minutes later my over dramatic and highly competitive dad was carried away like an invalid in an ambulance. Ridiculous!
Later that afternoon, my mom and I visited my severely drugged up dad and couldn’t help but rib him about his life mantra live better thru chemistry. My dad has a very long history of competing of illnesses. It’s in his dna. His mother was a bonafide hypochondriac. He went home that night to two women who completely and utterly called him out on faking this damn illness. Of course he was insulted. And of course we were right.
A week later, my in-very-good-health thirty nine year old dad came home from work with A DAMN CANE.
My mom and I just shook our heads in utter disbelief at his over the top gesture of MAN AILMENT (a kissing cousin to the widely know MAN COLD).
So as much as I shake my head at my dear sweet husband at his classic symptoms of man cold, I know that I will never have to deal with it as much as mother has had with my father, with one of the most extreme cases of man ailment this Kitty will ever see.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: family drama, the ex-files, utter randomness
I just found out that Mr. Cat’s ex-wife just had a little baby boy a few weeks ago.
Fine.
Oh, wait. Did I mention that Mr. Cat’s ex-wife, C.C., had this baby with her now husband, who just so happens to be the same man she had an affair with? Oh I didn’t? Yah.
It’s bad enough that C.C. married MY beloved first.
It’s bad enough that our real names rhyme. Which is how the nickname began in the first place. I couldn’t stand to hear her name because it was so similar to mine.
But now…..
Now, not only does she have a child so shortly after our little problem, but she named this child a name that I had picked out as a top contender for OUR CHILD, granted if it were a boy.
Seriously???
I mean… COME ON!!!!!!!!!!!
Aaaaahhh, one year olds are adorable and precious. They also have parties to celebrate all things baby.
I just went to my niece’s birthday party/baptism and relived the joys of my empty uterus. Yay.
Wanna guess how many times I got asked “when’s it going to be your turn?”, while pointing to my stomach?
Or really any mention of my impending need to procreate…… right now.
Although to be fair, I didn’t even notice or remember my recent pain, until people that don’t know the situation, stick their foot in their gaping mouths. It’s ok. I’m a big girl and I had my big girl panties on.
But the one thing that bothered me was hearing “oh you’ll understand when you become a mom” from my BIL’s wife, the mother of the birthday girl. This hurts simply because she knows. She heard what has happened in recent weeks.
But I also know that she can be ignorant and forgetful. So most likely she didn’t mean it. Yet, she’s said some seriously insensitive things before……
So what could I do? That’s right. I shoved more cake down my throat. Cake solves everything.
Dear Fuck Face,
Yah, I’m talking to you Douchebag. You might not remember me or my husband last night, but I most certainly remember you.
See my sweet husband and I were on a nice, “oh isn’t it a lovely day out” kind of bike ride. We thought that we were very safe when we decided to jump off our bikes for a moment next to the sidewalk, deciding that we would cross the street.
Obviously you had other plans, because your a complete A-S-S-H-O-L-E.
Speeding is bad enough. Speeding with a gigantic truck AT us is really fucking bad. Speeding so much that your tires squeal and your almost solely on your two right side wheels and narrowly missing us, is being a complete and total FUCKTARD.
We had to literally jump out of the way of your moving death machine.
But the thing that makes me want to ram your nose into the back of your skull would be the very second you passed us, and your acne face takes a puff of your cancer stick as if to say you don’t give a rat’s ass.
I waited on the sidewalk and I watched you and your buddies park your truck and the stupid truck following you. And we heard you laugh it up.
Well laugh it up asshole’s because one day I guarantee you that you will piss off the wrong person and that person will make your skinny ass, most-likely-on-meth-face, into something unrecognizable. If I was a huge, strong, and mean looking guy, I wouldn’t have hesitated to beat the shit out of you and your four friends. Don’t care. You deserve it.
I hope upon hope I see that. Or at least read about that in our local paper. Justice.
FUCK YOU.
ps. To the only girl in the second truck who was decent enough to look at my husband and I too see if we were ok—- Thank You. I realize that if you did anything more, consequences would happen to you as well. But, get the hell out of that situation. Find new friends, because those guys could get you killed.
Yesterday I had a run in with my hidden temper (ok maybe not so hidden, Mr. Cat does call me 5 feet of Fury–but that’s another post). It doesn’t come out much, I’m pretty sure because it doesn’t like the cheerful sun, but it decided to make a grand entrance with a water gun fight.
Here’s a bit of a back story. See this adorable face?
No not the fat ass sitting there drinking a delicious decaf homemade frappaccino (yuuuuuum) reading about the life of a p0rn star. I’m talking about that fur ball laying on my lap with a look that says “yo dude, what are you doing? you’re ruining the vibe we got going on here”.
Well don’t let that squishable face deceive you. Luke likes to do things like this…
What you see here is evidence of a feline insanity. Luke likes to EAT clothing. Not just chew it off, but EAT it like a f*%king crazy person. Or rather he is making me crazy with this demented activity. In the above picture you will note that he has chewed off parts of my hangin’ around shorts, nearly a 1/3 of Mr. Cat’s boxer shorts, and half of my bra closures. People, he ate the hooks!
Last year when Mr. Cat and I finally were able to go away and enjoy our two week honeymoon, I did the responsible thing and asked my best friend’s younger sister, who is in her early 20’s, to housesit, and of course we would pay her well. She acted like a completely capable person and said yes to the task.
When we returned I immediately noticed something was wrong. Luke, who is the house pig, had lost weight. A very noticeable amount of weight. In fact he had lost 2 lbs! On a 10 pound cat that is A LOT of weight. And he wasn’t eating or acting normal. Well after several visits to the very talented surgical vet, who also happens to be a friend, she finally figured out what we had suspected all along. He ingested something that wasn’t supposed to be eaten. (btw-it took her a long time only because she didn’t want us to have to pay for a lot of unneeded ventures if we didn’t have to, so we were trying other alternatives to figure out the problem. She really is a very good vet)
So this is what the next course of action entailed at $2000.00 later…
(apologies for the gruesome factor)
Needless to say I was furious with our house sitter because we had explicitly warned her about his strange habits and this was the main reason we needed somebody at the house to watch him. Otherwise we could have just had someone in the neighborhood come by and feed them no problem. Clearly she wasn’t paying attention. But she was doing something because our electric bill was $100 extra than normal. Livid. I was still am livid.
Because of this, we make it a habit to keep all extra clothes hidden in closets or the laundry room so that the fiend doesn’t have access. We also make sure to keep any shoes with shoe strings hidden in the laundry room for the same reason. We won’t encourage his drug habit. And we do our best, but sometimes our best still isn’t good enough.
So back to yesterday’s ugly adventure.
I was folding some laundry and had used the couch as the place to dwell my neatly folded clothes. I had draped two hoodies over the top of the couch. No problem……..er, right?
I look over and hear NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM….. from the white devil himself and I lost it.
Luke ran for his life and I grabbed my gun squirt gun ready for the showdown. I too ran like hell, and after a couple of roundabouts up and down the house, I finally captured my prey in an upstairs bedroom. I slam the damn door. Luke’s eyes go wide with fear and panic. He knows the squirt gun. He hates the squirt gun.
The next three minutes is a part of my history I’d like to forget. I basically kept shooting him for a solid three minutes. I was unable to stop. He kept trying to run; I kept shooting.
He was pretty soaked when I finally got out of my anger cloak and left the scene of the crime.
Then I immediately felt bad. I mean, he deserved to be punished, but maybe he didn’t deserve to have the one man gun slinger on his ass.
Not much later, and for the rest of the night, I did make sure to try and cuddle with poor traumatized Luke. I didn’t want to kill his funny, cute little spirit. Don’t worry we are still friends.
However, I lost it because we try so damn hard to protect him from his dumbass self, and he still can’t stop. It drives me crazy!!! It’s like dealing with a crack addict. Shut up, I’m serious.
But I couldn’t help but feel incredibly bad and have thoughts such as “Look at my awful temper. What kind of horrible mom will I be? Will I lose it with them too? Will they wind up hating me as much as I dislike my own family, mostly for their lack of self control with their own anger? Is this a curse???” running thru my head.
I need to go check myself into anger management right now.
Kitty Concerto 