He looks innocent enough and he’s a very loving cat and I’ve never met one person who doesn’t immediately fall in love with this cat. He LOVES people. And if you pet him and let him sit on your lap? You’ll be his friend forever.

I, on the other hand, am not his favorite. Yes, I feed him and pet him and give him treats, but I hate having him on my lap. Because he doesn’t sit on your lap, he has to lay on your whole person. And well, it’s annoying.

So he retaliates. In cat-like fashion. He pukes on my pillow or in my shoe. Or most recently, on my library book. He scratches the shit out of things. He drags is poopy ass on the carpet. He gives me the evil eye.

And now? Now he’s trying to kill me.

In the morning right before I’m getting ready to leave, I sit on the edge of the bed and put my commuting shoes on. Usually it’s my tennis shoes, since we haven’t had much of a winter and I wore my new snow boots twice.

It’s become part of our routine where I tie the shoes and fling the laces and he chases them and then attacks my shoes.

Usually I’m too quick on the draw and tie them before he can really play. But apparently one day, I wasn’t paying enough attention and he thought he’d show me who was boss.

After our little game, I got my stuff and got set to leave the house. As far as I knew, since I had just put them on, my shoes were tied tight. They were set to make my daily commute to the office.

So I put on my coat, locked the front door and headed down the stairs in the building to the outside. As I was jogging down the stairs, since I was late for the bus as per usual, I tripped and almost tumbled down the whole flight. Thank you, railing, for allowing me to catch myself and not land on my face.

(I know I’m clumsy, but I can usually make it down two flights of stairs in the morning without any mishaps.)

I looked down at my shoe – UNTIED! The damn cat put his claw into the lace and loosened it just enough so that I would trip down the stairs. This is no way to treat the human that feeds you!

It’s a good thing he’s cute.

Back before I had my tooth pulled back in November, a molar on the other side of my mouth chipped. I didn’t even cry. I just looked at it, realized I was going to have another crown and made a note to quadruple the amount of money I put in my flexible spending account in 2012.

The giant gaping hole in my mouth is healing well. It takes up to six months before we can do the next steps, which is to take molds for the implant. In the meantime, I chew on only one side of my mouth and continue to go out in public every day with a gaping space in my mouth. I’m Cletus, the slack jawed yokel.

So let’s fast forward to last week at my regular check-up at the dentist. She tells me what I know, that I need a crown and all that. So I make the appointment for this evening. This is old hat for me. A shot of novacaine and some drilling? NOTHING! Not when you’ve previously had someone HAMMERING YOUR JAW BONE.

Then as I’m paying and getting ready to head home, they remind me that I shouldn’t eat anything on that side of my mouth until I get the permanent crown on. Which is in two weeks.

screeeeeeeecccchhhhh

Back up. What? The side of my mouth I’ve been chewing on exclusively since November is now off limits? And the side of my mouth that I CAN chew on is missing one of the important molar teeth? So you’re saying I basically should consist on smoothies for two weeks? Well, OK. What a weight loss plan!

Also a good weight loss plan? Going to the dentist and getting half your face numb! Just try and eat or drink anything!

Sadly there is no video. Only because I was too busy cleaning up Kool-Aid and soup from my face and floor.

*I would like to point out that I currently LOVE, LOVE, LOVE my dentist. I have no complaints at all. The fact that I do not get freaked out and cry about having to have work done is a testament to how much I love her and trust her.

I don’t have an inside voice. I have a voice. And it’s loud and you can hear it inside or outside.

I never really got in trouble for it growing up, that I can remember. I’m usually told to “use my inside voice” and then I try. I have finally learned, at 34 years of age, that I need to whisper. My inside voice is what I imagine whispering to be. I am unable to actually whisper. Which makes it hard to talk about people behind their backs.

This isn’t a good thing to have in the workplace. Especially at new places of employment. People hear a raised voice and they think any number of things – shouting, anger, frustration. But with me, it’s not the case. I get amped up sometimes, and then I get excited and I TALK REALLY LOUDLY.

I generally don’t need to calm down. I’m an excitable gal. I get going easily. I cannot talk in a low, monotone voice at all. I’m not upset, I’m just using the VOLUME of my voice to convey something. Trust me, you’ll know when I’m pissed.

I’m always amazed at people who can whisper. I mean, I’ve always worked in a cubicle village. Whispering is key if you don’t want anyone to hear what you’re saying. I hear people talking to each other or on the phone and the volume is so low and I’m JEALOUS! How do you get your voice that low? Also, why aren’t you talking louder so I can eavesdrop on your conversations? And are you talking about meeeee?

My friend Teri is the same way. When she and I get together, her husband Kirk likes to be as far away from us as possible. One, because he can pretend he doesn’t know us, and two, because he’ll still be able to hear what we say no matter how far away from us he is.

It’s all just part of my enchanting charm. And probably why I’m still single.

So remember when this happened? The verdict was “your tooth is shit and you are going to need it pulled and get an implant.”

So what did I do? I decided I would ignore it because my dentist cemented the crown back on temporarily and it would last a little while longer. I just wouldn’t eat gummy candy on that side of my mouth.

Done and done!

*makes hand wiping gesture to the computer screen*

I finally bit the bullet and went for a consult a few weeks ago. I knew this was going to be pricey. And drawn out. I figured it would be best to get the first part done this year. That way I could plan ahead for the rest of the procedures with my flexible spending account next year. And/or sell my wilted eggs.

I’m having my tooth pulled on November 18. And then he’s doing a bone graft. And lots of other things that cost a lot of money, aren’t covered by insurance and are necessary because I will need my mouth, teeth and jaw for a lot more years, I hope. (He kept telling me he knew I was going to live into my 90s.)

AND! I’m not getting put under! I’m only doing nitrous because to get put all the way under would have cost me $700 more! Which is ridiculous! I will just deal with the tugging and the pulling and the sawing and all the other unpleasant shit. Hmmmm, maybe I should spend the extra to go under.

The lovely Daisy is going to be a peach and pick me up after surgery. So I full on intend for her to tweet and video tape me in my medically-induced haze. I’d be disappointed if she didn’t.

There is a problem in all of this. Besides being awake for the whole thing and the whole “tooth pulling costing as much as a mortgage payment” thing. Oral surgeon Larry David says there is a bit of an infection in the root of my tooth. (It’s a tooth that had a root canal on it like 20 years ago, so I don’t feel anything.) So in preparation, Surgeon Larry David wants me to take an antibiotic to make sure the infection is all gone.

No big deal, right?

That’s what I was thinking. Until I woke up in a panic in the middle of the night the other night remembering what happened the last time I took antibiotics.

The Kristin Johnsons! POOP IN THE FRIDGE.

So now I’ve got myself all worked up. But I’m going to plan ahead with probiotics now. That way I’ll be all good once I start the antibiotics on Friday.

Because nothing says attractive like a missing tooth and shitting your pants.

#spinstertweets

But regardless, our warm temps from just last week are long gone and it’s only going to get colder. To me, this is one of the worst parts of the year. It’s such a shock to the system and there is nothing you can do about it. No amount of extra clothing, scarves, jackets and socks seem to help. It’s just COLD. But as I pointed out on Twitter this morning, in two months, this weather will seem balmy.

I realized last night that the weather has permanently shifted because of my cats.

See, I let them sleep with me. It’s hard to forbid them to do anything in my house when they have the run of it all day long while I’m at work. They may humor me when I’m home and get off the table/counter/stove when I yell, but they know that once I leave, they can go anywhere they want. Neener, neener, neener.

I don’t mind sleeping with them, for the most part. I have a queen-sized bed and there is room for the three of us. If I even think about closing my bedroom door and locking them out, they just scratch and whine until I let them in. They have realized I have no power over them. They rule the roost. I bet I have the best reputation at the school playground as being the coolest mom ever!

Anyway, in the summer, they don’t sleep very close to me. It’s more of a “well, since you’re sleeping and not going to pet me, I suppose I will sleep too. And I’ll stay in your vicinity so you can not think I’m dead. Meow.”

It’s like this:

Now Simba, he’s just naturally up in your personal space at ALL TIMES. He doesn’t just sit on your lap, he climbs up your chest so that he is lying on you, with his face near yours.

If he just sat like a normal cat, I’d let him on my lap more. That and he likes to lick you, and it’s no wonder why I shove him out of the way so often. And it’s no wonder why he pukes on my carpet.

So no matter the season, he’s sleeping close to me. He also likes to have a paw touching me, which would be cute if it wasn’t so annoying.

But come fall/winter, they realize I keep the heat on low in the house, especially at night, and that the lovely hardwood floors aren’t going to provide them any amount of warmth. I’m it. So my bed then looks like this:

The biggest problem with this is that I am used to my bed and sleeping alone. I sleep right down the middle. I use the whole bed for myself. Because it is my bed. So there are a lot of sprawled out sleeping positions. Positions that get hindered when cats are sleeping, literally, under my nose. Especially when I go to roll over and squash a cat.

I realize this isn’t an issue since they are cats and I pay the rent and I can kick them out. But this requires giving up precious sleep. So I just deal with it.

And pretty much succumb to the realization that if I ever date/marry someone, I’ll just need a king-sized bed. Especially in the winter.

#spinstertweets

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Last Sunday Daisy invited me out on a boat. It was an amazing evening to go out for a sail. And I had never been out on a sailboat. And this was the boat that had won the Race to Mackinac. It was a few hours filled with fresh air, fun people and great views of our beautiful city.

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This weekend I had to work. Well, only Friday and Saturday, but that was enough. My company had a booth at a Health & Fitness Expo downtown in one of the hotels for the Chicago Triathlon. I was opening the exhibit hall on Friday afternoon and since it was close to the office, I figured I would just bring all the materials with me in a box. How could that ever go wrong?

I decided to drive instead of take a big, heavy box on public transit. In my head, I didn’t have to carry BIGHEAVYBOX very far. In my head, I was so, so wrong. SO WRONG.

1) I underestimated the weight of the box.

2) I forgot that I was not parking my car on my floor of the building I work in.

3) I forgot that I didn’t get to park my car on the expo hall floor. Which means I had to carry BIGHEAVYBOX for a REALLY LONG WAY.

4) And this is what BIGHEAVYBOX did to me.

So don’t mind me, I’ll be over here in long pants and long sleeves lest someone at work begins to wonder if my cats are beating me.

(And now as I write this, I’ll be singing this song. “ooh, wah, ooh…let me whisper in your ear…ooh, wah, ooh”)

(I think Twitter has made me lose my ability to write one post about a single topic, without wanting to interject other thoughts in 140 characters or less.)

(I mean, I haven’t even gotten to the point of this post and we’re four paragraphs deep.)

(I blame the heat. Because yesterday, as I stood on the platform waiting for my train, talking on the phone with my brother, I was dripping sweat from my elbow crease. My elbow was sweating! DRIPPING.)

(MY ELBOW!)

Ahem.

Speaking of the heat, I have a secret to share with you. This heat, and the sweatiness and all that it entails, has given me an embarrassing affliction (besides elbow, boob and ass sweat) – it has given me stinky feet and stinky shoes!

I know! GROSS!

I’ve never really had this problem before. And in the past, I guess it wasn’t a problem because I was awful sedentary. I got up to go to the bathroom and that was about it. Also, it was always, always cold in there and I had my space heater on, even in the middle of July. So any kind of perspiration was non-existent.

Now it’s different. I work for a large company. I have to get up and walk to the bathroom, to talk to co-workers and my boss, have to go upstairs to discuss things with other departments. That, plus sometimes I leave work to go grab lunch. All this activity and movement makes a girl perspire. Which apparently means my feet sweat and then I wear the same few pairs of shoes and they start to get smelly.

I went out to the store to buy some Odor Eaters foot powder. I thought this would be a good solution. Except, I don’t wear the shoes that need the powder until I get to work. So if I put powder in them, and then throw them in my bag, I get to work with foot powder covering everything, including my lunch.

So I need suggestions, people! I’m afraid no one will talk to me at work because of my foot odor problem!

That and then do an implant. A process that will take 6-18 months and cost me thousands of dollars. So, that’s fun, huh?

My temporary solution is to do nothing and just stare at the oral surgeon referral that is sitting on my desk at work and pretend I don’t see it. Because extra money is something I do not have. Especially thousands of extra monies.

My thinking is I’ll call the oral surgeon next month. We’ll do a consult and then he’ll pull the tooth. And then I’ll fall off the face of the Earth until 2012 when I can put away thousands of monies in my Flexible Spending account to help offset the out-of-pocket costs. And it’s the dentist, if it isn’t a cleaning, there are ALWAYS out-of-pocket costs, even with insurance.

I trust my dentist and she doesn’t recommend things that are cosmetic. And I saw the remnants of my “tooth” and know it’s not much and starting to decay and it’s just better to get the thing pulled.

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I finished Mad Men this weekend. I watched 7 episodes on Sunday. That and laundry was about all I did. Which was fine, seeing as I was a little hungover from the enormous amounts of vodka I sucked down on Saturday. Dear self, just because it seems to have no liquor in it and it is hot out and you’re thirsty doesn’t mean you need to drink it like it is water. You may up puking on the floor in the corner of the bar later in the night. I said MIGHT.

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I ended up buying these Nike flip flops and they are amazeballs. They are so cushy and so comfy and it feels like you’re walking on pillows. They are exactly what I need for commuting in this swamp we call Chicago in July.

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I was on a boat Friday night at the Chicago Yacht Club. It was my first time at a Yacht Club. I got really excited to get my “I’m On A Boat” badge on foursquare, but it turns out, the Chicago Yacht Club isn’t marked as a boating venue. Therefore, no badge for me.

But I did learn a fun game you can play called Yachter or Notta Yachter. It was very entertaining.

I would like to also point out that I had a beer on a yacht on Friday night and that boat ended up winning the 103rd Race to Mackinac Island. Coincidence? I think not.

This will be my pick-up line the next time I end up at a Yacht Club. Something along the lines of “I’m lucky, do you wanna get lucky?”

HEY-OH!

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I think I have finally caught up on my sleep. The weekend before this last one, I was out by my sister’s to help her take care of my niece Maddie since my sister had just had back surgery. And Maddie decided this would be a perfect time to get her one-year molars and NOT SLEEP. And since I’m not really used to any noise while sleeping, besides the fan, the AC or the cats being stupid, hearing a baby fuss (I was sleeping in her room with her), kind of scared the beejeesus out of me. So much so, I leaped out of bed every time she made a peep. And then took me a little longer to fall back asleep. Just in time for her to fuss again.

Needless to say, I didn’t get much rest that weekend. I don’t know how you parental people do it.

Thankfully she’s cute. So I’ll forgive her.

But then I found this beaut of a photo on my phone:

You guys, I don’t remember much of this evening past leaving the bar that kicked us out before 2. I vaguely remember the cab ride and paying the man, and I remember trying to be very quiet with my keys opening my front door, which doesn’t happen when it’s 4 AM and you’ve been drinking since 7. I DEFINITELY don’t remember taking this photo. But I love that I’m always a blogger because you know I was all “I’m so putting this on my blog as proof!” HA!

(Also, please ignore how dusty my oven is.)

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Since my posting has been so sparse, I never got to tell you that I got my hair cut short in August, right before Rhi’s wedding and my trip to Portland. I’m sure you noticed from the photos, but I never got to do a proper “HEY! I got my hairs did!” post. I just got it done again a few weeks ago, it needed some highlights and I needed the bangs trimmed. This is what it looks like now:

Look! I’m learning to use the self-timer on the camera!

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I also bought my first pair of skinny jeans. I still feel a bit weird in them, but I’m learning to love them! Even fat, hippy girls like me can wear skinny jeans!

Although, unless I have a shirt like that covering up my hips, I don’t feel comfortable in them.

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Have you always wondered what I do most evenings, since I clearly must be too busy to post? I do things like this:

And I post to Facebook with the caption “Sent to kitty jail. Her crime? Excessive shedding.”

Then I take more photos and try and get her to give me the perfect “I’m free BITCHES!” face:

This is more of the “do that again, whore, and I’ll ruin your favorite pair of shoes” look.

#spinstertweets

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Oh! In case you didn’t know, I’m also now posting every Tuesday over on Food Lush! Go check out my first post on the most amazing meatballs you’ll ever have!

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving everyone! Or a great Thursday, my Canadian friends! I’m thankful Canada is America’s hat.

My birthday is my favorite day of the year. It is no secret that I like attention focused on myself, so nothing better than a whole day where people have to be nice to you and shower you with gifts and attention. Sadly I’ll be working for most of the day, but should be going to dinner and out for a few drinks with some friends. I say should because my friend and I spent most of the day in bed with food poisoning or something from whatever we ate on Sunday night. Just when I thought the Kristin Johnsons were gone, I was sadly mistaken and thankful to be home and close to a bathroom.

(I have no direction to this post, can you tell?)

So this month is crazy busy for me. I spent part of the past week/weekend in Pittsburgh for work. We had a meeting and then the company picnic on Saturday. It was a good trip. Usually my trips to the ‘burgh are for 36 hours and I never really get to hang out with my friends/co-workers there. But this trip I had Friday night free and was able to actually go out in Pittsburgh and hang out with people outside of a conference room.

My friend Tiffany owns a bar and so we went to her place on Friday night. It was a blast and so fun to hang out in a casual setting with her, even if she was working as the bartender. Also, it’s nice to have friends who own bars.

The picnic on Saturday was a lot of fun. The food was amazing and it was so nice to meet my co-worker’s families and kids. My flight left at 5 PM on Saturday and then I headed back to Chicago. At that point, it had already been a long day. But it was far from over. I had to head over to my aunt’s house, since she was throwing a party for my cousin who just graduated and got her PHD. The party included a pig roast and thankfully, I missed the pig cooking and being decapitated. But damn, that was a good sandwich!

The  biggest reason I trekked to the party was this little one:

Is she not the cutest baby ever? She’s gotten so big! She’s three months old now and is a little chubby baby. I LOVE chubby babies! She’s such a good baby and laughs at her Auntie already. She must know, at such a young age, how ridiculous I am. I must give off some sort of crazy scent.

Yesterday was my official birthday celebration, watching football at our regular Sunday bar. And there was a new bartender this year and we totally hit it off. The interesting thing is that I thought I had hit it off with previous bartenders at this place, only to realize that they were just being nice to me for my tips. But this guy was different! He actually hung around after his shift ended to hang with me.

AND! He’s from Wisconsin so I told him I was heading to Madison this coming weekend for the ASU/Wisconsin game. So he spent like 20 minutes looking up the addresses of places I HAVE to go when I’m there for the game! How cute is that? Oh, and he gave me his digits. So all in all, the food poisoning was totally worth it.

And then, of course, the cab driver gave me his number. And since I was giddy over bartender guy, I wasn’t even offering mine up. IT IS A GIFT! I should so have a cab driver whisperer show.