The Kiss 'o Death! That's All I Need!

I got my Mom into Stephen King's DARK TOWER, which she just finished last week. She's been listening to the whole saga on tape, really getting into it, and at some part in the final book, she had to pull off to the side of the road and sob. She couldn't even go back to work for a half hour till she calmed down and stopped looking so puffy from crying. Now she's absolutely dying for me to finish reading it (I have the last two left to go!) so we can talk about it.

But first, I need to finish ENDER'S GAME. Because it's seemingly everybody's favorite novel of all time, or pretty well up there. Did everyone but me of my generation read it in high school or something? Well, it's pretty good, but I'm halfway in, and it's not, like, monumental or anything. It's better than Orson Scott Card's ULTIMATE IRON MAN, in any case.

It's always hard coming into something that's crazy hyped. Like, every third day someone else on LJ seems to be raving about THE PRESTIGE, and at this point, it had really be something bloody special by the time I finally do see it.

Ah well. Thanks to fiveseconddelay, I have now mastered the perfect Manhattan. I now know the difference between a Bart Simpson Manhattan and a "Legs" Manhattan, if you know what I mean. I think I may have found my signature Heffie drink! I may well need one after I do mass auditions for Actor's Center tomorrow in, oh, nine hours from now.

ingrate pussycat

My poor cat's been limping since yesterday, so we took him to the vet and discovered that his claw on his right paw has been ripped out. Either he did it himself or, the Vet speculated, it's in some other cat. Probably his evil twin and arch-nemesis, I'd imagine. Oh, the claw'll grow back, but for now his foot is so crazy swollen and infected that he can't even walk on it.

So he's to be an indoor cat for the next few days while we keep him medicated. Since he's pretty well been an outdoor cat ever since we got him, he's spent all day protesting. He's yowling right now, actually. Constantly. He has indoor food and water, but he wants to go ow-oww-ww-ww-t! Probably if only to go kitty potty.

I brought the ol' litter box into the living room for him, but had to empty it all and scrub it down since regular litter might make his infection even worse. We're to use a paper pellet litter which, as the Vet predicted, he hates and so far refuses to use. Knowing him, he probably won't use it at all. We have paper towels and spray ready to go.

And still, he yowls. He's staring at me, hopping on his foot in circles, yowling.

Hilarity shall, no doubt, ensue.

Hamlet by way of my Denis Leary/Chris Titus neuroses... brilliance!

BLOO: so how'd [the mass auditions for Actor's Center] go today?
ME: oh, yeah, it went... well, I think! Methinks the Sedaris is the monologue to stick with. It employs my neurotic crazed energies well. Although I don't think I'll be getting called in to play Hamlet with it
BLOO: perhaps not... Hamlet has a different sort of neurosis.
ME: But man, I bet in that case, my Hamlet would be one of the most entertaining in 400 years
BLOO: but would it be in the right spirit? I'm not sure the world is ready for Hamlet via Woody Allen.
ME: Not Woody Allen. My neuroses are far too crazed and sometimes angry
BLOO: hrm.
ME: Oh that this too too solid flesh would melt holy crap I'm going bugfuck AAAAARGHHHH! *runs off screaming, flailing arms*
ME:: *actors look around awkwardly*
BLOO: that would rule, actually.
ME: Claudius, "Erm, well, our sometime sister, now our Qu-"
BLOO: you'd have to thrust it on them without warning.
ME: "AAAAARGHHHH!" I run by again
ME: "TO BE OR NOT TO BE OR NOT TO BE OR NOT TO BEEEEE!"
BLOO: do they do shakespeare for people on crack?
BLOO: you should be the first.
BLOO: dada shakespeare.
BLOO: the mind boggles.

This converstation soon gave way to cannibalistic flirting.

I love our little talks.