mizzmarvel: (velvet-y! - art by so_spiffed)
Today I actually went out and did stuff, which was pretty exciting considering I spend most of my Saturdays streaming Netflix and napping.

First off: the Cincinnati Zoo, which I have to say is pretty awesome. Whenever I go to a zoo, I'm overwhelmed with thoughts like, Okay, this thing can't be real. It's a robot. Or Jim Henson's Creature Shop designed this. Giraffes, for example, are too bizarre to exist, even as they stand in front of me. The only creatures that are entirely exempt from this are the apes, because they seem so close to human. And the cats, because they're all just big Sorshas to me. I constantly struggle to remind myself that lions do not want me to scratch behind their ears and given them some Purina One.

Maybe I need to watch Grizzly Man again.

Anyway, then it was off to the mall. This was especially hard because for whatever reason, I felt like buying ALL THE THINGS. But I managed to restrict myself to a bar of LUSH soap and a tiny bottle of Philosophy body wash. Because those are things I totally needed. But I did at least manage to put down a million boxes of Christmas cards, face wash, tins of tea, a Fossil watch that I want rather desperately, all of Sephora, and a ton of other things. I call that a success.

Not a success: this boring post.
mizzmarvel: (charlotte loves kitty - lolzipopzz)
Sorsha had a gentleman caller yesterday.

at least I think it was a boy )

He seemed pretty interested in her, while she was interested in growling and telling him to get the hell away from her air conditioner. It's good to know that if an evil gang of stray cats breaks in here, Sorsha has my back. Of course, if an evil human were to break in, she'd trot over to make friends.
mizzmarvel: (mutts - mooch & little pink sock)
There's a cat that lives in the woods behind my apartment. It's black and long-haired, like my cat Sorsha, albeit rather scruffy and scar-faced, so I call it Bizarro Sorsha.

Unfortunately, Real Sorsha fucking hates Bizarro Sorsha. There's a little folded-up towel where she sits and stares out the sliding glass doors for roughly 23.5 hours a day, guarding her kingdom. Mostly, that's fine, except for very early mornings (think around 5 am), when Bizarro Sorsha starts making the rounds.

I don't know if Bizarro Sorsha is fascinated with Real Sorsha or is just an asshole, but it comes onto the patio to stare my cat down. Sorsha's reaction, unfortunately, is to growl very briefly before escalating into full-on screaming, like she's being murdered. Which leads to me stumble-running into the living room in a panic, half asleep, just in time to see Bizarro Sorsha make its getaway back into the woods. And I am filled with hatred for the world, which Sorsha looks at me nonchalantly.

It's not really a fun way to start the day, let me tell you.


Apr. 20th, 2011 11:49 pm
mizzmarvel: (fairy/jellyfish)
I decided to write a post based on whatever icon I randomly chose with my eyes closed.

What is it about jellyfish that I find so hypnotic and so terrifying? They're just mindless floating sea monsters, consuming and stinging and carrying on, but at the same time they're beautifully alien and bizarre. I love to see how they propel themselves through water, tentacles dangling, and their bright-colored swarms are breath-takingly nightmarish.

I would not like to drape part of one in my hair.

My number-one irrational animal fear, though, is the humble praying mantis. Jesus Christ, even seeing a picture of one is enough to transform me into a quivering mass of faint terror.
mizzmarvel: (ducklings + chaps = YAAA)
I'm still getting a ton of charity solicitations, though they've thinned out a lot over the past few months. One of the organizations that's still trying really, really hard to get money out of me is Ducks Unlimited, which aims to preserve wetlands and, um, ducks, apparently.

Which, hey, I fully support. Except when I looked closely at one of the multiple address label sheets they sent me (*sigh*), I noticed some of the labels featured pictures of ducks, some of dogs...and some of dogs and ducks. Ducks that are sort of limp, and dangling from the dog's mouth.

Awesome. "Save the ducks...so we can have some ducks to kill! WOO! San Dimas High School football rules!"

And just a few days ago, my lack of donation did not deter Ducks Unlimited from sending me this beautiful piece of art:

It's called Duck Masters. No, really. )

Stunning, no? Evidently, ducks and water dogs are the totally the bffs of nature. The Lucy and Ethel of the wetlands, if you will. They love to just chillax together and not try to break each other's necks or quack and fly away in terror. Those dogs on my address labels, they weren't carting around the corpses of ducks; they were just giving their chums a friendly oral neck massage!

Either that, or this is the groomsman portrait from Max and Louie's wedding album.
mizzmarvel: (penguins - not jamie madrox but could be)
I donated money to the Audubon Society a few months ago, and now I'm on the mailing list of every wildlife organization ever. Today, I got a "survey" from Defenders of Wildlife that wants to know my very important opinions (and maybe could I send $15 too?). Sample question:

Do you think wolf pups should be gassed in their dens even though they have just been put back on the endangered species list?

Yes. Yes, Defenders of Wildlife, that's like my favorite freaking thing. Kill baby animals, that's what I love to do! Also:

Should Big Oil be allowed to drill in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, America's greatest wildlife sanctuary?

Actually, no, I don't, but if you're going to pretend to do a survey to bilk me out of money, you could at least attempt impartial questions. But thank you for the amazing free gift of address labels.
mizzmarvel: (pew pew! - superheroine)
Tonight I did the dishes, cleaned the cat's box, finished a book, did 120 crunches and washed my face. That's enough, right? I don't have to do anything tomorrow, like go to work or put on clothes? I've got to have met the responsibility quota for the week.

Unrelated, but my computer screen is providing the only light in the room right now, so a confused housefly keeps head-butting into it and sending me into a tizzy of the most careful shooing hands in all the land (I can't risk harming Capa II) and hissed curses as the fly tries to obey by flying into my face.

I clearly have such interesting things to say.
mizzmarvel: (namor's brave in water - coqalane)
Here is the only thing I care about in regards to the Jersey Shore: The inspiration for Shark Attack??

Well, that and the fact that it's the setting for many summertime BSC books.

But seriously, this bit of history enthralls me, and I have no idea why. I'm not exactly scared of being attacked by a shark, though their eyes give me a major case of the willies, and I've never seen Jaws. I'm just neutral about sharks in general...except for this one story.

I think a big part of it is that the 1916 attacks totally revamped our culture's vision of sharks. Did you do that prior to 1916, scientists doubted that shark attacks could prove fatal to humans? They thought shark jaws weren't strong enough. Um, hey, early twentieth century scientists? Have you freaking seen the jaws on these suckers? That's like saying, "Sure, bluejays have wings and hollow bones...but I doubt they can fly."

The crappy part is that while the general public no longer sees sharks as harmless, toothy kittens of the sea (okay, maybe I exaggerate), people typically went overboard and killed millions of sharks for no reason. Do sharks kill people? Obviously. But it's less than 100 a year. Consider that thousands of people die every year by being struck by lightning. (Lightning really does scare me, by the way. Man oh man.)

Sharks have gotten an undeservedly bad reputation. But I still wouldn't want to meet one.

And okay, I lied -- I once was afraid of sharks. The story: When I was about five, my older brother was telling me about how this time at Sea World, this killer shark got loose and started bursting up from the floors and eating unsuspecting tourists. Only what he didn't clue me into was the fact that he was describing the plot of Jaws 3D, and that the shark was busting through glass underwater tunnels. I thought this meant that some sharks could just burst out of the dirt or something. I spent a terrified afternoon sitting on my bed, warily watching the floor.
mizzmarvel: (jennifer)
Today a bunch of us, including [livejournal.com profile] queenitsy who I will mention by name because she has an LJ name to link to, and I went to the Bronx Zoo to celebrate [livejournal.com profile] poisonivory's birthday. Hooray for her birth!

I had never been before, and it'd been a few years since I went somewhere to stare at monkeys, polar bears, and so forth. My favorite parts:

* Tiger feeding! I realize that, yes, they will eat me given the opportunity and then merrily play with my corpse, but omg, fuzzy kitty belly.

* The gorillas. You had to pay extra money to see them, and my foot was kind of hurting at this point, but it was so worth it. The zoo has twelve, including youngish ones, and they were very playful and not at all shy about getting up close to the glass and staring back. At one point, someone waved to one and she waved back. And it's just kind of awesome to look into the eyes of a fellow primate, so close, and realize, Jesus, yes, we're related. The kinship is close enough to recognize, and it's wonderful and amazing.

In conclusion, I want to be a tiger when I grow up. (Or a bear.)

The title of this post comes from an episode of Bobby's World. It's a song, and I still know it. What is wrong with me.
mizzmarvel: (mary anne/tigger - entwashian)
I just got back from the Westminster Dog Show a little while ago. When I was given the chance to go, I pretty much jumped for it, because my family's dog-crazy and I'd watched it on TV as a kid my whole life. I figured it'd be fun to see some of it in person.

And it was. Thanks to the magic of General Admission, we were able to get some really awesome seats -- as close as possible without actually being on the floor with the dogs. Which thus resulted in me saying things like:


"Those dogs look like they're related to Winston!"

"English sheepdogs look like they were created in Jim Henson's creature shop."

"That dog has a puffy tail!"

It was cool.

After a while, we went to the area where all the dogs rest up before/after and got to pet pugs and stuff. This was a bad idea, because it only made me want one even more. Luckily, I was able to cram about four of them in my purse.
mizzmarvel: (mary anne/tigger - entwashian)
You know, I often find myself wistfully wishing I could have a dog. But the more I think about it -- why? All the dogs we had in my living memory were horrible creatures in one way or another. The cast of characters:

MOOLA -- our little mutt, smart enough to escape the backyard, not smart enough to avoid pregnancy. Worst mom dog ever; she'd lure her puppies into escaping with her, then would casually return, sans children.

ITCHY -- one of Moola's puppies, which no one wanted because she was stupid and horrible. The only naturally racist dog I have ever known; she'd chase black people down the street, and needless to say, we did not train her to do that. Also bit my best friend's sister.

SANTI -- a Dalmatian we adopted for a short while. Chewed up the Nintendo cords, as well as many of my Barbie's limbs. For a while, I had many melodramatic stories about Ken still loving Barbie, despite the horrible mutilations she suffered in that house fire.

BOGGS -- a really sweet basset hound who also had no brain. Would eat glass Christmas ornaments off the tree, then be really sad about it later. Would also eat his own poop, live gerbils, any foodstuff you turned your back on, God knows what else.

OTHERS -- I can't remember much about these ones, so they must not have been awesome. Candy (my little brother stole this one), Shady Lady (once hid under the bed for hours, cowering), Willie (named after Willie Nelson)

That being said, there are some dogs in my life who rocked. My grandparents had a Rhodesian ridgeback, Waylon (as in Jennings) who was huge and scary and strong as anything, yet completely gentle and sweet. Their other big dog, Shadow, was also a sweetheart who loved to have her butt smacked. My great-grandma's cocker spaniel O.J. (um, she totally believed in O.J.'s innocence and got the dog during the trial) was loving and loyal, and when he would later visit Grandma in the nursing home, would be quiet and attentive and totally gentle with her.
mizzmarvel: (tommy's sick - context)
Last night, I dreamt that I went to Chik Fil-A and mistakenly ordered a mouse patty sandwich. Once I figured out that problem, immediately after ordering, I was grossed out, but since I'd already paid for it (I'm so cheap-o), I ate it anyway.

I woke up feeling nauseated. And I haven't really felt right all day.

According to DreamMoods.com:

To see mice in your dream, indicates that you are spending too much time dwelling on minor problems and insignificant matters.

To see mice feeding or eating, suggests that someone is trying to bring down your self-confidence. Some ruthless people are nipping away at your resources.

So in conclusion, I have no freaking clue what that dream meant.

Star Trek was A+++, though.
mizzmarvel: (mutts - mooch & little pink sock)
Mom: ...okay, do you want to talk to Tyler [my little brother]?

Me: Sure.

Mom: Okay, I'm giving the phone to him. *pauses* I had a really bad day, but I don't want to talk about it, because I'll get emotional.

Me: Okay.

Mom: Here he is.

Tyler: *takes phone, then muffled talking to Mom* Why's Mom being all weird about this?

Me: Huh?

Tyler: Mom wants me to tell you that her cat got out and the cat-eating dog got off his leash and now she hasn't seen Lola in two days.

*A few minutes go by. After trying to reassure Mom, Tyler and I talk about other things*

Tyler: Did you see 48 Hours Mystery last night? Dude --

Mom: *in the background, calling into the Arizona night* Lola? Lola, come home...

Me and Tyler: *sigh*

*A few more minutes. We continue talking about 48 Hours*

Me: That detective totally hated that kid. He kept every single piece of evidence for him, but burned all the rape tapes? What the heck --

Mom: *in the background, sobbing and wailing* I just want Lola to come home!

Tyler: Oh my God, Mom.

*We spend several minutes telling Mom that becoming hysterical won't solve anything. Back to 48 Hours*

Tyler: And then the DNA was...oh my God. Lola's been sitting right here, eating.

Mom: *in the background, hysterically giddy* I'm okay! I'm more than okay.
mizzmarvel: (robin pensive - mignolagraphics)
Most random song to have stuck in my head: the Big Red theme song. Also, why do I know all the words to it? My parents depended on the TV to raise their kids, I guess.

When I was a kid, we gave one of my dog's puppies from her first litter to a friend of the family. (Read: my parents' drug dealer. Yeeeeeah.) He was a big black roly-poly puppies, cute and fluffy, and he got named Mac. Whenever we went to her house (yes, the kids were brought the kids to the drug dealer's house), my dad would split a piece of Big Red gum into two, and after we'd chewed for a while, we'd give the wads of gum to Mac. He really liked it, and as a result, over ten years later, when I see Big Red, I think of that dog.
mizzmarvel: (The Lady of Shalott - entwashian)
Good things:

1. [livejournal.com profile] poisonivory and I went to a comic book store where [livejournal.com profile] goraina was signing the latest BSC graphic novel, Claudia and Mean Janine. She was very nice, sketched me a great Claudia, the store seemed awesome, and there was ice cream. Yay!

2. Chocolate souffle cake.

3. Puppy cam.

Not good things:

1. I think maybe I can't afford my health insurance. My eyes are filled with tears right now.
mizzmarvel: (mauling is a lucrative career-entwashian)
I don't have much experience with wildlife, short of my college's resident squirrel population and the few birds that can survive in Southern California. One time I was driving down Harbor Boulevard in Anaheim and screamed because I saw a chipmunk in an empty lot. I have written wonderingly about seeing a gopher for the first time and when the work day stopped so everyone could go look at a raccoon. Non-pet animals are very foreign to me.

So it was a bit startling when, sitting on a bench in Madison Square Park and eating my lunch, a squirrel jumped up right next to me - no more than an inch from my shoulder - made direct eye contact with me, and then looked very pointedly at the taco in my hand.

I squirmed away pretty freaking fast, but later I did give him a piece of taco shell. He snatched it up before the world's fattest pigeon (which made no attempt to even pretend to peck at the ground and look for something that wasn't people food) could take it. It's nice to have lunch with someone.
mizzmarvel: (story - becs1024)
Earlier, I walked into my room to find my cat intently watching an enormous cockroach skittering toward the desk. I killed it, and Sorsha looked up at me like I was the greatest hero in the world.

Well, I'm glad someone thinks so.

(Also, this makes two giant cockroaches killed in one night. And one was killed yesterday, I think. It's not like we're rolling around in filth or anything - just big bugs live in the south, I guess.)

oh deer

Aug. 22nd, 2008 11:02 pm
mizzmarvel: (mauling is a lucrative career-entwashian)
Tonight I ate venison for the first time and, hm. It wasn't terrible, but it kind of grossed me out because I kept thinking of a) Bambi and b) dead deer I've seen by the side of the road. The sentimental taboo thing I'm sure I could get over - I mean, I love ducks and think they're adorable, but I've eaten and enjoyed them.

But the mental image of almost every dead deer I've ever seen, legs splayed, guts on the pavement, is not entirely appetizing.

This reminds me of one of the more memorable surveys I took as a call center operator. I once spoke with a very nice woman who assured me that the body shop had repaired her car well, but that she was disappointed that they hadn't cleaned all the DEER BLOOD out of the interior. Yeah, um, that's definitely something to complain about!


Aug. 20th, 2008 11:08 pm
mizzmarvel: (mary is shocked - poisonivory)
Okay, so I had things to talk about (I think), but I can't remember them because everything in my brain has been shoved aside by the fact that I just found a SLUG in the DISHWASHER.

And I touched it with my BARE HANDS. Because I thought it was a MUSHROOM.

Gah gah gah fhdjgbgbsk

This was almost as surreal and unexpected as the time I somehow inhaled tuna that was left in my dorm's drinking fountain. I still have no idea how that happened.

(P.S. I put the slug outside in the bushes. Maybe this will improve the bad karma I got for salting those snails in my grandma's garden when I was a kid.)
mizzmarvel: (tortoise wins and don't you forget it)
We went out on the boat again today, only this time we started off down the river, heading into sort of swampy, narrow parts. And guess what! When you know there are potentially alligators in the water, EVERY FREAKING FALLEN LOG LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE AN ALLIGATOR. Hooray.

Deliverance jokes made: two.

Anyway, yeah, that felt like the South. Speaking of which, we're going to Charleston later this week. YAY.


mizzmarvel: (Default)
Could that someone be Mack the Knife?

January 2012



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