Bob’s Ramblings

I got a Facebook message yesterday that mentioned that I was F*cking Awesome.   I’m already well aware of how awesome I am.  I get it all the time.  

For example, when I am at the supermarket by my house,  I find it incredibly hard to shop when I have a constant array of strangers walking up and giving me high fives and mentioning just how awesome I am.   Also, when I’m checking out, the cashiers always comment on how awesome my shirt is and always ask where I get such awesome T-Shirts.  It’s part of a secret society composed of awesome individuals.  I’m not at liberty to discuss much more than that because doing so would make me; well, less awesome.

Well, to be completely honest, most of what I wrote up above is pure fiction.   I don’t get high fives from complete strangers.  If anything, I get confused looks from them when I attempt to give them high fives.  Normally parents hide their children from me and I always here the *click* of automobiles locking when I walk through a parking lot.  Ok, I’m lying here too.

Anyway, this post today is actually going out to pay homage to a dear friend of mine that I consider the epitome of awesomeness.  His name is Mike.  

Mike has the distinct honor (if you can call it one) of being considered my very best friend on the entire planet.  (Note to George: notice that I’m saying this planet.  You’re still my BFF outside of this solar system)

What can I say about Mike that most people don’t already know about him?  That’s a rhetorical question, because if you already knew about Mike, you wouldn’t even have to read this because you would already know that he is indeed awesome.

I first met Mike when I was 18 years old.  I was about a year out of high school and was working at Domino’s Pizza  (Yeah, I had high aspirations).  He was brought in as an MIT (Manager in Training) while I was already one.   Some hottie walked in to pick up her pizza and as she walked out the door, I heard the fateful words that brought Mike and I together in unity… “She wanted me.”  My jaw dropped, because at the time, I was going through this phase where I thought every woman wanted me (even though they didn’t), so to meet someone with as big of an ego as mine was just completely mind blowing.  The conversation that followed went something like this:

• Bob: Pfft, yeah right.  She wanted me.
• Mike:  Are you serious boy?  Do you not see perfection standing in front of your very eyes?
• Bob: Yeah, right about the time when I look in the mirror.
• Mike:  I think what we have here is the beginnings of a new friendship.  Two studs working under the same roof.  Baton Rouge isn’t quite ready for this.

At the time, Mike was 22.  Seeing as how I’m 37 now, this makes that conversation nearly 18-19 years old.  So some of the specifics elude me.  

Shortly thereafter, Mike and I became roomates.  We did the whole answering machine message thing and had fun with it.  It went something sorta like this:

We’re really glad that you called on the phone.

Leave your name and your number at the sound of the tone.

This is Mike

This is Bob too

And we’re better known as the “PLEASURE CREW”

We’re Mike and Bob and we aim to please

We like babes better when they’re on their knees

You might think we’re silly, you might think we’re sick

But if you don’t like it, you can suck my…

Yeah, those were good times.   We ended up having to change it because Mike was switching jobs and was waiting on a call back after an interview.  We made a new one that was a follow up to that one, but it was really crude.  We even named our apartment, ‘The Pleasure Palace’

The span of events that transpired as a result of this partnership are not suitable for posting.   There are tons of stories and I’ll just leave it at that.

Of course, we got older, and responsibilities started creeping up.  Maturity started kicking in as well, and Mike was about to do the inevitable and get married. 

Now Mike, had been married previously, but it was breaking up when I met him, so he was about to get married for the second time.  This time to Randi.  I could write another whole post on Randi, because she was so fucking cool, she could make ice by dipping her fingers in water (not really, but you get the point).   It was no surprise that Mike made me his best man.  We were best friends through and through.   We had each others backs for years and inseparable.  

Mike and Randi eventually split up.  There was a bit of news afterwards surrounding Randi, but I’m not going into that, because I still tear up when I think about what Randi must have gone through.  Mike went on to marry Holly and they moved to Arizona.  Then he moved to Kansas and now he’s back in Louisiana.

He’s been back in Louisiana since the beginning of 2009, and I have yet to talk to him or hang out with him since he’s been back.  But we will.  We always end up meeting back up and enjoying one another’s company.  And as much as I pump up the fact that he’s just so awesome, he’d argue to everyone that I was even more awesome than him.   

Mike and I have the strongest bond that two heterosexual (I stress that) men could have. 

We never fought once.  We never yelled at one another.  We were always just cool.   That’s why I’m writing this today.  This is a tribute to you Slick (that’s my nickname for Mike, because he was just so fucking slick when it came to women).  You’re still my best buddy and always will be.

Ramblings

Growing up, I was always a dog person.  I remember my mom letting me pick out our first family dog.  It was a miniature Schnauzer named Duchess.   Over time, we had another schnauzer named Chelsea.  Both of them are long gone now, but somewhere along the way I became a cat person.

I suppose some of the blame falls on my friend Kevin.  I’m not lying, the guy must of haved about 10 cats living in his house.  Which of course is good if you like cats.  But it’s particularly bad if you don’t like cat urine.

But, the person that deserves the most credit for turning me into a cat person is Monica.   Monica was someone that I dated several years back.  She was a lot of fun and it was quite clear that she loved animals. Monica had an array of animals in and around her home, and she had quite an affinity for cats.  Oooooh, she loved cats.

Well, one evening Monica came over to my apartment and noticed a big black cat lying on someone’s car in the parking lot.  She told me that I needed to get some food and feed the poor baby.  So I did.  Well, anyone that has ever fed a stray cat knows that once you feed a stray cat, that cat will NEVER go away.  This cat began to stalk my door.  As I would walk out in the morning, he would run up to my door and demand food.  So I fed him.  The next thing I know, the cat is in my apartment, and then I’m taking him to the vet and I’m getting him fixed and as I move from that apartment, I’m taking him with me.  So over the course of a few months, I became a cat owner, and named my big black cat, Shaft.

That was nearly twelve years ago.  Some things have changed since then.   My mailing address has changed a few times.  My waist line continues to get larger.  I have hair growing in weird places, and I now have 4 cats.

When I got married nearly 3 years ago, there were very few animal control issues in our home.  She had a dog and I had a cat.  It was simple.

• Give dog food, give cat food.
• Let dog out, clean litter box.
• Let dog back in, beat the cat for scratching the furniture.

It was easy.  But controlling the number of animals in your home becomes increasingly difficult when an extra added element is thrown in that most people don’t take into consideration;  the ever popular “Can we keep him?” phrase.

Trace saw a little kitten outside while playing basketball with one of his friends and thought that I would just jump at the idea of keeping a new kitten.  Why?  Oooh, because I like cats.  He had proof, I brought one with me when I married his mom.  So imagine the look on his face when I adamantly refused.  “Hell no, don’t ask me again, we don’t need anymore pets in this house. No!”  He went to mom and she convinced me to let him stay inside for a few nights because it’s “cold” outside.

I’m a sucker.  I agreed to let this animal in my house because it’s cold outside.  I’m telling you though, this animal knew I was opposed to the idea because this cat crapped on my favorite blanket, not once, but twice.  After the second time, my wife convinced me to throw it away and buy me a new one.  Well, after a while, I warmed up to the kitty and Susan’s sister convinced me that this kitty was a male, so we named “him” Xander.

While this was going on, there was a stray hanging out outside of our back door.  “He” was so cute because “he” was tailless and looked like a little bunny rabbit.   Once again, I attempted to disprove the feeding of the stray theory by feeding “him” only to learn that I had been duped once again by a notorious feline.

As the weeks went on, and I fed my 2 inside cats and now my 1 outside cat, I began to notice that Xander was getting a little thick around the edges.  I mean thick.  Enough for me to ask my wife how much food she was giving “him”.  A trip to the vet confirmed my fears, Xander was not a “him” he was a “her” and was very pregnant.  The next thing you know, I’m becoming a worried father and crap and babying Momma Xander and making sure she’s all comfortable all of the time.  I would ridicule Trace playing too rough with her and I’m making sure she’s being taken cared of all of the time.

We went out of town for Easter (we always go to my father-in-law’s in Houston) and I had a neighbor pop in and check on Momma Xander like 3 times a day because I was sure she was going to have her babies while I was out of town. She didn’t.  We got a call from the neighbor once we got home and she informed me that she thought TK (Tailless Kitty) was pregnant also.  How could that be? TK is a boy.  Right?  Wrong.  I’m not about to have two pregnant cats in my house, so she’ll have to make do on her own.

On April 1, 2008 Xander started acting all weird by meowing excessively and following me around the house.  I became concerned, so I decided to stay home from work that day because I was certain her babies were coming that day.  (Hmm, weird, I took April 1 off this year too. Not planned.)  So I made her a little comfy spot in the closet because it was dark and thought I would hang out with her for the day.  I brought a book, a pillow and my Nintendo DS in there with me to keep her company.  She didn’t have her babies though.  She did during the night.  She ended up having 6 overall, but 1 didn’t make it.

Anyway the next couple of days were filled with ooooooohs and ahhhhhhhhs from all of us admiring the little babies.   Only a few days had passed since Xander (still inappropriately named) her babies when I noticed that TK was acting all weird outside.  Shit.  I knew what this is.  I saw Xander acting this way just four days before.  So I made a little comfy area for TK in my shed outside, propped the door open and left some food for her.   I went inside to let me wife know and to show her to spot in the shed, when I was actually witnessing TK giving birth to her 4 kittens.

We let a couple of days go by and we kept checking on TK’s babies, but were surprised one morning when all four od her babies were missing.  Gone.  Nowhere to be found.  Except I did find them, in a box of tools and stuff in the shed.  TK had hidden her babies.  So thinking that I couldn’t handle the idea that those poor defenseless kittens would accidentally get hurt, I relented and allowed TK and her babies into the house.

So at that point, I had 1 dog, 1 male cat, 2 female cats, and 9 kittens under one roof.   It worked out fine for a few weeks, but then those little eyes started to open up and they began to wander around the house.   It got to a point where we had to literally perform what we called, a “baby count” before leaving the house.  Believe me, it was much harder than it sounds.  “One, two, three, fou….wait, I counted that one already…stay still, ok, one, two, three, stop moving damnit!”  Instead it was like, “Ok, I have 2 tailless ones over here, I see 2 black ones over there, there are two gray ones with white paws over by the window, two gray ones with gray paws rolling around in the crap and Socks is taking a nap on the couch.  Let’s go!”

We found a home for TK quite easily.  The neighbor’s parents took her.  My boss and his family took four kittens and we gave 3 kittens to a friend of a friend.  We decided to keep the two tailless ones.

So that brings me back to where I am now.  Taz (the dog), Shaft (the immortal black cat), the female cat named Xander, and my two babies; Chubs and Piglet.   I’ve been thinking a lot about my kittens this past weekend, because yesterday they became 1 year old.  My wife thought I was crazy for wanting to get them birthday presents, but she allowed me to anyway.

As last night winded down, I pretended to talk like one of the kittens out loud while my wife was in the room… “This was the best birthday I’ve ever had daddy!”  To which she responded, “It’s a good thing I love you, because you’re freaking weird.”

Ramblings

I took a day off from work yesterday.   Yeah, I told my wife that I was going to take a day off and get likes tons of stuff done.  Damnit, I was going to be all responsible and be a good husband and it would be all neat and stuff.

The conversation went sorta like this: “I’m going to take the day off and get some stuff done around the house today.  I’m going to do laundry, I’m going to hang that ceiling fan in the spare room, I’m going to bring Taz and Shaft to the vet, I’m going to go to Wal-Mart, I’m going to pick Trace up from school, I’m going to clean the kitchen, and I’m going to cut the grass.   Here I am, saying that I’m going to do all this stuff, but I won’t have time to get it all done, but I’m going to do my best.”

So, how did the day turn out?  Well, despite the fact that I was taking the day off, I still managed to wake up before the alarm clock.  I decided to let my wife sleep a little longer and got up and did the daily ritual of getting Trace up and off to school.   I then throw some stuff into a crock pot so dinner can cook throughout the day.  As my wife was dressing for work, I began to gather the animals for the trip to the vet. 

Getting Taz (the extremely fat chihuahua) into the car is as easy as luring him with a dog treat.  Yeah, like he needs another dog treat.  Getting Shaft into the cat carrier was a feat all unto itself.   He’s the only one of our cats that still has his front claws and he intended to use them.  He weighs like 15 pounds and he’s solid.  Shaft has learned how to use his appendages to keep me from pushing him into the cat carrier.  I was kinda like, “Come on! It’s not like I put you into this thing all of the time!”  After I managed to squeeze him in, he began to howl.  His howling is not pleasant to say the least.

So I get to the vet with the intention of leaving them there for the day and heading off to Wal-Mart.  The receptionist chick tells me that they will see my pets now, so I decided to wait.  So I go into the little room with Taz and Shaft and the woman shows me an easier way to get Shaft in and out of the cat carrier.  Apparently, I wasn’t aware of what those little knobs and crap were on the outside of the carrier that will allow the top and bottom of the carrier to separate.  Go figure, I’ve had that carrier for 10 years and I’m finally learning how to use it.   I’m not going to go into details of the trip to the vet.  Let’s just say that my pets didn’t care for getting their temperature taken and I consider myself grateful that my temperature can be taken by putting a thermometer in my mouth.

So, the trip to Wal-Mart is out because well, I have the pets in the car.  So I bring them home.  I took the advice of a friend and cracked open a beer.  As a sat in my spot on the couch, I thought, “You know, you should really try and catch up on one of those episodes of Smallville”.  So I did.  Afterwards, I noticed that I still had like 5 more episodes to catch up on, but thought that I should really watch that movie that Susan doesn’t care to see so I can get a new one from Netflix.  So I put “The Grudge 2″ on and began watching it.  I wasn’t impressed.  Any horror movie where I began to drift off to sleep isn’t worthy of any mentioning. 

I look at the clock and see that it’s a little after 1 now.  Crap, I have a den meeting tonight.  I’m going to have to go to Wal-Mart anyway.  So I hop in the shower and head over to Wal-Mart.  I then decide to pick Trace up from school on the way home.   By now it’s 3:30 or so.  I decide to make an attempt at doing laundry, but end up only changing our sheets.

I then sit down and watch another episode of Smallville.  Trace comes home from playing and we head off to the den meeting.

Later that evening, Susan asks, “So what did you do today on your day off?”

“Ummm, I took the pets to the vet, watched Smallville, watched The Grudge 2, drank a beer, went to Wal-Mart, picked up Trace from school, watched Smallville and uhhhh, I think that’s it.”

She then responded with, “So you pretty much slacked off today?”

Yeah, pretty much.  Leisure Rules.

Ramblings