October 11, 2004

Discourse

Oz's Weird Obsession

I have one of those large-ish blush brushes with a wooden handle. It resides in my make-up bag. Each morning I take the bag out at the start of my toilette, put it on the bathroom counter along with the mousse and hair spray, and unzip it so I can easily reach tweezers, mascara, etc. Often, in the process of my morning, I will go into another room (more coffee, check e-mail, etc.) and leave the make-up bag unzipped on the bathroom counter.

Oz, he watches me. He waits for his opportunity. Or perhaps he checks every morning when I'm not watching. If the make-up bag is closed, perhaps he jumps up, investigates, and jumps down again without me knowing. BUT. If the make-up bag is open, he will remove the blush brush, and ONLY the blush brush. Even if it's buried underneath other items. Somehow he removes the brush without spilling out the other contents.

I only realize it when I hear the distinctive sound of the brush being batted across the tile floor in the game room or dining room. At which point I will holler a heartfelt, "Oz, GOD DAMMIT!" from wherever I happen to be, and go find him. Usually, once I lay eyes on him, he'll drop it where he stands and take off.

But not THIS morning. No, this morning he was full of piss and vinegar, and decided that it would be fun to make me CHASE him as he raced around with the blush brush in his mouth. He growled low in his throat like he had a kill and didn't want to share with the rest of his pride.

He thinks he's the boss of us.

The thing of it is, it's not surprising that he doesn't take me seriously, because I was laughing so hard I could barely chase him around the house. I don't know why I find this particular obsession of his funny, but I do. It's like a game we play every morning - he waits for me to go into the bedroom, and not TWO SECONDS later, he's on the counter and digging through my make-up.

Anyway, he finally dropped it, and when I reached down to pick it up, he jumped on my leg, muckled on with his surprisingly strong yet clawless paws, and bit the knee of my jeans. Then he raced off, ears back, tail bristled and flipping as he expressed his COMPLETE LACK OF RESPECT.

From Slut to Kindergarten Teacher in Twenty Seconds

Calvin and I went to Rula Bula on Friday night for drinks and people watching. I was having a rare day of feeling pretty good about myself, so I decided to dress in such a way that Calvin might... ahh... forget the color of my eyes. Or even that I have a head. Heh. I put on a flippy black skirt and a cream colored camisole type shirt that was just this side of naughty. With my strappy black heels, I was feeling sex-aay.

I did grab my new 1/2 sleeve, V-neck button up sweater to bring along. When I put it on over my shirt, I looked downright demure. Quoth I to Calvin, "Look! I can go from slut to kindergarten teacher in twenty seconds!" To Calvin's enjoyment, it never got chilly enough to need the sweater.

While we sat enjoying the evening, I spotted one of the regulars at the end of the bar, to whom I had a message to deliver from Heather. She was also a quasi-regular when she lived in Arizona, and made a lot of friends. She asked me to make the rounds and say hello from her to a couple of folks the next time I went, so I did.

I walked up to the bar, and tapped the "gentleman" on the shoulder. The use of ironic quotes shall be self-explanatory momentarily. I cannot do justice to his Irish accent, so please use your fruitful imaginations.

Me - "Hi, do you remember me? I'm one of Heather's friends?"
Girl standing near the bar - "Are you kidding? He never forgets a single woman."
Me - "I'm not single - my husband is sitting over there." I point.
Irish Guy - "Gah, of course I remember you! Jaysus, girl, you're lookin' foine tonight! Is your hoosband here?"
Me - "Yep, he's over there." I point again.
Irish Guy - "Well, shit."
Chef of the establishment, also having a pint - "Yeah, Irish Guy kissed him once. You wanna have another go?"

(Explanatory side note - Heather introduced us to Irish Guy during one of our first visits to Rula Bula. He was enthusiastically tipsy by that time, and was kissing EVERYBODY. Even, to Calvin's horror, the guys. On the CHEEK, though. He tried (tried) to kiss the girls on the mouth. We had to do that artful dodge thing at the last moment so that he put a smack the cheek. Or, you know, the ear.)

Irish Guy - "Well, damn, girl, turn about for me."
I looked him askance, but complied.
Irish Guy - "Shit. Fuck. I mean, jaysus girl."
Me - "Uhh, I'll take that as a compliment."
Irish Guy - "Fuck yes that's a compliment."

I delivered my message for Heather, and weaved through the crowd back to our table, shaking my head and grinning. I recounted the conversation to Calvin, and he grinned and said, "Well, hell yeah! You've got great... eyes."

Calvin once asked me why I dress so conservatively so often, instead of dressing sexy. I told him you get a bigger impact when you DO dress sexy, if it's not something you do all the time. Besides, a girl could let things go to her head, with so many compliments. Vanity is a sin, don'tcha know.

And on that note...

...I leave you with some pictures, and brief commentary.