Cat Story

I don't want to hurt my cat's feelings.

This says a lot about me, but not much about the cat. Allow me to explicate: Xena-kitty is ten years old, and posessed of exactly seven teeth. Hygiene is not her strong suit, nor is brainpower. But she is cute. None can resist the Big Blue Eyes of Doom!

Right now those big blue eyes are staring at me, begging for confirmation that their owner is indeed a Mighty Huntress, whose very name strikes terror into the hearts of small rodents. She presents as evidence an old cat toy: a small stuffed fish whose tail was lost to my dog's puppy days and whose body is riddled with puncture-marks.

Aw Xena, you're kind of pathetic. But I can't tell you that.

When she came trotting downstairs, meowing urgently, I thought something was wrong. This wasn't her "Give me food! Now!" meow, nor was it her "I wandered into a closet and now I can't remember how to get out!" meow. As she came into view, all became clear: this was her "Look what I caught! I am a Mighty Huntress!" meow. Her partner-in-crime, Mercatroid, has a similar meow that he used when he caught my sister's pet mouse.* Even the late Kinda, a neurotic scaredy-cat who piddled on herself and ate cardboard, managed to catch an actual fish from our aquarium and drag it upstairs to show everybody.** And Michiko...we won't go there.*** But here is Xena, waiting expectantly for me to praise her for catching a stuffed cat toy.

Aw, Xena. You are so not a Mighty Huntress. Darnit, stop looking at me like that! ...Oh, fine. C'mere and I'll scratch your chin.

*This happened twice, to the same mouse. Miraculously, it survived both encounters and died peacefully of old age.
**The fish also survived the encounter and lived to a ripe old age.
***She wears the guise of a cute, fluffy kitten, but is almost certainly some sort of bloodthirsty demon.

Meet my Mom.

My mother is quite openminded about the popular music of my generation, as long as it's not too "weird" (she's fond of hip-hop, but the White Stripes are right out). The only problem is that she can't remember which songs go with which artists, so she depends on my sister to keep track of her musical tastes...which is what prompted the following:



Edit: dagnabitall, I've just realized I put the steering wheel on the wrong side. So just pretend we're British, okay?

...cont'd.

So here's the rest of my reciept-paper doodles.



This is from the day the president of the company was coming to "grade" our store and everyone was going nuts preparing for it. I kept wondering when he was going to walk in the door, and whether he'd be announced, and then my imagination kind of ran with it...



Dr. Stephen Maturin meets Dr. Stephen Strange. Cracktastic Marvel Comics/Patrick O'Brian crossovers are the sort of thing my mind likes to come up with to amuse itself.

Kylie and the World of Work

My last entry corresponds roughly with my getting hired at Shirt-Folding Store, which is where I've whiled away many a (paid-by-the) hour in the last month or so. For a summer job it's not at all bad and my co-workers are all super-nice, but there is a lot of time spent standing around waiting for a customer to wander in. I've accumulated a number of doodles done on reciept-paper done during these times. I was going to post all of them, but some didn't come out and in others you can see the company logo on the paper (I'm probably paranoid to be worried about this, but let's just stick with Shirt-Folding Store, okay?). So I've only put one up for now, but I will probably post the others after some retakes and tweaking.



This is one of the minor mishaps that occurred during the markdowns hoopla last week. I got to wander around with this cool zapper thingy and print out price stickers. At one point I had to replace the roll of label-tape in the printer, but I put it in wrongside-up and when I tried to make price tags it went haywire and spit out about eight feet of tape before I could fix it.