Wednesday, January 23, 2008
An unsteady weekend |10:10 PM| My birthday party was this past weekend.
The premise was to make small cakes, and I did not expect the level of cake output demonstrated. I was damned happy. Kristina made an excellent cake (with a secret recipe she'd extracted using truth serum or something) and T-shirts, all in the spirit of "Portal".
Cass's cake had that bad ass frosting she's been using. Stacy made a cake whose rum content was approaching that of super-saturation, or perhaps, Hunter S. Thompson. Mike and Sheel prepared fantastic brownies with (sadly melted) frosting that said "Call 1-800-Brendie for an OK time"
When I got home that evening, before the party, I found that the apartment was nearly a Lovecraftian horror. Slime mold, an unidentifiable and terrible odor, debris of broken lives, etc. Jimmy, Jeff, and I had not been there for any real length of time in weeks, and like a neglected child the apartment was acting out for attention.
I spent the next two hours making the place habitable. I claimed I was cleaning, when I removed dozens of bottles, scraped slime off of dishes, and mopped the floors I technically was. However, with the hurling of most of the apartment into Jimmy's room, and the covering of other objects with bedsheets, I was really set decorating. Thanks, independent film experience! I should have removed all trademarked items while I was at it.
I also, for a few hours, lost my awesome cat. God, the ripping emotional impact was... it's a cat. It's a pet, but I am emotionally invested in her. Seeing her run, being unable to catch up and watching her vanish into the undergrowth is still fucking with me a bit.
It wasn't panic, it was just incredible frustration and helplessness. Stupid cat. We managed to find her after two and a half hours, and given the near freezing temperatures that was probably pushing it, chance of survival-wise.
While she was escaping (A salesman at the door, she jumped by my legs, salesman did a poor job of grabbing at her) She scratched the shit out of me, and bit my hand a couple of times.
One of the bites managed to poke a flexor tendon, and it caused a hell of a reaction. I bring this up because for quite a time (I mean, after needing a bunch of pain killers and immersion in ice water) I couldn't close my hand, my middle finger always in partial salute to the world. Figures.
In any case I still managed to tape the Naked Empire show that evening, even if I was so late I could only get the NauseaCam footage with the hand held, no static shot. It was a good show, but shorter than usual.
(2) comments
An unsteady weekend |10:10 PM| My birthday party was this past weekend.
The premise was to make small cakes, and I did not expect the level of cake output demonstrated. I was damned happy. Kristina made an excellent cake (with a secret recipe she'd extracted using truth serum or something) and T-shirts, all in the spirit of "Portal".
Cass's cake had that bad ass frosting she's been using. Stacy made a cake whose rum content was approaching that of super-saturation, or perhaps, Hunter S. Thompson. Mike and Sheel prepared fantastic brownies with (sadly melted) frosting that said "Call 1-800-Brendie for an OK time"
When I got home that evening, before the party, I found that the apartment was nearly a Lovecraftian horror. Slime mold, an unidentifiable and terrible odor, debris of broken lives, etc. Jimmy, Jeff, and I had not been there for any real length of time in weeks, and like a neglected child the apartment was acting out for attention.
I spent the next two hours making the place habitable. I claimed I was cleaning, when I removed dozens of bottles, scraped slime off of dishes, and mopped the floors I technically was. However, with the hurling of most of the apartment into Jimmy's room, and the covering of other objects with bedsheets, I was really set decorating. Thanks, independent film experience! I should have removed all trademarked items while I was at it.
I also, for a few hours, lost my awesome cat. God, the ripping emotional impact was... it's a cat. It's a pet, but I am emotionally invested in her. Seeing her run, being unable to catch up and watching her vanish into the undergrowth is still fucking with me a bit.
It wasn't panic, it was just incredible frustration and helplessness. Stupid cat. We managed to find her after two and a half hours, and given the near freezing temperatures that was probably pushing it, chance of survival-wise.
While she was escaping (A salesman at the door, she jumped by my legs, salesman did a poor job of grabbing at her) She scratched the shit out of me, and bit my hand a couple of times.
One of the bites managed to poke a flexor tendon, and it caused a hell of a reaction. I bring this up because for quite a time (I mean, after needing a bunch of pain killers and immersion in ice water) I couldn't close my hand, my middle finger always in partial salute to the world. Figures.
In any case I still managed to tape the Naked Empire show that evening, even if I was so late I could only get the NauseaCam footage with the hand held, no static shot. It was a good show, but shorter than usual.
Labels: Cat, Parties, Pictures
(2) comments
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