Why I Can't Wear Shorts Anymore

Okay, okay, I suppose I CAN wear shorts, but my advanced age aside, I really shouldn't. And, no, it's not because it's winter here and I'd look positively ridiculous. (Incidentally, you know you're ancient when you see young whippersnappers wearing shorts in the winter, or standing at the bus stop in the rain resolutely NOT holding an umbrella, and think how silly they look.)

But I've gotten off track. Back to why I shouldn't wear shorts. I can best illustrate this via a wee story. I was baking a couple of loaves of bread the other day...

Mmmm, just half an hour at 350 degrees...

HOLY SHIT, THOSE AREN'T TWO LOAVES OF RAW DOUGH! THOSE ARE MY THIGHS!!!!!

Have you reared back from your computer, shouting in disgust and rubbing furiously at your eyes? Let me know when you're back and ready to resume reading. I'll wait...

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Geez, it wasn't that bad, was it? Yes? Okay, okay, take your time.

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How are you feeling now? Oh, still a little ill? Try a little Pepto Bismol or, if you're inclined, 3 - 4 shots of tequila. Go on. I'll wait...

There, there. It's going to be okay. I won't do that again, I promise.

Oops, I forgot! My bad!

Hahaha - yes, of COURSE I was going to do it again. But that's the last one, really.

Ladies and gents, these horrifying images reveal the "But wait! There's MORE!" bonus you get when on an MS disease-modifying drug like Copaxone. I've been on it for a couple of years now, and so far these revolting bruises are the worst side effect. Don't get me wrong, giving the injections can be painful, and the site afterward is often sore and itchy. (NO, sore and itchy is not how my skin is normally. Stop being rude.) But unattractive and unsuitable for shorts? Yes indeedy. This is, in part, why I love the winter: Long pants. Maybe even long-johns for good measure. And tights. Plus snow pants.

But, come summertime, when I might enjoy need to work in the garden or take a walk, it's hard to not want to wear shorts. Rest assured, though, I'll be keeping my bruised-fruit-like gams covered up. Thank God for those mid-calf length pants that I think went out of style in 2010. I have a closet full of them. You know, because:

Sorry!! 

I Have a Farting Cat

First, I must give credit where credit is due: thank you, gentlemen, from A Beer for the Shower (ABftS), for bringing to my attention the need to address cat farting. In their most recent blog post, ABftS mentioned this off-putting (and HILARIOUS) behavior. Anyone who spends a nanosecond reading my frequently off-putting blog can well imagine that I find the idea of cat farting amusing. And amusing it is...until it's your cat doing the farting.

The fellows from ABftS didn't realize cat farting exists. (They thought it was a myth, like women farting...which IS a myth, by the way.) But I'm here to tell you that one of the following felines is a farter:

Captain Nap? He looks a bit embarrassed, doesn't he? 

Or could it be the oft-maligned Squeaky?

"Haha! I'm farting on your laptop!"

Now hold on. Before you go and blame poor Squeaky, let's not forget the newest member of the family:

Not darling Pepper Anne!?!  

This picture is a CLUE. 

Yes, friends, the adorable Pepper Anne is not only missing an eye, she's also missing her manners. Maybe it's the stress and excitement of a new home, or maybe it's the super-expensive special diet all three cats are on (she routinely horns in on the adult cats' food, which is a $$$ hypoallergenic variety that Capt. Nap needs). Whatever the reason, the cats and I will be having a pleasant conversation, such as the following:

Me: "Squeaky, did you gnaw on that plant?"
Squeaky: "NO!"
Me: "Capt. Nap, is Squeaky telling Mommy the truth?"
Capt. Nap: "No! She's totally lying!"
Me: "Squeaky, is there something you want to tell Mommy?"

And then Pepper Anne will stroll past and leave a horrific odor in her wake. I know it's her because:

1. It wasn't me (remember: women don't fart)
2. Squeaky is now in the Punishment Box* (a Plexiglass container where she stays until she admits she was naughty)
3. Capt. Nap is lying on a sofa halfway across the room

*NO, I don't put my cats in a Punishment Box. 

If I were guilty of ever passing gas, I can see where this cat-farting business might come in handy.

["AAAAAH, Pepper Anne JUST FARTED AGAIN!!! GOD, IT'S DISGUSTING!!!!"]

But since I do not, there's no reason for me to not get to the bottom of this problem and nip it in the bud. So, I've taken her to the vet and duly dropped off a stool sample. Please wish us luck. Cat farting is amusing only when it's happening to someone else.