The Cat Peed In The Toilet (and other internet mysteries)

Isn’t the internet a mystery?

Siamese twins!

Siamese twins!

One second you are checking out some blogs, surfing around, and the next thing you know you are watching a cat pee into a toilet.

Will wonders never cease?

I have been this close to giving up on toilet training That Fucking Cat for the last month or so. We seem to experience set-back after set-back and there is this little part of me that is just waiting to discover her secret pooping place, which in this house could be anywhere.

And then there is the complete disaster that is now my guest bathroom. Little walnut litter pellets everywhere.


But when I throw up my hands and loudly declare that I’M DONE and I’VE FUCKING HAD IT Loony jumps in there to intervene.

“I think she’s getting it. Let’s give her more time.”


Which is why he and I are good together. On some level he is deeply down with my harebrain ideas. He might not be the one to announce to the world my 13 readers that he’s gonna teach the cat how to shit in the human toilet, but he’ll get behind it, and all the poop, litter, annoying mess cleaning up that it entails.

So today, when I walked by the bathroom and heard the tinkle of pee going into the toilet, my heart swelled with joy. Almost as much as it did when my boys ditched their diapers and I would hear them wake up, pad past my bed and take a whiz in the toilet.


Pure parental nirvana extends to parents of fur babies, too.

He’s also extremely understanding of my rodeo nights.

What’s a rodeo night? It’s when the night gets away from me and I’m just trying to hold on for dear life which usually ends up in him holding on for dear life, too.


My buddy Chris invited me to a fancy schmancy party that requested glittery, sequiny dress.

You got it, baby.

I went all out and put together a fan-fucking-tastic outfit which I didn’t get a single good picture of. Not one.

I asked Loony to take a prom picture of me and Chris and, wouldn’t you know it, he fucked up every single one.

Are you trying to screw up every picture?

Are you trying to screw up every picture?

I should have asked Scrotus to take the pictures, the would have turned out better.


I was reduced to taking a selfie. I cropped out the toilet so it would be classier.


You can’t see that the whole center panel is sheer, which is bitchin.

And I pressed glitter into my lipstick which is probably made entirely of lead (being the cheap craft store variety) so I’ll get lead poisoning (Lemony, it’s my next neurosis!) and will be my convenient go-to excuse for when I do something stupid.

You can't even tell!

You can’t even tell! All that brain damage for nothing!

Then I posted the above picture onto FB with the caption “Don’t Care” which is a total mystery to me. I have no idea what I was thinking.  But it ended up embedded as a response to the nicest message Lemony posted on my wall which was all I love you! and my response was “Don’t care.” I had to clear things up in the morning.

See? Lead poisoning.


Standing next to the piece Chris bought for a gazillion dollars.

The party on paper sounded like lots of fun but it ended up being kind of boring because apparently the only people who spend that kind of money are eighty years-old.

Naturally I wasn’t going to let that get in my way of a good time and I turned into Party In A Box Viv. Give me a drink and let me go!


Inexplicably there was karaoke which didn’t fit in with the general demographic, but I’m always down to sing.

What I lack in voice I make up for in attitude.



I like to approach karaoke as a competition so I got up there and announced to the stunned room that, “I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to win!” which flew in the face of the host who was talking about how karaoke is a great equalizer, it’s about having a good time, blah blah blaaaaaah.

Fuck that. I was singing, calling out people who weren’t paying enough attention and generally being an asshole. And that was just the beginning.

I was intentionally striking up conversation while Chris sang, just so he'd know how it felt to not be appreciated.

I was intentionally striking up conversation while Chris sang, just so he’d know how it felt to not be appreciated.

There are videos on my phone that I am too scared to even look at. It’s like a cringe party on my phone.


We hit Frasca’s bar afterwards and were barely tolerated by the bartender.

Chris and I tumbled home (I had to walk barefoot because my feet were killing me) and scared off Loony’s Scrabble group as I started talking loudly about how what I really needed was a Foot Vagina. I don’t even want to go into it.

With the patience of a bomb defuser he ushered Chris into the guest room and got me to bed.

The next day I paid. Not from Loony, he didn’t say a word but oh lord, alcohol is poison. The devil. And Moneypenny’s birthday party is tomorrow and we’re going to see The Goonies (aka the last time I got wasted and did embarrassing things) and Nina is bringing Jell-O shots and HEAR ME NOW I will not drink.

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