Category Archives: Chester

Well, that’s annoying

Our cable system decided to do its “Weekly Required Test” (whatever the hell THAT is) right in the middle of Vanity Fair. How am I supposed to pay attention to Reese Witherspoon’s humungous pregnant belly if I keep getting interrrupted? I’m so annoyed, plus the test startled the crap out of the cat who has enough problems already without adding Having A Stroke to them.

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I didn’t do a Friday Random thing last week due to my bone-deep laziness. So I’ll do it today and we’ll start the week of right!

1. We are STILL waiting to hear about this house that we have been trying to buy. We are STILL in attorney review. I’m starting to get tired of waiting. We have continued to look at houses, but haven’t found anything that we like, except for one, but they are considering “multiple offers” right now, so we aren’t even going to bother throwing our hat into the ring. It’s a shame, too, because that house was really cute.

2. Except for the basement. First, you have to go down Danger Steps to get to the basement. At the third-to-last step, you need to bend over at the waist to avoid smashing your face on the support beam. Then, if you are any taller than I am, you have to stoop to walk around down there because the ceiling is so low. I can just barely walk upright and I’m only 5’7″! This confuses me SO MUCH that I cannot sleep for wondering WHY someone would build a house with a basement that you can barely access and use. WHY? That makes NO SENSE.

3. The other house that I really liked but definitely will not offer to buy was built in 1870 and has ghosts. I know this because when we went to look at it, the hair on the back of my neck stood up and my ears started ringing [more], which is always a sure sign that I’m not alone. The house itself was actually pretty awesome. Lots and lots of rooms connected willy-nilly by bathrooms and closets. It would be a great house for a bunch of kids. Alas, it would need some very serious updating and love (read: money) to make it truly comfortable. I don’t know that I’d ever be comfortable there, though, considering the fact that I passed by the attic door and realized there was no way in heaven or hell that I would ever, of my own volition, open that door. Nuh-uh.

4. I’ve been putting off washing the car, thinking that surely it will rain soon. Of course, as soon as I can’t stand it any longer and decide that today is the day I will get the car washed, there is rain in the forecast.

5. Jillian threw an entire bowl of peas at me today. It got on me, the fridge, the wall, and the ceiling. So much for letting her feed herself, eh? I am trying to phase out the pureed food in favor of actual pieces of food, but she does the whole gagging Drama Queen act. On the one hand, I don’t want her to starve, but on the other hand, if she gets hungry enough, she’ll eat. I don’t know where on that spectrum I actually am, though.

6. Football season has started, and the Jets are already disappointing me. Nothing unusual there. I just hope they don’t have to get the Reanimated Corpse of Vinny Testaverde again. Actually, I think Vinny is or was under contract to another team last year? I don’t know and am too lazy to look it up. At least the Mets are still in first place.

7. I’m amused to report that the cat is still stupider than the baby gates. This animal can launch himself from the floor to my bed or up through the kitchen pass-thru window, but cannot seem to figure out how to get over the baby gate. He is a stupid, stupid cat. In fact, he fell off the windowsill this morning before I got up, which caused the blinds to click and clack all over themselves and caused me to curse at him and them under my breath. Chester is deeply stupid.

8. The fall TV season is starting up and I have no idea when any of my shows are on. Good thing we have the TiFaux set to record most of them. Too bad I don’t foresee any actual time in which to watch them, what with us about to be homeless and all. We have a maximum of six weeks left in this house, no matter what. This is shaping up to be an interesting autumn.

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Warning! Blog cliche ahead!


I am the owner of what might possibly be the stupidest cat ever to lick his own butt.

See, now that Jillian is mobile (and FAST), we put up a baby gate to the kitchen because I’m lazy and didn’t feel like child-proofing 14 drawers and cabinets, plus the oven, plus the fridge, plus the cat food. Baby gates are a quick and easy way to keep the kid out of there altogether, so hooray.

The gate itself is not that high. It’s not even three feet, so I can go over it fairly easily to get into and out of the kitchen. We figured the cat would be able to jump over it as well, since he can jump onto our very high bed.

We have overestimated our cat.

Between our dining area and our kitchen, there is a pass-thru window. This is very handy for dinner, since I can hand things through the window rather than walk around the corner with something that might spill. It’s counter-height, which means it’s what, 42 inches or so? Pretty high for a fat cat.


When Jillian is awake, I have the gate in place to deter her explorations. When she naps, I usually take it out so I don’t die hoisting my fat ass over it every time I go into the kitchen. Today, however, I have not taken the baby gate down yet. As I was sitting here, checking my email, Chester came downstairs for his breakfast.

He’s afraid of the baby so he only eats when he feels it’s safe.

He sat at my feet for a bit and meowed at me in the way that he has when something is wrong in his world (which is pretty much all the time). I told him “there’s food in your dish, go eat” thinking that he’d hop over the baby gate.

He went through the pass-through window. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw 21 pounds of grey and black flab launch itself up to the countertop and through the window to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, he came back out the same way.

My cat. He’s a nut.


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For sale: one mentally deficient cat

Our cat, Chester, is a total nut. We have had him in our home for nearly six years and he still acts like he just got out of the pound. We originally rescued him from the pound, so we don’t know anything about his history, and at first, we totally expected him to act crazy and afraid.

Six years later and he still acts exactly the same way as he did the first week we had him. This cat is totally mental. He’s afraid of EVERYTHING: air, the sound of his food hitting the bowl, wind, air, me, Freddie, Jillian, the TV, air, you name it. The cat is insane.


Our home is not decorated in what you’d call a “style.” We only just got past the post-college-desperation look, where all the furniture was inherited and nothing went with anything. Now we have some things that look nice together and the place looks a little less like a dorm.

Next to our couch, we have a small glass-topped table that we acquired somewhere. I can’t remember who gave it to us, but it’s ugly as hell. It serves its purpose, though, and lives between the couch and the chair so I have someplace to put my candy dish. Next to this table is the floor lamp, which I actually like.

Well, until now. Now I hate the lamp almost as much as I hate that ugly-ass table. I hate the lamp because it tried to kill my kid today.

See, Chester was checking out the baby toys down in the living room while Jillian and I were practicing going up and down the step that separates the living room and dining room. Something happened to scare the cat (he probably got a glimpse of his own tail and was all “OH SHIT! WHAT’S THAT?”) and his fat self tried to dart between the couch and chair to escape.

His plan was foiled when his fat self got entangled in the scrolly-like legs of the table, causing it to fall over, causing the HEAVY GLASS TOP of it to fall off and crash into the lamp, which then fell over, nearly crushing the baby.

It’s a good thing I’m SuperMom because I scooped Jillian up and out of harm’s way.

Can’t say the same for the lamp, however. The faux-stained-glass shade on the lamp got mushed as it hit the carpet and the post on which the lampshade sat was pulled out of its moorings, thus stripping the bolt that secured it.

I’m sure with a little Gorilla Glue and time I could hillbilly-engineer it back, but the shade is messed up and I just don’t want to look at it. SIGH.

I called Freddie at work to see if he would authorize the purchase of a new lamp and if I should get a matching one to replace the table lamp, too, but he’s busy today and not picking up the phone. We always discuss purchases like this, but I might just make an executive decision if he doesn’t call me back before we go out.

So I’m all jittery now, due to the near-crushing of the baby (the lamp wouldn’t have crushed her – it would have probably hit her shoulder and pissed her off but STILL), the cat is upstairs hiding under the bed shedding like a yak because he’s all freaked out, and Jillian is napping peacefully.

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My other kid

We have another baby in our house.  He’s around 20 pounds, just like Jillian, but unlike Jillian, he never does much besides eat, sleep, and scream.  I mean, meow.  His name is Chester and he is my mentally deficient cat.

Chester has always been weird.  We adopted him in 2001 from the local shelter, where he’d been staying for about a week.  It was loud and uncomfortable in there, and when we went to look at the kitties, he was cowering in the back of his cage, all sad-looking.
We took him home with us and let him out of his cage.  He immediately ran to hide under our bed and there he stayed for the next three days.  Eventually, he got hungry and came out to eat something, but for the most part, he chilled under the bed all the time.
At night, once the lights were out and we were settled down for the night, Chester would appear and crawl around on the bed with us.  He liked to try to sleep on my head, and after a few nights of me shoving him back onto the floor, we got into a comfortable pattern of him sleeping up against my stomach or my back, depending on which way I was facing.
He’s never been a normal cat, but he’s ours.  Lately, I’ve been feeling a little guilty since he’s no longer #1 baby.  He got kicked down to second place by the slobbering hairless creature who rolls around on the floor that was once his and his alone.  Chester needs to be brushed but he won’t let me do it.   He also need to lose some weight, but I only feed him a half-cup of food every morning, so it’s not like he’s eating too much – he’s just a lazy fat-ass.
To attempt to get him moving, I found his favorite catnip toy today and loaded it up with a fresh dose of Kitty Pot.  He spent about fifteen minutes batting the toy around and now he’s sitting on the toy, inhaling its scent.  He’s acting all stoned now and I fully expect him to waddle into the kitchen to cure his munchies.

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