It's Diego's Sweet Sixteen!

Guess who's birthday it is today?

No, no... mine's tomorrow. *Cough cough*

Today, it's Diego's birthday!!

Slightly Maniacal Diego Doesn't Like Hats

And not any birthday, but his Sweet Sixteen!

I know, right? Who knew cats lived this long? Listen, I'll tell you the secret... Diego's secretly made of magic and donuts. And the forgotten feels of teenage girls. He lives a happy little existence being attached at my hip.

And can I say? As annoying as it can be to have a cat crying pitifully outside the bathroom door, it's actually kinda sweet knowing some little bugger loves you enough to feel sad when you lock him away from you for two minutes.

(He's also learned if he darts really fast, he can come into the bathroom with me before I close the door.)

So, seeing as it's his Sweet Sixteen! Mom and I were joking around a few weeks ago, saying we should throw him a Sweet Sixteen! party. Now, it's universally known that Diego flips for donuts, especially the prepackaged Hostessy type donuts. They are, truly, his favorite thing. I've been bitten multiple times, and nearly lost an eye once to his greedy donut need. So, for his birthday, I wanted to lock him up in the bathroom, and then take a bunch of donuts and hide them all over the house, and the let him out and go crazy! Poor thing would have a heart attack from the smells alone :)

We had a good laugh imagining his joy.

So, we didn't do the Donut Scavenger Hunt Extravaganza! but... I did go to Circle K and get a little thing of mini Hostess, and let him have one. Because I'm uber nice like that.

Just don't tell the vet, okay? Cause she'd get so mad at me...

So, happy birthday, you little beast. You're a good little companion, sweet boy.

Milk: 1%, 2%, Whole, Oh My!

I grew up on fat free milk. Wait, that's not true; let me rephrase that: my family drank fat free milk while I grew up. I drank nothing, because I thought it was disgusting. White water, as my cousin so eloquently phrased it recently. I didn't even like putting it on cereal, I thought it was so gross.

Thankfully, I've seen the light on the cereal issue-- I honestly eat the stuff at least once a day. And I truly believe I could survive off of it. And not the sugar cereal nonsense, either. I'm talking the trinity of breakfast: Grape Nuts. Honey Nut Cheerios. Raisan Bran.

Anyway. Back to milk.

So, it wasn't until Steph got married and switched to the hearty 2% that I truly experienced milk. I didn't even know what to do with myself. It was so thick! It was randomly sweetish! And when I made it into chocolate milk, I. Just. About. Died.

Have you ever made chocolate milk from 2%? Or 1% for that matter? Holy crap, Batman, It's like a milkshake! The utter glory of it's deliciousness truly cannot be put into words. 

It's amazing what some fat can do.

So, instead of coveting normal things, like cars and knowledge and status symbols like normal people, I covet other people's fatty milk.

PJ Bottoms are Ruthless

My mother became a victim last night to that strange phenomenon of getting your big toe stuck in your PJ hem as you're walking and tripping yourself. It's a humiliating, scary experience, yet one most of us have all faced at one point or another. Why must our pajamas betray us like this? I can't imagine where we're going wrong in our relationships when our pants suddenly try kill us like this. It's like one day, they just snap.

"I'm tired of being washed on permanent press! I WANT GENTLE CYCLE"

"You're supposed to wash WITH LIKE COLORS ONLY, DARNNNN YOUUUU"

And they decide to murder you in cold water. I mean, blood.

So, moral of the story, child? Watch out for those sinister pajama pants. And do yourself a favor, and opt for the shorts instead.

Disney Days

So, this is the second time this week that I've heard "Let It Go" on the radio. Yes, the radio.

Now, maybe it's just me, but I thought we'd come to an agreement as an over-8-years-old society that if we heard that song one more time, we'd simultaneously explode and go on a face-punching spree.

Radio station, I honestly could not care less if you're doing "Disney Days" or whatever. TURN THE SONG OFF.

It gets stuck in your head for daaaaaaays. I mean, I knew the words BEFORE I'd even seen the movie. I know the words SPANISH, okay?! There was a little girl listening to it over and over and over and overrrrrr (At least seven times on repeat, I kid you not), while I was getting a pedicure with my mother. So, yes, in Spanish, too.

I'm a fan of the movie. I am not, however, a fan of the song. It's a total hissyfit. Elsa's whole existence is one big hissyfit. But that's another story.

If I'm not listening to Radio Disney, I don't think I should have to be subjected to that song. And I don't think that's unresonable at all, now, do you?

If you're going to play a Disney song, go for Hakuna Matata. Trust me, you'll get a lot better response.