White Trash Witches & Their Fat Cats, Next on Springer

Arrgh.

Well, after only limited blood loss on the part of yours truly, the cats were packed up and off to the vet on Saturday.

The Kitten and the Middle Kitty are in excellent health. The vet thinks the MK's extreme beautifulness may be due to his daddy being a Maine coon cat, and judging by the ridiculously cute Maine coon kittens who look almost exactly like he did as a wee slip of a kitten, they may be right. Me, I think it's due to his peoplefather, and the fact that he's sufficiently brash to be, as of this writing, trying to steal and eat the flowers I brought home for Ganesh for the fourth or fifth time. The cat, not the Artist -- but it takes a special sort of grokking to know that the flowers on the altar are special...he never tries to eat flowers otherwise.

The Elder Kitty is morbidly obese, and that's what's causing the butt issues. She's always been fat, so I didn't notice when she got too fat, and now I feel like the mom of one of those 700-pound people on Springer where they have to use heavy earth moving equipment to get them out of bed. I feel like the worst kittymom ever. Of course, the penance of having to wipe kittybutt with unscented baby wipes is more than penance enough, and the doctor says as long as I take away the drop feeder (which is not going to go over well) pt her on the Fatty Fatty Two By Four Times As Expensive cat food, she'll be fine.

The doctor was somewhat confused by the Suffusion of Jellos, but he seems like a nice guy, and Jai Ma my mother for picking up the tab (over $200) without a word.

Other than the strangely ET-like, nursing-home feel around here since we all got back from the vet (and Jai Ma Sauce, for the comforting words about the Worst Kittymom In The World situation), all's quiet on the redneck front.

Daughters of Kali was fun tonight -- got an invite to a fire puja on Solstice (Tuesday),which I may or may not attend, and sang the Devi hymn I liked so much last week, as well as actually getting to participate in the opening puja, which Leela usually does before class starts. Then I went over to CDHSarah's, where we have been watching Kingdom Hospital, the Stephen King miniseries. It's pretty damn good, both as a piece of SK-universana, and as a series. She got a new car, too, which is pretty swanky (well, it's a new old car, but it's nicer than the ParceVoiture to be sure. I get her back by gasping at inopportune moments because, unlike her, I've read just about everything the man's ever done, including all of the Dark Tower books, and so am catching some very nice little subconscious-yet-meta references that "tell" a little more of the story than what people who don't have SK-timeline/space concordances in their heads.

It's a little creepy, the relationship I have with Heinlein and King. Of course, I don't have a personal relationship with either one of them, since one of them died before I was much more than a lump of protoplasm with potential, and the other, I'm sure, has more than enough mystical types who want to see the world through his microcosm writing him missives. But in terms of their respective bodies of work, we're practically intimate.

Here's an example. On FARK.com recently, there was a story about a crazy woman who is suing Stephen King, claiming both Annie Wilkes and Eleanor Druse to be based on her (which, if you know either of those stories, is both ridiculous and self-contradictory). A discussion thread made up mostly of of Stephen King fanciers quickly built up, mostly centered around comments like "I'm Roland Deschain, where's my money?", and getting more and more obscure and fanwanking as they went along.

In about 300 posts, I recognized every reference. I know why I should be afraid of: clowns, chattery teeth, red fungus, fingers, Room 1408, anyone wearing a cheap yellow coat, little bald doctors, the desert, sand in general, people who give me weird job offers, people who tell me they know a failproof way to quit smoking, people who don't smoke, Crouch End in London, trains, the fair, people with expensive cars and the best cocaine and baseball cards, Polaroid cameras, early 20th century lesbians with building fetishes, hotels with topiary, and the sewer, not to mention the military, anything even resembling an early burial site, and, of course, the entire city of New York and state of Maine. (Anyone else who can correctly identify all those specific stories will get a cookie and an all-expense paid trip to todash space.)

Eh. Maybe I'll get a senior project out of it when I finish my B.A. . For now, I have to go play nursemaid to a remarkably uncooperative cat...the Exalted and Revered Nephew is at my parent's place, so I'm going to hang out with him all day tomorrow.