xifeng: (Default)
So I went to buy some workplace-appropriate flats, since lolmom is tired of my snaffling hers (apparently I "stretch them out" or something) and even though I can wear jeans to work, I can't wear sneakers. Thus, my excursion to Shoe Carnival.

I should mention here that, while I like shoes, I hate shopping for shoes. There are a multitude of reasons for this.

I am totally going to cut my feet off )

And then I went to the grocery store and spent $21 on fish yay. I should really have bought the frozen grouper, both cost-wise and because I could have gotten more, but I WANTED FRESH. Also, tried and failed to find tea for lolmom (Lol-Mart is all out of Twinings' English Breakfast, and so is Schnucks).

In other news, and to appease the many of you who only read my journal to learn how the kit is doing:

Oliver found his favorite ball (it looks like a crumpled-up piece of foil, and I had to remind lolmom not to throw it away) under the china cabinet. He has been playing happily with it all evening, until he got a little overzealous in one corner of the dining room and knocked the phone off the side table, which triggered a frantic run into the living room at top speed. Also, his default mode is "I'm so cute! Rub my tummy!", which is adorable most of the time but doesn't work so well for those special times when I'm trying to take food into the house. He just had his shots, and now he shouldn't need to see the vet for a year, unless he concusses himself knocking things over.

My moral dilemma persists at a medium pace. This won't resolve it, but it would probably be an antisocial act for me to give J an ulcer by not writing, so I'd better get on that.

l33 out.
xifeng: (Default)
Callice has been zitching and gribbing all day because we had BLTs for lunch and unaccountably failed to drop some bacon for her OR put down the grease pan so she could lick it out, and THEN I had cream cheese on a bagel which I also failed to drop. This is cruel of me. It is also cruel of me to persist in feeding her kibble, even though she is BORED with kibble and DOES NOT WANT kibble and WHY do I not give her wet pet food or kitty treats like I did before we left for Florida in May. (Because morally speaking it's the equivalent of letting her eat three bowls of Fruity Pebbles in front of the TV, is why not.) She then typically settles down and scarfs up her kibble; at her sole discretion, it may or may not wind up on the living room floor later.

(I seem to have gotten it into my head that my next cat should be a Himalayan, but Callice really needs to be an only pet, or else I'll come home to find this entire part of Indiana submerged in cat pee. And when she does go, I'll probably wait until she's been gone a decent time before getting another cat. But there will, eventually, be a next cat; I've always had one, and I'd like to continue to have one.)

Now that I make enough money, I should really let a professional deal with the ol' toenails. They'd probably look better. Also, at the risk of TMIing anyone, my two smallest toes on each foot are congenitally deformed, which does not make it easy to cut the nails on those feet. You know, I really can't get inside the brains of people with foot fetishes, because my feet are incredibly ugly and I imagine most people's are too. Feet aren't about aesthetics.

For some reason, I seem to do my best RPG planning in IHOP at about one in the morning. I'm not sure why this is. At any rate, I've got the bare bones of the projected samurai game hashed out, and a couple of revisions I'd like to make to TI when it comes back (nobody hold their breath on that one; it will return, but I couldn't tell you when). Now, of course, I just require motivation to sit down and work on said game, and also constant reminding that I am not writing a doctoral dissertation and can do a respectable job on this with a handful of sources, even if I'm the only person not satisfied with it.

Also, I should stop frying my brains with Mister Kitty's Stupid Comics page.
xifeng: (oh noes!!!!1111oneone!!!)
Okay, so remember how I fell in the shower last week and I banged up my right side from the thigh down?

My right foot has a huge bruise along the side, and it's horrendously bloated. (The bruise has faded from what it was, though.) I'm talking it-hurts-like-fuck-to-put-my-shoes-on bloated. The difference between it and my left foot is obvious even to an idiot. I don't really have a lot of bloating problems in the summer, except during Happy Fun Week every month, but this is bizarre.

Seriously, I'm about ready to lance my foot if it'll drain the excess whatever. I don't even know what causes the bloat, all I know is that I want it to, like, not be in my foot anymore.

Apropos of nothing, the current music was Our Song when Jared and I were dating. In case, like, [livejournal.com profile] zyphryus wanted to relive the Speeshul Memowies in case she sees this from England.

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Wang Xi-feng

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