An open thread for everyone sick of talking about the orange monster and/or other crappy news stuff. No trolls, MRAs, etc. Yes kitty pics, capybara pics, ponies, stuff you’re reading or watching, etc.
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Time Out For Kitties: Non-Election Fun Stuff Open Thread
They also love crinkles. Paper is nice and crinkley.
Dog likes to sleep with her body somewhere reasonable and her head somewhere unreasonable (or occasionally impossible).
For example: body on her cushion (which is a few inches thick), head down on the floor (this is the least odd combo she favours). Body curled up under my desk, head on top of angular piles of books/discarded shoes/assorted junk. Body on floor, head on the step of the front door. Body on floor, head at ridiculous angle jammed right up against the wall.
Nobody suggests this to her, she just does it. Dog is weird.
My cats have a rule: they must sit on a Pareto-optimal surface.
Their dignity cannot accept sitting on a surface that has an object upon it.
They don’t need to be on the tallest object, or the biggest stack. They just can’t be on something that also has something stacked upon it.
It is forbidden.
Fingie needs gingerbread SO BAD right now.
Taz used to have a simple rule for places to sit: whichever place the humans want is where she will sit. This includes on newspapers, inside board game boxes, and on keyboards. She got very good at predicting human activities in order to be in the right place ahead of time.
Oy, the life of a consultant.
I had a super-productive day at work. Then at 6pm, as I was just wrapping up, I got the call that the project was on hold indefinitely and I should go home.
Sad but not too bad, given I was way overbooked anyway.
Really I’m much more worried about the flock of young artists who just started on the project in the past month or two, some of whom moved from far away. And about my sub-contractor (effectively I’m her agent) who was about to start a 3-month gig there, but I’m sure we’ll find things for her as well.
Jeselin, my father had couvade syndrome every pregnancy (seven). I asked my mother how *she* had done; according to her, it was always easy, never morning sickness, and she wound up weighing a bit less after each child. “If I had had to go through what some of my friends did, I’d have stopped at two.” As number six or seven, that was disturbing.
I’ve never had to concern myself with birth control, but the idea of an injectable for men strikes me as a brilliant idea. Is it possible that some men are distressed by the idea that their Liquid Fucking Gold wouldn’t be capable of making a babby?