Weird Stuff I Did When I Was A Kid: Part 2, Tuddie

One Christmas, when I was probably seven or eight years old (maybe younger) we got a kitten. Her name was Tuddie; she was all black with the exception of a little white star on her chest just below her neck. She got her name for her attitude, which she had A LOT of from a young age.

Now, I am not sure how long we had her when I decided to do this, and although I still find it really funny that I would do something like this to an innocent cat, I feel really bad about it. Keep in mind that I was a little kid!

So we were living near “Big City Land” and Amanda and I shared a room upstairs in the apartment. It was night time and I believe my Grandma Mary was there visiting, but I am not entirely sure. Anyway, I had decided that Tuddie had done something that I didn’t approve of or maybe I was just sick of all of her attitude. Either way, I wanted to teach her a lesson by pouring this tub of water on her. This wasn’t just normal water though. For some reason I had decided to put the following in it so that the message would sink in:

·         Lotion

·         Crayons

·         Perfume

·         Some other stuff I can’t remember

Amanda and I had two elephants that were larger than the kitten Tuddie, they looked exactly the same in every way, but for some reason Tuddie always, always, always went to Amanda’s elephant instead of mine. I used Amanda’s elephant as bait. I laid down a towel and placed the elephant upon it. I then convinced Amanda to join me in my evil plot because I couldn’t lift the tub of water by myself.

Phase one of the plan was complete.

Amanda and I then hunted for Tuddie until we found her; my parents did not question why we wanted her, we always wanted to play with her. We then took her up to our room.

Phase two: Complete, we had her in the room.

Amanda and I quickly turned off all the lights in our room, with the exception of the lamp which we had placed near the elephant. Tuddie cautiously wondered over to the elephant. As soon as she was on the towel with the elephant Amanda and I lifted the tub of water and dumped it on the poor unsuspecting Tuddie, she freaked out and so did Amanda because we spilled most of the water onto her toy (the stuffed animal elephant).

Mission complete.

Tuddie had run over to the door, shaking with fear and I imagine hatred for whatever had gotten her all wet. We knew we had to dry her off before we let her out of the room, but the only towel we had was used to dry off the elephant and to catch the water that we had poured onto it and the kitten. At first we tried to dry her off by letting her sit under the lamp on the floor, but it soon became clear we needed more towels. Amanda and I then faced another problem: how on earth were we going to get the towels to dry her off from the bathroom downstairs? All the adults were in the living room.

I decided that they wouldn’t be too angry if Amanda was the one getting the towels (she always was able to do stuff like that since she was the youngest) so while I distracted the adults, Amanda was assigned the secret mission of gathering enough towels to dry Tuddie off, but not so many that they would notice that we had raided the bathroom. After I saw that Amanda had succeeded in retrieving the towels I ran upstairs. We dried her in the precious few minutes that we had left, we knew that it was getting late and Tuddie had been missing for too long; my mom had asked me if I had seen her.

As soon as we had dried her off enough and hid the wet towels, my mom came upstairs and opened the door; releasing the still-damp kitten. She gave us a puzzled look as if to say “She was in here the whole time?” and then told us to come downstairs to say goodnight and that it was bedtime.

Later that night Amanda and I fought over the fact that her elephant still smelled like that disgusting water we had poured on Tuddie. And for years afterward, her elephant kept the smell, reminding of us how mean I was for plotting such a mean thing and how bad it was of Amanda to help me. But we always laugh about it because for some reason Tuddie ended up liking water.

Yes, I was a mean child, but I don’t know why. I would NEVER do that sort of thing now. Also, if you think about it, pouring water onto a cat really isn't that mean. I didn't beat her or anything cruel, I just felt like pouring water on her.

Also, Happy Valentine's Day everyone! Sorry about this post, it is a little weird. I normally don't like V-day, but I don't know, I don't care much today.

Ta ta for now!

My Cat is a Jerk, but I Love Him

I always thought of my Uncle Angus as someone who would have created Veggie Tales. He just seems like the kind of guy who would spend time thinking of things like that: singing vegetables. Not that it is a bad thing; I just always assumed that he would have loved to play a part in the making of it in some way. Maybe he did and we just don’t know it? Wouldn’t that be a story to tell?

I want to do something on a regular basis and blogging is fun for me, it has been for a long time.

Anyway, onto something a little bit more interesting than a blog talking about how I like to blog. I ran into my friends Hazel and Leigh, it was great to see them again, and they are planning Valentine celebrations. I am very anti-Valentine’s Day. It started long ago which I was going to a school in Three-Cities-Clumped-Together Land, but I don’t really want to get into that now.

Hmm, what to talk about? Oh. I looked at my credit card bill. I almost died of a heart attack and then last night I was fighting off panic attacks, it was great fun. My cat, Clint, kept looking at me like “Why do you look all pale? What is wrong? Why don’t you want to pet me?” He thinks he is the most perfect thing in the world and I should realize this by giving him all of my attention, but only when HE wants it. Lately, he has taken to attacking my legs. I call his method “Peek-a-Boo” because he hides under the bed, looks once Ah yes; she is sitting right in the middle of the bed. Then he checks a second time Target has not moved, I repeat: Target has not moved. He then shoots out, jumps up, digs his claws into my flesh, rips, and then sprints back under the bed. I think he hopes every time he does this I will not realize where he has gone and in his hope he thinks that he will not be scolded for being an asshole. He is mistaken. Every time.

And every time he does this I am left to wonder why in the hell I decided to get him. And every time afterward he becomes all nice and cuddly and sweet. Then I feel bad for having thoughts of poisoning his food or something like that and then I pet him and then, being as he is an asshole, he again claws the shit out of my leg. Damn cat. But I love him.

I posted this one mainly because I have no idea what to talk about today. Of course, right after I post this I will get an idea and it will be funny and I will have to write it down and yeah. Maybe I will talk about things I ACTUALLY did last night since this was written a little while ago and I was too lazy to make a new one. It actually happened about a week ago. Yup.

Ta ta for now!

A Quick Rant

I assume that everyone has met someone that they would like to never see or hear from again. If this person were to decide, “Hey, I am going to move away and not talk to any of our mutual friends,” there would be absolutely no feelings lost in this; in fact, there would be mass amounts of joy. I have one of these people.

Now, I don’t want to say her name and I don’t wish to make up some name for her because I know it would be something immature and cruel; so we just won’t call her anything. She will be just that: she. If this person were to just move out of the state I live in and delete her facebook friends that she and I have in common and her other social-network profiles that we both use, I would be happy. If I never had to see her comments and hear her voice and see her walking around the places I like to go to. I would be happy. There would be absolutely no feeling of loss. Actually, I would throw a party from the sheer amounts of joy I would experiencing because she would no longer be in my life in any way, shape, or form.

I know what some of you may be thinking, “Why don’t you just delete your profiles, move away and stop going where you are bound to run into her?” Well the answer is simple: she is a bitch and I don’t want to do those things, she should have to (completely unfair, I know).

That is my rant for today, have a good rest of the day. I would say that I am sorry for disliking this person so much, but I am not. Also, I could have made a lot worse comments about this person and used her name, but I didn’t. I don’t feel the need to explain myself anymore.

Ta ta for now!

P.S. To anyone who thinks they know who I am talking about: Don’t be an immature prick and tell some random person that you think I made a blog about them because you are more than likely incorrect on who I am talking about =) I could have very easily been talking about a man and decided that I wanted to hide who I was talking about even further by switching their gender! See you ;)

My Family Is Strange, But In A Good Way

My mom, as many of my friends know, is possibly the most amazing mom there is. She makes jokes, does weird dances, she accepts everything about you, and she does some really weird things.

One of my favorites is the time Amanda and I were sitting in our room in Three-Cities-Clumped-Together Land, minding our business when my mom decides that she needs to come in and disturb the peace. Amanda and I, unsuspecting victims of our mother’s humor, were always surprised at what she threw at us next, but we always loved it. We heard our mom before she entered the room, she started singing an odd chant and hopping up and down until she hopped into the room. Then we saw her and that image alone sent us into a fit of laughter; wearing only her underwear and a tank top. That wasn’t the funny part, she always wore that, it was the fact that she had given herself a giant wedgie and had her arms flapping around in front of her while she chanted and hopped around our room one time and then hopper back out into the living room to go finish watching her TV show.

It was pretty hilarious when we asked her why she did it later; she had been watching a documentary on African tribes and their ritual dances and decided that she wanted to show us how it was done (her arms were supposed to be the women’s breasts since she didn’t want to go topless in front of us, thank God) so she came into our room like that. Although, I am not sure what having her underwear wedged up had to do with any of it, but it was funny nonetheless.

Weird Stuff I Did When I Was A Kid: Part 1, The Beehive

I did lots of strange things as a child, but this is one of my favorites.

I don’t remember how old I was, but I must have been pre-preteen at the oldest because we were still living in our first house by Alicia in “Someplace Town." Anyway, the age isn’t really important. Alicia (she was our neighbor), Amanda, and I loved to play in our backyard for several reasons. First of all, Alicia’s backyard did not have grass that was three feet tall. Secondly, mine and Amanda’s backyard had lots of fallen branches with which we would build odd forts instead of just using the one that came with the house.

One day the three of us had decided that the boys down the street were our enemies. And they needed to be punished. You may be thinking, what kind of crimes did these boys commit? I am not sure, I wasn’t sure then either, but it sounded like a good idea. For the next few hours we gathered large tree branches and leaned them up against one of the plum trees in our backyard. After the basic structure was finished, we started to rip up the grass in the lawn and throw it on what we were referring to as “The Beehive.”

When we were finally finished with construction we decided that the best way to give the punishment would be to beat the boys with some of the extra tree branches we had found. We waited inside The Beehive. Eventually Amanda and I sent Alicia out to try to fool the boys into coming into it, by pretending that she would give him a kiss. After about ten minutes she came back in and said “They are not home today, I didn’t see them playing outside.” They always played outside.

After waiting for another five minutes we abandoned our plots against the innocent boys and got down to the serious business of trying to disguise what we had done to our back yard. At least a third of the grass was no longer three feet high. We decided the best way to do this was to roll around on the rest of the grass until it lay flat and take all of the ripped up grass off The Beehive and scatter it across the part of the lawn that we had destroyed. We kept the frame of The Beehive up, just in case those little tormentors (the boys) decided to come out to play the next day.

I never realized how strange we were until I started talking to someone about the weird things I used to do with Amanda and Alicia, but I am happy we were strange children.

And that was my very boring first blog. Woooooo. Caitlin is not a story-teller.