Crucial, life affecting decisions

I am strangely at peace today. Though I was not thrilled with either candidate, I am glad it is decided. It was very exciting and hard not to get caught up in the historic aspect of the victory. And I have decided to adopt Shepard's philosophy of life which he learned in preschool--You get what you get and you don't throw a fit! So life is good and it's time to move on to more important decisions like my cell phone ringer.

I love personalized ringers. It is my greatest joy of cell phone ownership--to decide what ringer I would like for each of my family members and friends. I recently got a cool new phone and have to start from scratch with my ringers. I have already downloaded Alan's ringer--it's always been 'Sexual Healing' by Marvin Gaye. It's perfect for him but has caused some uncomfortable moments like when I was standing with the car mechanic and Alan called. I couldn't get to the phone fast enough and it kept singing "When I get that feeling, I want sexual healing..." The guy glared at me with a creepy smile and I could just read his thoughts, "Heh heh, you ain't a virgin, is ya?"

What I am stressing over now is what I am going to download as my all-purpose ringer. My most recent one was the theme song from "Halloween." But now that Halloween is over I am going to use that ringer for work. The two ringers I am considering are "Stronger" by Kanye West or "So What" by Pink. What do you think?

So after I make this most momentous decision I will move on to individuals--my mom, dad, and two sisters (they will be called JaJa and JuJu.) For my mom I was thinking 'Tara's theme' from Gone with the Wind 'cause she's a strong little southern belle. My dad will definitely have to be 'The Imperial March' from Star Wars.

I have two older sisters and they are more problematic. I used to have the theme from 'Cops' for my oldest sister JaJa because she is the grand dame of the Jerry Springer faction of my family. She has three daughters and, when they all lived together, they were very fond of calling the police on each other. When my middle sister JuJu heard my ringer for JaJa she thought it was hysterical. Good thing she didn't know that my ringer for her was 'Crazy Train.'

Decisions, decisions...I'll think about it tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.

I fear change

Election Day. It's finally arrived and I am so relieved. When I woke up it was raining hard. I think God is crying. But I am trying to look on the bright side--the campaign is over. I am glad that at the end of the day we will finally know our fate. It's the not knowing that makes my stomach churn.

I took the boys with me and voted. I said to Sage, "Wasn't that exciting?" and he said, "No, it was kind of boring." I had no trouble voting--no long lines or riots in the street--yet. The worst part is that, like an idiot, I scheduled myself to work this evening. I called and told them I couldn't come in bcause I would be busy burying my guns in the backyard. They didn't buy it. I don't want to go to work, I would much rather sit in front of the TV all evening torturing myself.

Whoever wins I am not going to be happy. I don't like change, any kind of change. I like my life the way it is and I don't want either guy skulking around and telling me how much I have to sacrifice. However I did find this little clip. Wow, that sounds pretty good to me too. Can't wait!

***Hey Joe Biden, stop calling my house! The campaign is over, you freaking psycho!

Stream of Consciousness Monday

I woke up this morning in the middle of a dream about trick or treating geese. I don't remember what their costumes were. Dammit! All the pumpkin muffins are gone. I spent all day Thursday baking for 2 Halloween parties, one Fall festival and one Pumpkin festival. I do not really enjoy cooking but I do like to bake. I was about to make cupcakes for Shepard's preschool party when I read an email from the another child's mother. She said, "I just finished making cupcakes for the party tomorrow!" Whore! I told her I was making the cupcakes! Now I had to think of another snack to send in. I sent in string cheese cut to look like a finger with a grape on the end for a fingernail. The teacher loved it. Take that cupcake whore!

Yay, I just discovered that my love for Joe Jonas is not a forbidden love. He's 19! Why is my body rejecting alcohol as I get older? You would think it would be used to it by now. Had a slight hangover on Saturday from the neighborhood Halloween party Friday night. Sage was a faceless phantom and Shepard a ninja. The kids fell asleep in our bed that night and we were too tired and buzzed to move them. I had to move them back to their room at 4:30 am because Shepard kept head butting me in his sleep. Then we had to be up early for Shepard's 8:30 am soccer game. One of the coaches kids puked on the sideline. Guess he had a rough night too. Shepard scored three goals. He seems to be really into soccer. Sage never was. He would gallop around the field like a horse or bark at the other team. He didn't really score goals but the coach always complimented him on his intimidation tactics.

I think I am a sexual psychic. Last night I had a stomachache so I told Alan it was no go. But in the middle of the night, I woke up feeling quite...um, interested. However, we have to get up so early that I didn't want to wake Alan. So I just lay there thinking those thoughts you think when all of a sudden Alan was semi-conscious and one thing led to another and--Wow! So this morning Alan said, "Did we do something last night?" And I giggled and said, "Yeah, we did!" And he giggled and I giggled again. And later I realized "I woke him up with only the power of my dirty mind. I'm like a superhero!" Giggle.

We will have years of enjoyment from Alan's Halloween costume. I am making a list of all the family members that I want to punk.

And what do you think of me? Have you ever seen a sexier Halloween costume? I am so a'peel'ing.

Happy Monday!

You don't know Jack!

We had the family pumpkin carving festivities last night. Our first pumpkin started out as an alien, then transformed into a devil then ended up as a bull. So he is a E.T. Devil Bull with tongue hanging out. That stuff on top is his brains.

The second pumpkin was Sage's idea and Alan helped him realize his evil vision. Those guys are truly disturbing. I love it!!

Happy Halloween!

Here's a present for my friend Zibbs over at That Blue Yak. Here's a treat for you that I found online--A Halloween moon.

Tales from the Mini Van

I have never admitted this publicly but I am now the owner of a mini van. It happened this summer. I am a bit embarrassed by it since I have always been a bit anti mini van. But I couldn't take the Oldsmobile station wagon anymore. Our driveway looked like that drunk Exxon Valdez captain had been hanging out there and I needed a new ride. So we went car shopping which I rank up there with bathing suit or bra shopping. Hate it!!! I didn't go looking for a mini van but she somehow found me. And when I sat in her...oh, it was magic. The mini van, she seduced me--her comfortable seats, her multiple drink holders, her 6 CD changer, her automated doors, her tinted windows, and stow and go seating--I was in love. And I have never looked back.

The car is an interesting place for a parent. Mostly it is a giant torture chamber. Forget water boarding, just try putting a terrorist in a car with my 2 boys. Here's how it would go--the terrorist, let's call him Bob, is driving along, practicing safe defensive driving when all of a sudden he hears a scream from Shepard. Sage just took his toy. Bob yells at Sage to give the toy back and Sage is saying, "Huh? I can't hear you. Shepard is screaming." So the screaming continues until Bob threatens to "Pull this car over!" Bob never thought he would say that in his life, but he was wrong. Then Sage starts to whine that Shepard is not sharing the snack. The whining continues until he yanks the snack from Shepard's hand and Shepard begins to cry again. Then Sage asks to go to the library. Bob says no because we have to go to the bank. Both kids whine because they don't want to go to the bank. Bob arrives at the bank drive thru and is in line when he hears a sneeze. He looks back in the rear view mirror to see two snot stalactites hanging from Sage's nose AND he does not have a tissue. He finds a piece of paper under the seat and hands it back to Sage who has already used his sleeve anyway. He leaves the bank and turns up the radio to hear the news when both boys ask to hear the Miley Cyrus CD. He says no and the loud protests and shouting start "Why can't we hear Miley, Terrorist Bob?! Why do you hate Miley?! I want to hear some music!!!" They are so loud that he misses the news and so he gives in and puts on Miley. So here is Bob--stuck in traffic, listening to Miley Cyrus when from the back he hears "I have to pee right now!!" Terrorist Bob will break, I guarantee it.

However, there are some quiet moments in the car. I have discovered that it can be a great environment to talk to your kids about life issues. For some reason they tend to open up more in the car. It may have something to do with the fact that I am not looking directly at them trying to invade their brains with my mother vision. I guess the back of my head is less threatening. So we have some good conversations.

Yesterday, Sage said, "Mommy, remember that time you ran over that Christmas tree? How old was I, three?" (I was driving 65 on the interstate when the car in front of me veered off suddenly to the other lane. I found myself confronted with a Christmas tree someone had dropped off of their car. With no time to avoid it, I thought I was going to wreck but my Oldsmobile ran right over it and I kept going. I wonder if that had anything to do with all that oil leakage.)

"Yes, you were three?"

Shepard asked, "How old was I?"

"Shepard, you were still in my tummy. You weren't born yet."

Sage said, "Mommy ate you." Shepard's eyes went wide.

"No, I didn't eat you! You were a little baby and you were growing safe in my tummy until you were ready to come out."

Shepard, "How did I get in your tummy?"

"God put you there."

Shepard, "How did God put me there?"

Flashback: One summer day when I was a young teen, I was watching 'The Young and the Restless' with my mom. Teenage Tracy had just found out she was pregnant. My mom turned to me and said, "You should never have sex before you are married." And that was the extent of my sexual education from my parents. That is why I vowed that I would always be open with my children about sex and sensitive subjects. Education helps make better choices. BUT, Shepard is four and he is looking at the back of my head so I did not think this was the right time to explain to my children where babies come from.

So with the question still lingering in the air I said, "Well Shepard, God was in heaven and he decided that you should be a part of our family, so he...OH LOOK, COWS!!!!"

And he turned to look and started mooing and that was the end of that.

Tattoo you?

Sage strikes again. Let me remind you of the first time Sage wrote on his brother. Will Shepard ever learn not to trust the devil that is his older brother? I think not.
This happened while they were serving punishment time in their room. Sage claims Shepard wanted him to do it which I tend to believe since, among other things, he had a pirate drawn on his chest and a volcano on his forehead. But I don't think Shepard asked for this little gem on his lower back.

Crisis over

You may return to your lives, the crisis is over. My husband has finally honored me with a comment or two. It seems he does value his whites being separated from his colors, a clean plate to eat his wonderfully home-microwaved meals, and the cute way I fold his boxer briefs into swans to leave on his pillow at night. So wifely duties are back on and it is possible that I will throw in a few extras for such lovely comments. Yes, I may change our sheets a week early this year! Do I know how to treat my man or what?!

You might wonder if I feel guilty for strong-arming my husband into commenting on my blog. And to that I say--Hellz no! If you have been reading long enough, you know I am shameless and not above whining, threats and mental torture. I learned it from my kids. Anyway, with his comment I achieved half of my personal comment best for my last post. Ha! Ok, well one of the comments was my own. So maybe a third of my personal best. I do have a dream that one day I might achieve ten comments on one post. If Jesus can reveal himself in a grilled cheese sandwich, if Britney Spears can get her driver's license back, if my husband can take time out from working (or as I like to call it, gallivanting) to comment on my blog, then I know miracles can happen. And someday, it could happen to me. Or not. It's up to you people. So will you do the right thing or will you burn in eternal hellfire? Let me know by going to my comment section. tee hee

One more thing--Hey Alan, wifely duties are suspended until you cut the grass!! ;)

**Notice**

It has come to my attention that my own husband has not commented on my blog for the last EIGHT posts. I know I speak for all of you when I say this is shocking and egregious. As you all know, comments are very important to a blog and since I need all the comments I can get, I have decided that drastic measures are called for. I am hereby suspending all of my wifely duties until such time as my husband chooses to resume supporting his wife. This is effective immediately until this crisis is over. Thank you and I, J.Hi, have approved this message.

**I'm coming after you next, sister-in-law!!!

Trifecta

My weekend was pretty fantastical! It had all the element of a perfect weekend--fall, football, and free stuff.

We attended a fall festival that was sponsored by my employer so everything was free. And my motto is 'If it's free, it's for me.' If there are more than one blowup jumpy thing at an event my boys give it five stars. Shepard declared, "That vegetable was awesome!"

We arrived home in time to see our football team lay the smack down in OT and win the game. Very exciting. In fact when we went to a neighborhood event later in the evening, one little girl said to me, "I heard a lot of screaming in your house earlier. What was going on?" Yeah, when my team is on, I am a screamer. I get very emotional. Sometimes I scare Alan. But what's new?

Sunday we made our annual trek to the Pumpkin patch. I always get the best pictures at the pumpkin patch. So now that we have our pumpkins, the Halloween preparations are complete. Yes, we all have our costumes--the boys started planning their costumes in August. Alan and I always dress up for our neighborhood party. The neighbors are already trying to get out of us what we will be this year but they will not break me!! They might get it out of the boys though--they are weak.

Gas money to get to pumpkin patch: $15

All you can carry pumpkins for one price : $20

Saying to Alan, "Just hold on, wait, don't move,

I've got to get your picture, ok smile, come on, smile! : Priceless

Everything I need to know I learned on South Park

So these are my choices. Really?! I usually do not delve into politics on this blog because politics is just too icky. When you visit J.Hi I want to you leave feeling warm, euphoric and safe like you just went back and visited your mother's womb--yes, please, come and float in my amniotic sac and be nourished by my placenta. Mmmmm, isn't that nice?

I don't want you feel like you have been thrust out in the cold world all wet and screaming with people telling you what to do and getting all up in your shit. However, the subject is on my mind, people! You feeling me? I know you are thinking about it too. You watch TV or read the paper with that frustrated helpless feeling. You look at your neighbor and wonder if they feel the way you do or are they a complete idiot--they are probably the latter because anyone who is not smart enough to turn off their outside floodlight at night so it shines right in my face when I am trying to sleep can not be trusted to vote the correct way. Damn idiot neighbor!!! You also are probably checking what you say around others because you don't want to come off too religious or too elitist or too racist or too communist. You might be sitting quietly by at a dinner party of friends when all of a sudden you are blindsided by a political lecture and urged to "do the right thing" and vote for their candidate (while you are rolling your eyes inside your own brain.)

So I call SHENANIGANS!!! Shenanigans on both of these candidates. Watch this clip and just replace the carnival workers for the government/politicians and you will know how I feel. They are both going to take us to the same place, but one is the tortoise and one is the hare. I am going to vote but I am not going to let them limit my choice. I feel like just slitting my wrists and bleeding all over the ballot in protest. Wouldn't that be cool? Maybe I could be famous like Joe the Plumber! Or I might just be put away for awhile to "rest."

I will vote my conscience--and it won't be for you know who or the other one either. I will vote and then I will go home and continue doing the things I enjoy doing like watching reality shows, eating Cheetos on my sandwich, shooting guns, attending gay weddings, spanking my children, having irresponsible sex with my husband, praising Jesus, listening to Satanic heavy metal music, recycling and using any damn kind of light bulb I damn well please. I'm an American and I am free to do it--for now anyway.

Countdown to Halloween

Three weeks and one day until Halloween!!!!

Are you scared?!

Ain't no party like a J.Hi party

Yesterday was my birthday and I am now solidly in the late 30s category. Ack! Getting older isn't really bothering me yet. Although I am a bit worried about my labia. I had a co-worker once who was about 15 to 20 years older than me. She said that as she got older her labia began to drop and I have been freaked out ever since. So I said to Alan, "Look at my labia."
"Wha? Huh?"
"LOOK AT THEM!"
"OK OK, I'm looking."
"Are they dropping?"
"No, they look fine."
"Measure them."
"WHAT?"
"You heard me. Get the ruler."
"Your labia are fine. They have not dropped."
"Thank God, safe for another year."

So here are some things that were great about my birthday...

1. Bacon--2, count them, 2 slices of bacon, bitches
2. Naked nap
3. Birthday money and guilt free shopping with MY birthday money
4. Sage played "Happy Birthday" on his guitar for me
5. My mom made me a blackberry cobbler even though she had to hunt around town for blackberries
6. When my 20 year old niece said, "You look really good for 38!!" hee hee
7. All of my email, blog and Facebook birthday wishes (Awwwwwww)
8. Tame family party with little to no drama

There weren't many, but here are a few things that disappointed me about my birthday...

1. Not enough time to shop with MY birthday money
2. I still had to do dishes, laundry and scoop cat litter
3. No half-naked men to carry me around on a royal birthday litter so my feet wouldn't have to touch the ground
4. Tame family party with little to no drama

So here is my birthday rap...

I'm 38, I'm a bad ass ho
My labia ain't swinging low
At an all night party I'm known as Speed Racer
Drinking liquor and beer with a Maalox chaser
Rollin' down hard with my birthday wishes
Fuck you all, I'm 38 bitches!

**Just so you know the last two lines were written by Alan because I was stuck. Yes, I am appalled too. I didn't know he was so gangsta.

A Sage moment

Sage asked, "Do you ever wish you had a girl?"

I replied, "No, never. Never have I wished that I had a girl."

Sage, "Why?"

"Because I love my dirty, smelly, crazy boys."

"Don't forget disgusting" Sage said.

"Oh yeah, disgusting too."

Then I added, "I love everything about you, just the way you are....... although you could talk back less."

And with a devilish grin, Sage said, "In your dreams."

Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't

Here's my problem with blogging. I know I should blog more often, probably everyday. However, it's all about integrity. I cannot put something out there that I don't think is up to my high standards--maybe not high so much as moderately high or low to moderately high--yes, that's it, low to moderately high standards. I have to be inspired to blog and my day to day life sometimes is not that inspiring. You people really don't want to hear about my endless battle with laundry--I wash the clothes, I dry the clothes, I put the clothes in the basket, I am too tired to put the clothes away, the cat pees on the clothes in the clean laundry basket, I wash the clothes, I dry the clothes...

You definitely don't want hear about how my eyes had an allergic reaction to my contacts and how they were all bloodshot and drunk looking. And how I had to wear my nerdy glasses for a week straight and I hated it. But my friends at work thought I looked sexy and called me "The Naughty Librarian."

I do not want to bore you with stories about Alan's ring rash--it's on his wedding band finger so he cannot wear his wedding band for the week while it heals. And how I'm totally fine with that even though I will be having him followed while he is not wearing it. (I'm watching you, Alan!) We are considering tattooing a ring on his ring finger so this won't be an issue in the future. And when I say we, I mean me.




And I am absolutely not going to blog about how at a recent neighborhood party I ended the evening looking like this...

'Cause that would just be embarrassing.

There are too many things in my life that just aren't worth mentioning--like how my bathtub was filled up with water, sand, and dirty Legos for a week before Sage cleaned it OR how I cannot afford any home improvement right now so I just move furniture and pictures around to pretend that I have new stuff OR how I know I will never be thin because my gym is right next to a Mexican restaurant and while I am working out I smell the food and fantasize about Chimichangas OR how I secretly practice talking like Heidi Klum because she sounds so fricking cool Or how I think pumpkins are sexy.

I refuse to blog about these nothings. I only want to blog about somethings. So I am stuck waiting and waiting for those somethings--those interesting somethings--to happen. You will know when they happen becaue then I will blog. But until that time I will just have to remain silent. I'm out!

The art of killing the mood: Chapter 2

As the rain of Hanna poured outside, Alan and I were snuggled up in the bed starting a little storm of our own. Apparently hurricanes turn Alan on. Actually, so do blizzards, heat waves, partly sunny days, partly cloudy days, isolated showers, and scattered showers. And don't even get me started on areas of high pressure. Weather, all weather turns him on.

As Hanna raged outside (or whimpered really--I've seen thunderstorms worse than you, Hanna!) the mood inside was serene and sexy UNTIL...Knock, knock, knock.

Sage calls, "Mommy, Daddy!"

Alan said, "Yes, Sage. What do you need?"

Sage, "Shepard said God!"

Alan, "Well, please tell him to say Gosh or Goodness."

Sage, "Ok"

Dang, foiled by the Ten Commandments! Didn't see that one coming.

And then there were none

Shepard started his last year of preschool today. He loves school and was ready to go. Last week we went to meet his teacher and he became totally outdone with me because I wouldn't leave. He said, "Just leave me, Mommy." I told him, "Shepard, I can't leave you. We are only here to meet your teacher." Shepard, "Go, Mommy!" Separation anxiety, what's that? Never really experienced that with Shepard. Not only was he born with a tremendous head, but also born with an adventurous spirit and fierce independent streak.

I will never forget when he was almost two years old. I was doing chores around the house one day when the door bell rang. I opened the front door to reveal my neighbor from across the cul-de-sac who was holding Shepard. I was shocked and embarrassed since I had not even realized that Shepard was not in the house.

The morning started with a tantrum. Shepard has very specific ideas about fashion and it goes like this: Whatever Mommy picks out is absolutely unacceptable. He will not wear khaki pants (actually he will wear khaki shorts but not long pants.) T-shirts are his shirt of choice and he refuses to wear any shirt that has buttons. If I say "Shepard, I have a shirt for you to put on." He replies suspiciously, "Does it have buttons?" I also like to use that as a threat. "Shepard, you better start behaving or I will make you wear a shirt with buttons." And then he wails, "Noooooooo, not buttons!"

So back to the tantrum...I made a deal with him that I would choose the first day of school outfit but after that he could pick his outfits. Well, he was not pleased with my choice. He said that everyone would laugh at him.

What is it with kids today? I once wore a shirt to MIDDLE school that had Popeye the Sailor Man on it just because I didn't want to hurt my mom's feelings. It's true, I had to wear my winter coat all day to save myself the embarrassment. And in one careless moment the coat slipped open and this bratty fat kid with braces saw it. And yes, he laughed at me, AND pointed, no less. But I sacrificed a little (ok, a lot) of pride just for my mom. But will my boys do that for me?! Of course not. His shirt was not that bad. At least it wasn't Popeye.

I made him wear the shirt anyway because WE HAD A DEAL! He cried for about 20 minutes--through getting dressed, teeth and hair brushing. He cried all the way down to the breakfast table and he almost broke me. I was about to give in when he suddenly stopped crying and said in a mopey voice, "Ok, I'll wear it." Then he was all smiles for the rest of the morning. And there was peace on Earth.

Thank God Almighty, I'm free at last

School supplies in hand, Sage climbed on the big yellow cheese today and started 3rd grade. I love Sage so much, I really do. But I think I love him more during the school year than during the summer. You know, too much of a good thing and all. This morning he popped right up when I woke him and gave me no trouble. I expect the meltdown tomorrow when the new 3rd grade smell wears off.


So here is my little man who asked me if he could walk to the bus stop by himself this year. When I said no that one of his parents would be walking with him, he whined, "But it is so embarrassing!!"


Isn't he handsome with his new Clone Wars lunchbox?


When all the kids were kissed and loaded and the bus pulled away the parents let out whoops of delight. Well it was really the moms, the dads just looked clueless. But don't they always?!

The art of killing the mood:Chapter 1

The boys were downstairs watching Star Wars: Episode III. Alan and I were upstairs alone in our room. As Alan was rounding 3rd base and going for the home run, we heard Shepard yelling, "MOMMY!" Alan cracked the door and answered, "Yes Shepard, what's going on?" Shepard, "I am wiping myself!!" Alan replied, "Great, you do that" as he is closing the door. But stopped when he heard Shepard yell, "Come down here now!" Alan asked, "Why?!" Shepard, "There is still poop in my butt."

Pandora's got herself a big brown beaver

Pandora is our cat. She is a rather large girl--Alan calls her "Kitty the Hutt" but she was our first baby and we love her. But it is not always easy to love her because she's a raging queen diva bitch at times. She is very affectionate to Alan and I but if anyone else tries to pet her she will give them a vicious hiss and sometimes a smack. She doesn't scratch them though, she's a lady.

Pandora also does not like her brother, Diablo, very much. We took Diablo in when Pandora was two. We thought she would like the company but we were wrong. She was PISSED and wouldn't have anything to do with us for about 6 months. Even after nine years of having him around she still growls at him and smacks him a good one whenever he gets too close to her majesty. She has never taken to the kids much either. When Sage was little and she hissed at him he would cry. It really hurt his feelings. Shepard, however, just hisses back and laughs at her.

One of our favorite things to do is tease the kids with her. If they keep jumping in our bed at night instead of staying in their bed, Alan will pick her up and tell the kids, "Here comes Pandora to cuddle up with you." And the kids run screaming. Or if they are bugging the crap out of me about wanting a cookie, I will say, "Sure you can have a cookie, but you have to kiss Pandora first." Hee hee, I love that one. Hey, what good are kids if you can't amuse yourself by tormenting them? Shepard actually did kiss her once and he didn't even lose an eye. He must have really wanted that cookie.

Yes, there are advantages to having Pandora around. BUT, and when I say 'but' I mean BUTT, here's the biggest drawback to our portly pussy. She leaves track marks on carpet. I have written about this before in one of my old posts entitled Pussy Problems. Check it out because that post has one of my favorite and most hilarious pictures of Alan in it. The gist of it is this--she is too large to clean herself properly and so she drags her butt along the carpet and leaves us the evidence.


Can you see them? It's kind of hard with our carpet, but try,ok? Squint, close one eye, cross your eyes, drink a beer, whatever. Just look closely--any vertical lines you see should not be there. I can count at least 6. That's Pandora's butt trail--aka shit. They're more impressive in person.


We try to manage this problem by washing and shaving the kitty booty. Then the vet tells me that we also need to bring her in regularly to have her anal glands expressed. Ex-Queef-Me?! Why the hell do cats have anal glands and are they really necessary? Do they serve any purpose than just to make me retch? Can't they be removed? I had all these questions and nowhere to turn until I found The Anal Sac web page. Thank God for it because it answered all my questions. Yes, they can be removed--an anal sacculectomy--but I probably cannot afford that. I also cannot afford to take her to the vet every couple of weeks for this procedure. So I informed Alan that it would be up to him to learn how to express Pandora's anal glands. He scowled at me and said, "You just want to watch me do it so you can point and cheer." Oh, that man knows me so well.

What do you think...separated at birth???