I don’t nearly hold up to my old three posts a day and two on weekends schedule as much, sorry three readers.
Nowadays, pretty much the Inquisitr gets all my words, and often at the end of the day I have not a word to spare, not even to converse with my family, friends or the man who is ringing up my slurpee, for shame.
One reason I didn’t post for a bit, too, was that my kitten died. Her name was Delilah. She was 7 months old. She escaped out the front door or a window when I was showering and not ten minutes later, we found her dying in the street. We rushed her to the ER vet, on Election Day night, but they were unable to save her. I do like to think that when I picked her up and placed her in the red crate with a little blanket for transport that she could see me when she opened her eyes.
So why am I posting this? Because for some odd reason, Google searches in the Femme Dangereuse household that week skyrocketed around all manner of kitten death, cats getting hit by cars, whether cats should stay inside, and how long it would take to get over the death of a kitten. Getting a new cat didn’t help- she’s not my Delilah and I don’t like her as much. (My kids do.) But anyway, I just wanted my sad little post to come up for someone who may need to know that it’s okay to feel like a person died when your cat died. This is about as bitched up as I get, so cuddle up to this post when you need some love from me ’cause it’s all you’re getting, candy ass.
I always hated internet cat people. What a bunch of losers. I hate looking at pictures of peoples’ cats and I really don’t get the overall cat worship. But my kitten was special, damnit, and I’m not one of those people. All day long when I worked she would sit on my feet. She slept in my bed and brought me things and cried and didn’t eat when we went to Bird-in-Hand for two days. I hate that she was a special, smart and lovely cat and she only got to be here for seven months. She deserved a long life and because my stupid house doesn’t have one functional screen, she died.
I couldn’t break ground with my piddly little square shovel, and marauding dogs next door raised concerns about grave robbery. We buried Delilah at sea in my hometown of Babylon, by the pool:
And below, some of my favorite shots of Delilah, since she deserves a memorial:
When I was addicted to smutty HP fanfic, I realized a lot of things about men, women and porn.
Women consume porn just as voraciously as men, but when I queried my male friends about porn, they all seemed to have the same habits, all visual. “I like pregnant women.” “Ghetto asses.” “A sex act best described by the chorus of a saucily named Beatles song.” You know the one. Use your imagination.
But female porn, mainly erotica, seems to be so different because the provocative part is in emotion. Women aren’t getting off on pics of a guy getting off in someone’s hair, it’s more like on a woman vacillating at a very handsome, troubled half-werewolf that turns our cranks.
Which is why the iPhone kindle app is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can get limitless girl porn, and some of it’s free. Waiting too long for the new Sookie Stackhouse novel to hit my iPhone, I discovered the emoporntastic Night Huntress series by Jeaniene Frost. I plowed through the four of them like a blood-starved half-vampire, and now I’m hunting again. If only it were as easy as “milk milf tits site:rapidshare.com” for us. Women get the short end of the stick here!
I know it’s a total departure from the books but it’s still awesome. I loved Lafayette’s speech (if I got a Jew’s chance at a Al-Qaeda rally o’ gettin’ outta here…) and Eric and Bill being gay for each other at the mall and Maryann inspiring an orgy! This is gonna be so good!
Sam’s being a total bitch this season though. I wonder what his deal’s gonna be.
Luckily, it was only for the duration. Unluckily, I got something in both of my eyes while watching it. It may have even appeared that I was tearing up. And I don’t even like Regina Spektor.
Courtesy of Edgar Allan Poe, just because I’m in that kind of mood…
ANNABELLE LEE
Author: Edgar Allan Poe
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me
Yes! that was the reason
(as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
