I own a kitty cat!

I would like to officially introduce Neil Catrick Harris. He is home. The dogs are freaking out a little, but it is nothing more than what I expected. They want to sniff him, NCH hisses every time they come near him. He had a rough day. His first bath, his first car ride, his first time puking on mom, 3 dogs at Big Jed's house, two here....I would be hissing too. Plus, he was taken away from his sister and the freedom of living in a barn.

He is curled up in the corner of the couch right now snoozing and my heart is just melting. I forgot what it is like to get a puppy/kitten. It's a different feeling than getting an adult dog, it really is. I have completely and totally fallen in love with him and cannot wait to watch him grow up. I hope he stays engaged and curious and wants to be around people. Because now, he just mews if you try to lock him up and is only happy if you are in sight. I really hope he remains social, but from what I know about cats, it is a total gamble.

So, I present to you, THE Neil Catrick Harris.

His first bath

Being fucking adorable.

But, mom, I don't want to play with the toys.

How do you Helen Keller?

Big Jed and I frequently get into these really, really random text message conversations. Tonight was no different. The beginning is in reference to a hose nozzle I found in my basement that I thought she would want.

Erratic: I have been playing with it. It is kind of bad ass for a nozzle.

Big Jed: Please continue to play with my nozzle.

Erratic: hahahahahahahaha dirrrrty.

Big Jed: My nozzle also has six settings.

Erratic: That is awesome. Do you have a drizzle setting?

Big Jed: Wahahahaha! It does...when I think of you, I drizzle.

Erratic. LMFAO. Awesome. I just upgraded my soaker setting.

Big Jed: Hahada my new laugh. I love dirty nozzle humor. I am all art just thinking about it.

Erratic: All art????????? This is the best fucked up phone convo ever.

Big Jed: I just snorted. Cunt rag twat plug. I meant wet not art. I love drugs. I may take more. (In reference to allergy meds)

Erratic: When in doubt....medicate. Cooter catcher.

Big Jed: Cooooooter. I like to say it like that. Cooooooter.

Erratic: Can't stop laughing. Twat.

Big Jed: Twaaaaaaaat...Helen Keller style dude.

Erratic: Gooob

Big Jed: Flaaaaaaaaarby floooooo

Erratic: Kaaaaaaaaarg jook

Big Jed: Snaaaaaaaar

Erratic: Tooooooomeeeee

Big Jed: Preeeeeeeeet

Erratic: Booooooorg

Big Jed: Ruuuuuuur

Erratic: Bagooooof

Big Jed: Shnaaaaarb

Erratic: Cartooooooooooooooch

Big Jed: Doooooooot

Erratic: Jarbeeeen

Big Jed: Herfooooong

Erratic: Waaaaaabveeeee

Big Jed: Yerrrrrrf

Erratic: I just typed this entire conversation on my blog.

Big Jed: This might be one of our finer moments.

Erratic: Our finest.

Sloppy dog kisses fix everything.

Sometimes I wish that nobody knew about this blog. I mean, not nobody nobody. Just nobody I knew. Not my family or my friends. Because sometimes, I just need to talk about shit that I don't really want anyone to know about. Day to day stuff that would betray people in my life, but that I need to get off my chest. Stuff I simply cannot post here. It's frustrating, because it happens more than I would like to admit. The funny thing is, my first readers of this blog were people in my "real" life. A lot of them still are. And I love them for reading. I even love the people who pretend that they still read it, but yet I know don't. I do. I love them.

But, sometimes, just sometimes, I want to talk to people who don't know me. Who don't see me everyday, who can't make me feel guilty when I drunk blog and make a total fool of myself. Or who won't give me that sympathetic look when I have a nervous-breakdown blog moment. We all know I have them.

Here's the thing. I feel raw. I feel like someone has removed every barrier, every wall, every safe guard and put me on a pedestal in front of a million people. Naked. On a bad hair day. And I haven't shaved. But, I can't talk about it here. I can't tell you all why and I can't get advice on what to do and I can't call you all and cry until my face hurts. Because it would hurt other people.

I am mostly fine with this, really. I chose to be lax on my identity, I think most of you know who I am by now. I chose to tell some of my friends and family about this blog, knowing full well it would mean censoring myself from time to time. And that's OK. It really, really is.

But, today? TODAY? I really need to call all of you and cry until my face hurts.

It's funny how I have so many people I am close to, so many people I can call and trust and talk about anything with. And how even me, a person with more support than anyone could ever ask for, can feel this lonely. This vulnerable. This raw.

This too shall pass, I know that. I am strong and loved. But, holy fuck does it suck right now.

And as if he knew, Shorty McShortDog just sat down next to me, put his head on my shoulder, and kissed my cheek, then curled up in a ball and went to sleep. See? One step closer to just being erratic again.

Star Wars Fail.

I am a bad American. Or a bad sci-fi/fantasy fan. Or a bad geek. Or something. I have never seen Star Wars. I will wait for the dramatic gasps to die down.

Better? OK, so Spike TV was replaying the original three this weekend and I recorded them, planning on having a marathon today.

The first time I tried to watch the first movie, I slept through the whole thing. I restarted it and found myself on Facebook, Twitter, really anywhere doing anything other than watching it. I sort of kind of saw it, but not really. I tried to start the second one. Same thing.

Now, sometimes I don't like things because I am not in the mood for them and that may be the case here. It is hot as fuck in my house right now and it is making me crabby. Plus, I have a gazillion hours of homework because I am in culinary school AND HAVE NOT COOKED IN A MONTH. I hate baking. Anywho, I just couldn't get into them. I tried. I feel like I should love them, I just, well, don't.

I am going to give it another try, but do you think it is because I am 30 years too late? I mean, part of the problem is that the special effects were awful. But, again, 1977. Or is it that the storyline has been copied so many times since, it seemed overdone? I mean, I know that Star Wars was the original, but it wasn't necessarily the original for me. Does that make sense? Or do you think it is hearing 28 years of hype and the movies not living up to it? I feel totally let down.

I know I am over thinking this, but I really expected to like it. It's just, well, weird.

Something I just need to say.

When I tell people I am getting a cat with two large dogs, they generally think I am crazy. Or irresponsible. Or any number of negative things. So, I am going to need to go ahead and climb up on my soap box for a moment. Feel free to skip this if you are not a die-hard, bleeding heart lover of animals.

Neil Catrick Harris is the kitten of a feral cat, meaning it is not domesticated. I have dealt with feral animals before, so I do have some experience in this. Not a lot, and not really in my own home, but I still understand how their instincts differ from a regular animals and how to adjust to that. I have never owned a cat, lived with a cat, or spent any significant amount of time with cats, so their behavior I am unfamiliar with. Don't worry, books are on the way. Along with hours and hours of Internet research that started tonight by reaching out to my Facebook and Twitter friends.

I like animals a lot more than I like people. The boy is a cat person, I am a dog person. I am allergic to both, which is whatever. They have drugs. I refuse to live a life that is void of animals. I refuse.

Last night, I got home from school and just started vomiting. No reason, I didn't even feel bad. Just like, oh, vomit. Then a serious fever hit for about an hour, I fell asleep, and woke up shortly after just fine. The entire time and the rest of the night, Shorty sat on the floor right by me. He gave me kisses and cuddles from time to time, but mostly he just stood guard.

When I cry, they curl up in my lap and just let me hug them. I find it hard to sleep without a dog against my back. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the dog pile, when both dogs just sprawl their whole bodies across you and you all nap. There is usually an elbow in the spleen, but it's worth it. I adore the pure joy they get out of a tennis ball, a rawhide, or just a walk around the block. I love how happy they are to see you. No matter how bad of a mood you are in, their little butts are wagging uncontrollably.

I have volunteered for various animal shelters and have attended obedience school with a certain dog of short stature who is rotten.

I believe that people who abuse animals are the cruelest most hateful people who have ever existed.

I cry my fucking eyes out at Sarah McLaughlin commercials. I hate it when people are prejudice against animals, especially breeds of animals, because other people have bred them to have undesirable traits.

I. FUCKING. LOVE. ANIMALS.

I am prepared to approach my kitten the same way I have my dogs. Tons of information, even more love, and patience. OK, probably not patience. But, lots of love to make up for it. This kitty will eat the best food, shit in the best kitty litter, have the best toys, and more love than it could ever possibly need.

Is it the best decision I have ever made? No, probably not. But, these kitties need a home and I am a big softy, so here we are.

I still want an otter.

NCH. Maybe.

They are not the best pictures because they would not hold still for Big Jed. But, I believe that this is our future kitty, Neil Catrick Harris. We are not sure if it is a boy or a girl, but either way, the boy and I both saw this cat and were like, this is our cat. We will meet him/her first to be sure, but I will post pictures as soon as he is ours, about a week and a half we think.

Now, all of you that know anything about owning cats, this is one of those times when I want advice. ADVICE. Lots of advice. I have never owned a cat and have no idea what on earth to do here. So, advice.

Erratic Throws Down! OK, not really.

It seems to me that I once had a blog? And, maybe, just maybe, I posted regularly. Or at least somewhat regularly. And people read it...oh, the good old days.

So, I'm not doing it on purpose, I really am not. I am just, well, not that interesting these days. Between work and school and finding a new job and everyone I know getting married, well, I am swamped.

But! Something really weird happened at school today. There are these two girls who constantly. talk. shit. I mean, every word that comes out of their mouth. It grates on my nerves quite a bit. Like, to the point where I have to drink to make my murderous rage go away. They are also single handily the two laziest excuses for human beings I have met. Like, seriously. A big part of our day to day class is cleaning up after ourselves and I do not think I have EVER seen either one of them do more than wipe the same spot on a table over and over. While talking shit. That murderous rage is starting again...

So, today I sort of hit my limit. She was talking shit about our pie and I just lost it and said, "I am sick of your fucking mouth." She asked me to repeat what I said, and I did. She then went on some bull shit tirade about how she lives in America and has the right to say whatever she wants. To which I replied that I had the right to walk away and did just that.

Now, I must say, this is very out of character for me. It is rare that I talk shit in a serious manner. I joke around with people and generally try to avoid conflict because, really, what's the point? But, she was visibly upsetting the rest of my group and I don't know, I just snapped.

So, this girl then walks over and starts talking to the other girl in the dynamic duo. This is where I probably should have let it go. They always tell me that I am fake because I don't stand up to them when they piss me off and I walk away. So, I walked by (and was actually joking) and said, "oh, look who is talking shit now?"

I should not have done that.

She proceeded to cry (still not sure why this happened) and threatened me, basically telling me not to walk to my car by myself.

I really just don't even know what happened. I mean, I forget sometimes that I am dealing with kids. But, this whole thing was just ridiculous. First of all, because I never even changed the tone of my voice. I was not mad, just annoyed. And second of all, because tears? What the fuck was that about?

So, anyway, Erratic is spreading the love and traumatizing lazy bitches everywhere.

On a totally unrelated note, how fucking awesome was Neil Patrick Harris on Glee? HOW. FUCKING. AWESOME?

Neil Catrick Harris

People don't get me. I mean, you all get me. Because, well, why else would you read this crap? This blog is called Erratic for a reason, I am erratic. I am crazy and kind of all over the place. Like, tonight, I cried at work. CRIED AT MOTHER FUCKING WORK. Why, you ask? Someone stole my silverware. I don't know why I cried, but it was humiliating. I tried to hide and keep it from everyone, but I failed miserably and OMG I CRIED AT WORK. These are things that happen to me. I was just watching Modern Family and cried my eyes out. At a show. That is funny. Tomorrow if I watched the same show, nada. This is my crazy, this is my erratic.

I am getting a cat. Well, I guess we are getting a cat. The cat is currently 2 weeks old and we are naming it Neil Catrick Harris because Tini gave me the idea and it is the best idea anyone has ever had ever. We were going to get a girl cat, but now I think we have to get a boy cat to go with the name.

So, people keep asking why we are getting a cat. And my dead pan response has been because I want the cat to ride around on the dogs so I can post it on LOL Cats. Now, seriously, does anyone reading this actually think that is the reason I am getting a cat? No. Because you get me. I walked into the kitchen the other night and someone was saying "does she realize that dogs aren't horses?" YES I REALIZE THAT.

I just wish I came with a warning label. Like, some guy walked with me everywhere and handed out a little users guide to every new person I meet. So, they would get why I mumbled angrily under my breath to no one, or why I always talk to people as I am walking away, or why I can't say no, or why I am the way I am. I'm not crazy, just erratic.

Can your face have a nervous breakdown?

Things I no longer have to deal with because this weekend is finally over:

1. My sister's wedding drama and bridezilla related family breakdowns.
2. Driving my father's Yaris which has the acceleration of a turtle tied to a tree.
3. Having fingernails longer than the tips of my finger because I have not had fingernails in six months and I keep accidentally injuring myself and others.
4. Freaking out about the new dog sitter staying with the dogs and forgetting to feed them, water them, and general non-care related things.

Things I now have to deal with because this weekend is over:

1. The family drama that is no longer going to be secret because of the wedding. My sister is still an ass and my family notoriously has no filter.
2. The hives COVERING my face because of some kind of waxing/air brush make-up incident. It hurts and I have no idea what even caused it. Maybe my face nervous-breakdowned on my behalf.
3. The whole health triglyceride thing that I promised myself I would deal with when I got home. Stupid bad promises to myself.
4. Going through the 600 photos the boy took and editing out the 458 photos of my nostril.

All in all the weekend went well, the wedding was beautiful, everyone laughed at my maid of honor speech, and I didn't do anything I will regret. Also, seriously, everyone laughed at my maid of honor speech. I was extremely concerned that I would hear crickets chirping and be forced to crawl under the table in shame.

And since it is still "this weekend" I am going to have a beer, catch up on DVR, and give my dogs lots and lots of hugs and kisses. It is good to be home.

P.S. THERE WAS A PUPPY NEXT TO ME ON THE PLANE. I had to tell someone. Cutest. Puppy. Ever.

This post barely makes sense to me and must be read in "fast frantic" voice. Proceed.

Do you ever stop listening to a message because it is just too long and your attention span is gone and you are rolling your eyes so far back in your head, you fear permanent damage? You were probably listening to a message from me. Or the boy. Because I was totally just listening to a message from the boy like that and I had to give up. Normally, I listen to the whole thing, despite the hard core eye rolling. I just don't have it in me today.

My sister's wedding is on Saturday. And while everything is as OK as it is going to be, this shit stresses me out. I am getting email after email about things I need to do for her and appointments I need to make and money I need to spend that I don't have. Plus, you know, my life here. And the fact that I REALLY JUST WANT TO FUCKING DRINK SOME BEER but my test results came back and my cholesterol is really low (123!) but my triglycerides are high (230!) The first question out of her mouth was, "How much beer do you drink?" My life pretty much ended as she proceeded to tell me that the main cause of high triglycerides with low cholesterol is beer. Fucking empty calories. So, you know, my one stress release is killing me. Or some shit. Somebody please just put an end to all of this. I mean, not really. Because most days I love my life. But, holy fuck this week not so much.

And I have reports due and work making me come in when I am not scheduled and MY LEGS ARE SO FUCKING PALE AND THE DRESS IS GREEN AND OMG.

And I still want an otter. And beer. And money. Mostly beer and money. And an otter.

And also? ALSO? Today I was at school and my group is dumb, dumber, and jack ass. Seriously, I would say something, like, hey guys, I am going to go make the apple filling for the croissants, will you roll out the dough for the danish. I would be gone for like 30 minutes making the filling and come back and they are standing there eating the fucking Challah bread and drinking milk and MAKING ME WANT TO KILL THEM.

Deep breaths.

Then I called Big Jed and basically said this entire email into her ear REALLY REALLY fast and she kept telling me to breath and possibly called all my friends and family to find a nice, happy place I could stay for a little while.

I just opened a beer. Fuck my triglycerides and FUCK THIS DAY.

For the record, in case you have not already figured this out I will NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER have a wedding of this magnitude. EVER. Cannot emphasize that enough. EVER.

There is not enough Xanax in the world.

Also, those of you who actually worry when I freak out like this, don't. I am just kind of intense and really am mostly fine, just stressed and ragey. And drinky. Mostly ragey.