DIY Cat Bed

For Flav's big birthday (1!) I knew exactly what he wanted...he's been hinting around quite a bit. See, Flav's entire day consists of 3 activites: fixing his hair (he is my cat), snuggling, and sleeping. I bought him a kitty bed after his trip to the 'spa' and he sleeps the shit out of that thing. Problem is, it's heinous. So, it lives in the corner of the room where it is cat accessible yet out of sight. Also, it's not really Flav sized so he kinda sleeps half in the bed and half out of the bed. I'm not a mathematician, but I think that adds up to the perfect idea for a birthday present. So, I've been on the lookout for a new bed that is a. flav sized and b. as cute as my kitty. With the birthday less than a week away I've had no luck so I decided to DIY.

I know he's already seen and tried out his present but I think due to the tiny cat brain it'll still be a surprise.


How about a DIY how to? Check it---I picked up two Euro style pillows at Bed, Bath and Beyond along with two pillow covers with zippers.


To go along with the pillows I made for my bedroom. Plans for those are here.


I printed out on regular printer paper both cat's names with a small pair of cat eyed glasses above them. I cut the design out on freezer paper and ironed it onto the pillow covers.

Painted the design in with black fabric paint.


After a trial run by Flav himself I figured out the pillows as they came were a little too fluffy and not exactly cat friendly, and really needed to dip in the middle so I used some buttons I had been collecting for no apparent reason to make 'cat pocket'. I sewed four buttons on each side of the pillow to pull the middle down.

And finally the finished product...a bed for each of my lovies.

Rock you like a Hurricane

I rolled back into town very late Sunday night from the ATL and having gone the whole weekend detached from any form of news source, as I typically do on vacation, its seemed as if I was bombarded by every news media outlet telling me I was going to parish by way of one Miss Irene at approximately 2am Friday.


So...I've got a week to live, which is bad enough, but now I have to avoid television and radio all together as their crys of wolf are not limited to the local news cast which I try desperately to avoid. I hate hurricanes, call me a midwesterner but I like my natural disasters to come without warning. I can't explain any other reason than I don't like the hype. Speaking of good old fashion, pop-out-of-nowhere disasters...VA, my thoughts are with you.


Five days out, while there was no cause for concern I did take this opportunity to knock the dust off my Hurricane supply kit. Yes, I have one. This is apparently an oddity amongst my friends. I was talking to She's Bossy about what supplies we keep in our kits and both of us revealed something mildly embarrassing. Without electricity its damn hard to cook...but not when you have a chef....Chef Boyardee to be more specific. That's right, my hurricane supply kit is chock-a-bock full of beefaroni and ravioli. A. Its comforting B. That shit is good for like 30 years in a can C. Its yummo. Other items I can't go without (and neither should you)...water, dc, and rum. Let's be honest, you're going to be without power for several days, it's fracking hot in FL, I'm going to want to be drunk.

But by Wed Irene had changed her tune and decided to go make the yanks panic.

Like I said, I guess I just really don't like to wait. I can't stand the uncertainty of it all. Plus the graphics are so ominous. Why don't they make the little hurricane spinney guy a more soothing color like pink instead of red and black.

Or....have you ever seen those photos where people conceal alcohol in their Facebook pictures by using cats?

They could do that....look, it's a Furricane.


Ok, ok, I know Hurricanes are serious. Better? This Furricane means business....

Hmmm...don't want to piss off the PETA people, little helmet to protect the ol kitty melon on impact with shore.

In all seriousness :) really this time. If you haven't gotten your supply kit ready now is the time. This is the worst part of hurricane season and there is no reason not to be prepared with a few cans of Beefaroni and a bottle of your favorite spirits to get you through the worst of it. Take care my east coast friends!

Yawn

All I can think about is sleeping....

Hot'Lanta....Not Just an Allman Brothers Song....

Off to the ATL to visit with My BFF and Mrs. My BFF tomorrow and not surprisingly a good portion of my trip revolves around local fare. I don' t know what it is but it seems no matter where I go I have a food place I want...nay...need to eat at when I find myself there again. In Indiana it's the best Mexican food to ever grace my lips, key west heaven is blue in the am hours, in Costa Rica I will always hit up the grocery store taco shop, and in Atlanta I like to get my fill of BBQ and sweet potato pie...and if there's time maybe I grab some tots.

Anywho, because I make lists in my sleep....my to-do :) Fat Matt's BBQ, talk about doing something active, drink the best beer ever brewed, some new BBQ place I need to try, not come remotely close to do anything active, make the same joke for the millionth time, move and/or shake, laugh hysterically at a joke I've heard a million times, talk about going out, drink mas of the best beer every brewed that I can't buy in SWFL, stay in and lose myself in conversation with my bestest. Repeat :)

Hello...

Who wants to shoot their friends?

In general I'm a fan of activities. Don't get me wrong, a Sunday Funday for me typically means doing "nothing", but nothing is never truly nothing. Nothing usually means I'll watch all the Fast and the Furious movies or something else embarrassing like The Last Song. I rarely can just sit, for this reason I usually like to plan activities for myself and those close to me. This past Sunday paintball was on the docket.

It happened like this, I vaguely remember seeing something on tv where paintball was depicted as a fun family activity. Sometime the week after the farce I saw on television I sent out an email to everyone I knew and asked who wanted to "shoot their friends", I got an alarmingly high positive response to that particular question. Thus this past Sunday was referred to affectionately as Sunday Funday Paintball, D Day, Deathmatch 2011, or The Day I Made Jeff-ry Cry (not really, but I thought he was going to for one very serious second).

In the week leading up to Deathmatch 2011, there was a lot of talk of snipers, what clothing was least likely to let your flesh be ripped from your bones, how much weaponry experience people had. Ultimately I started thinking I should have organized a kumbaya circle instead of a paintball trip, perhaps that would have been more my speed.

Alas, Sunday I showed up with my game face (did you know my game face has a quivering bottom lip?). We were given guns, face masks, and chest protectors. Some people chose not to wear the chest protectors. I can't wrap my brain around this, if the eyes are the boobs of the face and you go out of your way wearing a sight de-hancing face mask to protect them, then the boobs are the eyes of the body and you should want to give them the same level of protection. Whatever boys, they're your moobs, not my boobs...do what you want with them.

In the end I was a bad ace paint baller. As I was sliding across the course to hide behind barriers I felt like I was pulling out some sweet Dukes of Hazzard moves. Apparently it appeared different to the onlookers who were at times concerned I could have just broken a bone by the way my body contorted, but I'll retain the version I have in my mind in the ol memory bank. After the first few times out where I was shot and "killed" within seconds of the start whistle I got the hang of it and managed to leave some welts on my friends. After seeing the battle wounds of my friends I think I fared pretty well with the most serious injury on my rock hard bicep.

Someone call a vet...that python is sick!

Challenge Accepted

Have I ever mentioned I love One House Love? Well I do and recently they threw down a challenge, of the DIY sort. Ya'all know me, I often step away from a challenge but this time I figured why not, I mean I have relatively no chance of getting hurt, I likely won't have to physically exert myself and of course I love me some DIY.

I decided to make distressed picture canvases which I found here. They looked bad ace and though time consuming, easy enough. Also, my BMF got married just about a week shy of a year ago and I thought a photo from his wedding put onto a canvas would be a great gift from the person who pronounced them husband and wife. I won't rehash the directions because the original website does it best but I will make a few suggestions/fun facts/observations...come along with me.



1. Fact: This DIY is perfect if you have a friends wedding anniversary coming up and you are considering robbing a bank.

One of the many suggestions on the comments section is to use a sponge to rub the paper off the canvas. This is a great suggestion, because while your fingers are perfect and preferable to use so you don't rub away too much of the photo, you will likely rub your finger prints clean off your hands. So, with this project you can make a gift from the heart, and perhaps rob someone blind leaving no fingerprints behind. Everyone's a winner, except of course the person who got robbed.

2. Suggestion: After putting on the gel medium I placed the photo onto the canvas before wetting it down. My first go at this I followed the directions and I had some difficulty.

3. Observation: Cats are not helpful in this project, but they are cute.


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Gay? or Foreign?

There are a few constants in this little thing that I call life...the world looks better through sunglasses, beer tastes better on Friday, whether I'm taking the path well traveled or less traveled I'd rather do it in flip flops, and humans are an intriguing species. Seriously, do you ever just listen to what is going on in the world around you. It's hilarious.

SLBDJT and I made a last minute trip down to Key West this past weekend and while I would normally send you reeling with jealousy, fill your faces with smiles, and make your bellies jiggle with laughter due to my shenanigans I think I'll spend my time talking a little more about the sights and sounds I took in while I sat in my shades drinking an ice cold beer on a sweltering day, or walking down Duval in my favorite pair of rainbows. Because people are, well, hilarious.

Somewhere between snorkeling and my nap (i.e. passout) on Saturday we were walking down Duval when a guy passed us, said "Tall people" and proceeded to high five the tall guy walking behind us. It was so nonchalant, "tall people", like a person saying "excuse me", "thank you", or "I like your mustache". Pretty sure I'm going to start saying "short people" and throwing up a high, or low as it were, five as I pass others who also can't utilize the top shelf of their kitchen cabinets.

Moving on....

Ever heard of a game called "Gay? or Foreign?"? No? Didn't think so, because I'm pretty sure we made it up. On Sat morning while discussing the potential for sexytime, as we have been known to do from time to time, SLBDJT informed me that the neighboring room in our sweet little B and B was housing a gay guy and his fag hag. Being that KW is a gay mecca, I thought nothing of it aside from a inner glow of happiness for my friend that there was an available girl situated very close to our room in a town where people are known for getting smashed and making bad decisions. I mean, Key West is like Vegas, but with brunch. Anyway, I ran into the "gay" guy next door later in the hallway. Turns out, not so much gay, just foreign. Probably not so much his fag hag as his girlfriend. This little incident spurred the game, "Gay? or Foreign?" which SLBDJT is apparently terrible at. I get it, sometimes its hard to tell. Especially with the French, its not their fault, that language could make the late Macho Man Randy Savage sound fruity. Picture it...."Oh oui. Encliquetage dans un Slim Jim". You might think...gay....but you would be wrong.