THERE SHE IS.
-Bev
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Bevvy G
You have probably been wondering about Mowgli since this recent Spot Sue.
And, to be honest, I don’t have a ton to say about Mowgli because I think I’ve only seen him once because I’m legitimately 100% terrified of him.
I think he’s gray and white, and I know that he weighs at least 90 pounds.
A lot of my family members will probably chime in down below with better Mowgli stories than I have, but I do know that he hunts shit like for real, that Timmy and Keith’s dog (I think it’s a Lab? It’s a decently-sized whitish-yellow dog.. let’s go with Lab) is totally afraid of him, that he has to be locked in the garage whenever we are hanging out at the pool at Timmy and Keith’s, and that MamaG has considered bringing a gun with her whenever she enters T and K’s property (MamaG hates cats more than I do. Or at least maybe we’re tied). I also know that I once had a nightmare about the bastard.
I mean, you know your cat is an asshole when someone who has possibly never seen it has nightmares about it, man.
As if this wasn’t enough, check out the texts I got from Timmy the night I mentioned his very own jungle cat in my post…
I mean, can any of you name something more terrifying than unknowingly having a psycho cat in your basement?1 Like, “Oh, just a second guys- I’m going to run down and grab a frozen pizza,” and BAM, jungle cat square-off. Frozen pizza bearer never returns.
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OK, guys, that is the original post I was working on when I mentioned that I would do a followup post on Mowgli. But Mowgli’s ears must have been itching, because check out the text conversation happening between Keith (Mowgli’s owner), Gertrude, Bessie, and me a few weeks ago (like three days after I originally mentioned him in the Spot Sue post)…
For those of you who may not be familiar to the ass-cold Midwest, this is not a super uncommon occurrence. I guess cats crawl under cars because it’s warm or something. Unfortunately, this isn’t the only experience my family has with this scenario (read on).
Keith, I’m not sure I know what “free as a goose” even means, but I’m totally here to help make this phrase happen.
Please take a second and picture this asshole cat riding on top of a van to take its 3-year-old owner to preschool.
Keith, I’ll give you $5 to keep driving next time. However, I reckon Mowgli would find his way home- fatter than ever, after ravaging through the local deer population making his way back.
Harry is the dog. Who may or may not be a Lab. And who I may or may not often call Henry because I can’t remember his name.
Remember how I said this wasn’t my family’s first encounter with an undercarriage feline? Yeah. Stick around for the Oreo story2 in a few weeks.
Stick around for that story in a few weeks as well. Dear Lord.
Anyway, back to Mowgli.
Now we do at least have confirmation that this asshole is, in fact, gray and white. Also, if you look and listen closely, you’ll see that his eyes are darker’n a black steer’s tookus on a moonless prairie night, and that Bad to the Bone plays softly out his asshole.
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OH MY GOD, now that was the original Mowgli post (which turned into two posts) that was ready to be posted today. And then I got another Mowgli update.
He’s missing.
There is a God. (Mayberry locals, lock your doors. Hide your other pets. Don’t go outside alone. Sleep with one eye open. And I’m telling you- deer carcasses are going to be popping up and Mowgli’s going to return home as the world’s actual fattest cat.)
-Bev
1I actually can think of something more terrifying… maybe having a loose cat with you on an airplane. Which will be the next story on Frightening Felines Friday (see below).
2I have realized how many terrifying cat stories I have and this quickly became the first in a short series I shall call, “Frightening Feline Fridays”. We’re I’m gonna need some wine to relive all of these, guys.
So, I’m not on the Marie Kondo/KonMari train or anything, but it is that time of year when we all start to do a little spring cleaning, amIrite? I mean, I spent the better part of my Sunday organizing a certain linen closet (more of a catch-all closet) in my place. I actually really like projects like this, and after spending an undisclosed (but ridiculous) amount of money at The Container Store, I have a pretty bad-ass closet if I do say so myself. As of Sunday night, the ripple effect had started, and my apartment is still in a bit of disarray, as I’ve got some purge piles from other spaces sitting out, and a few things I’m waiting to move to new locations. (is anyone even still reading this?)
Anyway, as I was organizing my shit on Sunday, I came to a few realizations:
a) I have an asinine amount of hand soap. If there is a zombie apocalypse anytime in the next year, I will be all set, as far as hand cleanliness. I mean, I don’t want to tell you how many bottles there were, but there were eight.
Eight.1
I live alone in a 750 square foot (ish?) apartment, just to be clear.
b) I also have three bottles of Scrubbing Bubbles shower cleaner. All fairly full. So, clean shower and clean hands heading into the zombie apocalypse, y’all!
c) I am torn about my DVD/VHS collection. I know. VHS. I. Know. It’s still to have an entire drawer of my “entertainment center” dedicated to DVDs and VHS tapes (man, I feel so ridiculous even typing it) that I literally never watch. I mean, I don’t watch a lot of movies. And if I do, I stream them 90% of the time. I should just donate the DVDs and VHS tapes, right? (Because I know there’s someone out there just dying to get his hands on Uncle Buck on VHS…)
But then I feel guilty and a little nostalgic. I mean, I have the Limited Edition Big Lebowski DVD. (and two regular editions…) Of course, it was a gift.
I have this movie called Paradise on DVD, and I honestly can’t really remember anything about it, other than I loved it for some reasons, and I think Don Johnson (90s hot Don Johnson), Melanie Griffith, and Thora Birch. I love Thora Birch.
And then, of course, I have the Now and Then DVD that Felicity gave me after reading my posts about the movie here.2 (More Thora)
But, then, I also have a Hope Floats VHS and Home Alone, which I am 99% certain I must have ended up after moving out from my last shared apartment.
Help, readers. Do you have a DVD/VHS collection? (OK, maybe just think DVDs) Is it worth the prime real estate in my small apartment? Am I going to miss Thora if/when I take her to Goodwill?
Do these movies spark joy? WHAT DEFINES SPARKING JOY? Oh, God. I’m ready to spark somethin’ but it ain’t joy.
-Bev
1This doesn’t count the four in my work bag ready to take to the office bathroom because I don’t like institutional soap. I guess I have a hand soap thing? Because of course I do.
2OK, wait, it appears that I mentioned, but never actually DID a follow-up post about Bev, Henrietta, Agatha, and Ardith’s mopeds? Oh, man. I feel like I do this to you guys all the time. I really need to go back through the old posts with a fine-tooth comb, and see how many posts I owe y’all. I really need to, but I probably won’t. Somebody remind me to hit y’all with some ‘ped stories one of these days though, OK?
It’s everybody’s favorite time again! Well, OK, it’s my favorite (and maybe like two other people), and probably Aunt Sue’s least favorite, but it’s time for another round of Spot Sue Saturday! Uncle Bart makes an appearance as well, which is always a special treat. Don’t worry- I do have a small collection of funny Uncle Bart snaps that I’m willing to unveil one of these days, but unfortunately, his name doesn’t make a cute little alliterative title the way Sue’s does, so it might have to be a shorter series. Also, Sue doesn’t insist on capturing Bart’s every move on vacation (whether he likes it or not), so there aren’t nearly as many photos. It is worth noting that sometimes UB’s phone dies, so he steals Sue’s and takes off-guard photos of her and posts them to her very own Snapchat story, which slays me every time.
I just want to warn you guys (wait, what’s the opposite of warn? The positive version? Because this is definitely a good thing…) that, this morning, I spent some time organizing and editing (ya know, blacking out my dear aunt’s face) my Spot Sue photos from Bart and Sue’s recent Southeast Asia adventure, and we’re all set with pictures through mid-May and I’m not even finished!
Another special shoutout to Uncle Bart and Aunt Sue for providing me with (excellent) blog content for 50% of the year. Anyway, let’s take a peek at what Aunt Sue’s up to this week…
Oh, she’s drinking beer. Weird.
-Bev
Sue, some Vietnamese guy, and some other woman whose name can ONLY be Janice Biffins and who MUST be from Indiana.
It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s… an empty beer mug in Aunt Sue’s hand!
#Refilled (is that Janice’s hand?)
Has to be cheersing Janice.
Go find her a beer.
Don’t tell me you can read that name and not think of this..
-Bev
Happy birthday to my Aunt Zelda, who turns 70 today! Zelda is a baller aunt who’s known for her delicious ham and strong Irish coffees with homemade whipped cream on Christmas Eve, her hat made of PBR cans and yarn, and the fact that she gets up at like 3:30 am.
I’d also like to add the disclaimer that we are pretty sure this is Aunt Z’s 70th. I say this, because, last Christmas, Aunt Zelda and I were riding to dinner with Maude and Jasper, when, somehow, Aunt Zelda’s age came up. She was talking about how she was 67, and that was fine, but she wasn’t looking forward to turning 68 because, for some reason, it seemed so much older. She just really didn’t want to be 68. The conversation in the car continued and I noticed Aunt Zelda kinda mumbling under her breath. She was calculating and then realized that she was already 68, turning 69 the upcoming February. So, she dodged that bullet, I guess. Kinda? Maybe?
Anyway, happy 70-ish birthday to Aunt Zelda! May the beers be a-flowin’ and may you choose your own age for the rest of time!
-Bev
Hey friends,
If you have a hot second today, send some positive vibes to my friend, Norbert Mulligan today, as he heads back to MyCity from NYC to start interviewing for some administrative positions in our field.
First of all, I would like your positive vibes for Norbert because I want him to move back to MyCity so we can get “blackout” (his term, not mine, MamaG) and have Beerlympics in my apartment again. And so we can set off the fire alarm trying to make drunk snacks. And so I can be his secretary when he works his way up the ranks in our area offices. Because if I’m Norbert’s secretary, I will just watch Netflix at my desk and bring us coffee and breakfast burritos as needed.
I also want your positive vibes for him because he’s really. damn. nice. A few weeks ago, I was texting him about an Extreme Bev Hangover: Work Edition and he Postmated me 24 mini blue Gatorades. To my office. I mean, the dude knows what’s up.
Lastly, I’d like your positive vibes for Norbert because, no matter what, I can always count on him to make me feel like less of a shitshow. Like when I talked to him via FaceTime recently and told him about how I drunkenly ended up at a super touristy Cheesecake Factory at midnight the night before. He quickly told me that he puked in the bathroom there once and I felt so much better about my life. And, sometimes, he just sends me Snapchats like this (sticker added by me in order to protect Norbert’s identity):
Never change, Norbert. Never change.
Now, go get that damn job so we can set some shit on fire in the near future!
-Bevvy G
I’m back with another rendition of #SSS, and before you get into this week’s photos, I just want to tell (or remind) you all that Aunt Sue likes beer. I mean, she really, really likes beer.
She went through a big Blue Moon phase. Like, BIG Blue Moon phase. There used to be a cat roaming the Page farm named Blue Moon.1
There was also an incident where Aunt Sue cracked open her first beer of a Friday afternoon juuuuust before someone pulled into the driveway and stopped in for some reason. It must not have been quite 5:00 because Suzie Q quickly popped her beer into one of her kitchen cupboards so the visitor wouldn’t see her tipping one back.
She found the (nearly full) beer in her cabinet days later.
I’m not here to embarrass Sue, but I feel like that background knowledge is important for today’s (and upcoming weeks’) post(s).
Aunt Sue eats street meat with her beer. I thought for a second those were Uncle Bart’s feet in the background, but a) that wouldn’t make sense with the camera angle, and b) those aren’t Crocs flip flops. Yes, UB wears Crocs flips.
I think she’s trying to Postmate herself a beer.
Found one.
Aunt Sue: “Have any beer on there?”
Found another one.
How many beers do you think she has in the purse in this photo?
I really hope y’all dig this series… because, even though Uncle Bart and Aunt Sue landed back in Mayberry2 today, I think I have at least fifty more photos of Sue drinking beer in Asia.
-Bev
1I hated that cat, (just by default) but not nearly as much as I hate the cat currently roaming the Page farm. His name is Mowgli, and I hate him by default, but also by the fact that he is a jungle cat. (more on him later)
2Well, in River City. Mayberry Municipal Airport is… currently… out of service?
You thought I forgot.
-Bev
Valentine’s Day is a weird holiday to me. Some people love it, some people hate it, and some (like me) are pretty indifferent.
This year, though, I gotta tell ya- I’ve had an exceptional Valentine’s Day! Let me just outline my perfect little day for you:
*an unexpected day off of work
*lunch with one of my best friends
*a McDonald’s HFS (hot fudge sundae to the lay person) in complete silence in my car in the grocery store parking lot
*an unexpected delivery of flowers and some VDay treats at my door (thanks, Tin Cup and Felicity! Well, lesbihonest, thanks, Felicity. I’m sure TC has no idea about your sweet gesture)
*a positive appointment for a nagging issue that’s been plaguing Smokey G
*watching Abducted in Plain Sight. Whoa. What a ride that was.
*bread and butter for dinner
*rosé, Rice Krispies, and rednecks (Swamp People) for dessert
But the real highlight? Video footage of the Singing Valentine that Keith and Bessie and I sent to Gertrude. You see, Gertrude works in the special education department in River City. The River City high schoolers go around to the different schools and businesses in the area, delivering a rose and a beautiful tune to the one(s) you love for a mere $25. I mean, for $8.33 apiece, Keith, Bessie, and I gave Gertrude the gift that will last a lifetime. Special shoutout to Gertrude’s colleagues who were sure to video tape some of the event.
Happy Valentine’s Day to all. But especially to Gertrude.
-Bev