Showing posts with label oscar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label oscar. Show all posts

Monday, April 07, 2008

Spring is springing

THE WEATHER IS JUST beginning to warm up here in New York. Spring is arriving in fits and starts; although it was colder than a witch's titty for a few hours this afternoon, we had a gorgeous Saturday, which I spent lying around and napping with Oscar, windows open and fan gently blowing. Check out the sweet kitty porn from our love session.














See how I seduce you?

The true indication that spring is on its way, however, is that songs built for floating out of cars windows are starting to show. True to form, Usher has hit springtime hard with a skittery banger called "Love in This Club." It's already topped the Billboard charts, but the video just dropped and it's got everything you'd want: pretty colors, flashing lights, great choreography, sexy hip-hop ladies and total nonsense for a plot.

Ole!

Usher - "Love in This Club (Director's Cut)"

We all know what kind of club Usher means. Bring a towel!

Saturday, December 22, 2007

A little less Yenta, a little more chalupa.

I TURNED THE CORNER onto Broadway, headed towards the closest grocers to grab a few things for dinner, and ran into my neighbor's son standing with his little cousin. He's about eleven-years-old and pudgy, and she was bundled up and had her nails polished. A couple months ago, Oscar escaped from my apartment by knocking aside a screen, and wound up walking through the kid's window from outside. Oscar eventually came back, but the kid didn't mind giving me a lecture when he saw me.

"You need to keep a better eye on that cat."

"I know," I said.

"He came right into my room," he said sternly, but then he brightened. "He's so nice though and he let me pet him. I gave him milk."

"It's a wonder he came back," I said.


SINCE THEN, THE KID brings up my cat whenever we see each other, and tonight was no different. Tonight, though, he ventured into new waters.

"Your cat? Is he a girl?" he asked, apparently hedging the issue.

"No," I said. "He's a boy."

"Shoot," he said.

"Why? Did you have a bet?"

"Not yet," he said and looked over at his cousin. They both looked up at me intently.

"Do you play guitar?" he asked.

"No, but I really want to learn," I said.

"You play piano?" she asked.

"Nope."

"Drums?" As I shook my head they grew increasingly incredulous. "Do you sing? Dance?"

"Only in my apartment when I'm alone," I said smiling, but they just looked up at me blankly.

"Shoot!" he said. "What do you do?"

Now it was my turn to look at them blankly. I couldn't very well tell two preteens that I spent what little free time I have drinking beer, talking on the phone, reading the New Yorker, and wandering aimlessly around Facebook.com. "I ... um... go to school." This seemed both an honest and a responsible answer. They seemed confused, but willing to take my word for it.

"You got a girlfriend?" his cousin asked shyly.

"Yeah, you got a girlfriend?" he asked. "A guy like you needs to have a girlfriend. How old are you?"

"25," I said.

"Yeah, you need a girlfriend. A guy your age needs to have a baby." He'd apparently forgotten that I can't even keep an animal to his exacting standards. You know, the standards by which you somehow manage not to lose your pet out a sixth story window.

They were in clear agreement on this baby point, however. His cousin had perked up, and looked at me like she finally understood the mystery standing before her. "My sister is 20 and she is almost done with school. She already has a baby, too!"

The kid's eyes lit up and he stepped forward, grabbing my arm and motioning for me to lean in close. I bent down. "I can hook you up with a girl," he said, and then let go of my arm. He nodded meaningfully with a very serious look on his face.

I don't need a man, I have a pussy.

THE VIDEO BELOW IS SO GENIUS, I'm jealous I didn't think of it first. Can you imagine Oscar in this delightful ensemble? I can't decide if he would submit to the torture the way he does to letting me stick my fingers between his paws and in his mouth (to prove that daddy is the boss), or if he would meow to the high heavens, crying for mercy, before finding some way to extricate himself from the getup.

I once heard that you can tell how smart an animal is by putting a paper bag over its head and seeing how long it takes for the animal to get it off. By this measure, Oscar is brilliant. Cat is out of the bag before I've even let go. My dog growing up, however, less so. You'd put the bag on his head and he'd just sit there motionless, no doubt thinking that this was some test of endurance and that there was surely a treat on the other side. Please God, let there be a treat.

Regardless, I figured that no blog is complete without the blogger introducing their loved ones. Given that I've yet to find my $200K husband at school, I'll introduce the other Mr. Wade. World (which is to say, one one billionth of it), meet Oscar.














"Now I am vaguely famous."

FourFour - "Merry Christmas from Winston and Rudy"

It's not animal abuse if you do it out of love.