Cat on a Wire

I love my cat. No surprise there, as most pet owners do develop an emotional attachment to their critters. All in all, my cat is a pretty damn good cat. Except that she loves to chew on cords.

I’ve never had a pet that has done this, so imagine my surprise when I discovered my first plugged in mass of chewed wire. Due to my keen sense of observation, I deduced it was the cat, as I could not fathom my wife crawling behind the nightstand to gnaw on my phone cord.

Compliments of my cat...
Compliments of my cat…

I then examined all the cords in the apartment and you guessed it, all chewed up.

The wife was certain that there was something wrong with the cat, as she had never heard of this before. And unfortunately for Precious, she doesn’t understand that dogs and cats react differently to forms of discipline. You can rub a dog’s nose in a puddle on your carpet and eventually he gets the message. Do the same to a cat and the only response you’re likely to get is a ‘WTF you do that for???’. Thus her idea of ‘punishment’ was not gonna cut it.

Nom, Nom , Nom....
Nom, Nom , Nom….

So I hopped on the internet and did me some investigating. And guess what? Cats chew the hell out of cords all the time. There’s nothing wrong with my cat. Go figure. Says they do it for various reasons. It could be that they’re bored. Or practicing hunting skills. Or maybe just want to play.

But for whatever reason they chew, here are 8 things you can do to protect your cords (And Fluffy).

  1. Find your cords and minimize their accessibility. No duh.
  2. Hide your cords. Another brilliant suggestion that I never would have considered.
  3. Tape all dangling cords and use cord covers.
  4. Make cords unappealing. Spray or wipe down cords with something unappealing to the cat. You can use hot sauce, lavender oil, citrus, vinegar paste, garlic, Vicks, dish soap, etc.. You will have to re-apply these periodically. Also avoid using salt, because cats love salt. Now we’re getting somewhere.
  5. Disguise cords with tape. Both foil and double sided will do the trick. Cats hate sticky stuff.
  6. Try a loud noise or rapid action to distract the cat. But you need to catch them in the act or you’ll get the ‘WTF’ cat look described earlier.
  7. Try distraction. A piece of carpet, a cardboard box, or a chewy dog toy. Also leave plenty of cat toys around. This might help if Fluffy’s just bored and needs some entertainment. I keep a piece of rope lying around.
  8. Buy some cat grass. Grow a little planter specifically for your cat because many cats feel the need to chew on grass. And if there’s no grass around, they look for the next best thing, which are cords.

Well there you have it. The fruits of my research. While I doubt only one solitary action is going to stop your little fur ball from destroying your cords, a combination of several will probably do the trick. I think I’m going to try 1, 4, 5, and 8.

And if you continue to see pictures of Precious on my wife’s Facebook page, you know it worked. If she mysteriously disappears from them….welllll, Precious probably electrocuted her way through all nine lives. Stupid cat. k

 

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

By now many of you have probably heard of the ‘Great Pacific Garbage Patch’. If not, let me enlighten you about yet another of mankinds coffin nails in Mother Earth.

The ‘Garbage Patch’ is literally a swirling mass of plastic bags, bottles, and other assorted debris floating around in the Pacific. And now the Atlantic has also given birth to it’s own Lil’ Patch.

A little example of a portion of the 'Garbage Patch'.
An example of a portion of the ‘Garbage Patch’.

Now if it was just a bunch of trash floating happily across the surface of the ocean, one would think we could just go out there and skim the sucker up. That would be awesome. Problem solved.

Butttttt…It’s not that simple. The Garbage Patch is like its own little garbage universe. Some of it’s on the surface, some is below. Some patches are big, others are smaller. Cumulatively, it has been estimated as the size of Texas. Or even larger.

And it’s mostly plastic. And plastic isn’t biodegradable. Therefore it will float in the ocean forever. It will photodegrade when exposed to sunlight, but that just makes it worse. It’s still there. Forever. In itty bitty pieces.

And that wreaks havoc on marine life. Birds that scour the oceans surface for fish eggs to feed their young mistake the small plastic for food. Sea turtles ingest plastic bags because the think they’re jellyfish.

These are floating everywhere. And they're killing our oceans.
These are floating everywhere. And they’re killing our oceans.

Photodegradation has another side effect. It begins to leach out the chemicals of the plastics into the water. Chemicals like BPA.

It’s estimated that 80% of the garbage comes from land, much of it is consumer products. That’s right. We are the cause of this mess, and we need to get our shit together.

We are a society of convenience. It’s easier and more convenient to purchase water in plastic bottles. The same bottles that we are polluting our oceans with. How stupid is that?

We're such worthless slobs.
We’re such worthless slobs.

We need to start reusing and recycling. We need to start paying attention to what we are doing to this planet. We need to stop being lazy, selfish pigs. Because time is running out.   k

 

Southern: A Whole New Language

Being a displaced Yankee, I’m being forced to learn an entire new language that I fondly refer to as Southern. Every demographic has their own vernacular, but the one with the most differences seems to be the South vs. North.

I’ve been in Florida about six months now, and I find myself slipping back and forth between “You all” and “Y’all”. At times I’m sure it sounds like some distorted mix of urban English and Pig Latin. But when in Rome….

I’ve picked out the top 5 Southern words which I seem to have problems converting to, in no order in particular.

#5. Soda or Coke vs. Pop.

Here's a nice little visual for you.
Here’s a nice little visual for you.

If it’s not being referred to as Coke, the next choice here is soda. I have no clue what Kiel is, though. Might have to look into this strange animal…

#4. Buggy vs. Cart

Don't let the map fool you, it's still overwhelmingly a buggy in Florida.
Don’t let the map fool you, it’s still overwhelmingly a buggy in Florida.

I seem to have the biggest problem with this one due to my job. Unfortunately I encounter a massive amount of carts, I mean buggies, every day.

#3. Pocketbook vs. Purse

The southern version of a purse.
The southern version of a purse.

I don’t have too big of a problem concerning this one. You wouldn’t catch me carrying either.

#2. Clicker vs Remote

A universal 'clicker'.
A universal ‘clicker’.
A southern 'clicker', a northern 'remote'.
A southern ‘clicker’, a northern ‘remote’.

In my experience, using the garage door opener, i.e. ‘clicker’, to change the channel will result in failure.

#5. Sweeper vs. Vacuum

A southern 'sweeper', a northern 'vacuum'.
A southern ‘sweeper’, a northern ‘vacuum’.
This bad boy is a 'sweeper' in the north. Do not use it on indoor carpet...
This bad boy is a ‘sweeper’ in the north. Do not use it on indoor carpet…

I’m sure there are many more. And I’m sure the longer I live in Florida, the more I will learn and adopt.

I just hope I don’t start sounding like a redneck. That’s where I have to draw the line. If I do, I hope that one of my peeps from the north set’s me straight. Got to stay true to my roots, y’all.     k

Gee Kris, What Exactly is a Wigger???

What exactly is a ‘wigger’??? I’m so glad you asked.

For those of you still unfamiliar with the term, it’s exactly what it looks like. But here’s the definition from Wikipedia for those who have trouble putting two and two together.

Wigger (Common spelling ‘wigga’) is a slang term for a white person who emulates mannerisms, language, and fashion associated with African American culture. The term is a combination of white and nigger.

All hail Kevin Federline, the 'Original' wigger!!! Thanks, bro!!!
All hail Kevin Federline, the ‘Original’ wigger!!! Thanks, bro!!!

And Florida is crawling with them. They’re everywhere. Just like cockroaches.

There’s your Stage 1, or as I fondly call them, the thug-let wigger. Just a kid, parents are lower to middle class. A ‘wannabe’. Basically just a nuisance.

Just a stupid little teenager who doesn't know any better.
Just a stupid little teenager who doesn’t know any better.

Unfortunately many do not out grow this stage and become stage 2 wiggers. These idiots are most likely in juvie, if still in school at all. Many find out in this stage that they’re going to be a ‘baby daddy’ for the first time.

I don't need a damn job!!! I got my music, bae!!!
I don’t need a damn job!!! I got my music, bae!!!

At this stage, there are still some tools out there that don’t quite understand that living in the back bedroom of your baby mammas parents double wide ( That’s a mouthful!!!) is not all it’s cracked up to be. These morons keep chasin’ the dream that they’re badass and gonna be famous, while living off everyone else’s dime.

If they don’t wake up at this point, they turn into….

Stage 3 wiggers. These are your wiggers in their twenties and thirties. They usually have an entire basketball team of dependents, all with different mothers.

Wigger baby mammas, or ho's, or whatever you want to call them.
Wigger baby mammas, or ho’s, or whatever you want to call them.
Yo, dog!!! How's that album that you've been working on for the last 15 years goin'???
Yo, dog!!! How’s that album that you’ve been working on for the last 15 years goin’???

This stage is the scariest, because it easily segues into white trash loser tweeker.  Also, they’ve been so dependent on everyone else, there is little hope for them to ever provide for themselves in the wild.

We know very little about the Stage 4 wigger. As this is a fairly recent phenomenon, there is virtually no credible data available at this time. As soon as some comes in, I will let you know.

And that boys and girls is what a wigger is. There will be a test on Monday.   k

 

 

 

Please Don’t Feed the Wildlife!!!

I got to see up close and personal one of the reasons you should feed the wildlife.

It was Sunday, and everyone knows that according to my religion, I must be out in the sun on Sundays. I don’t know why everyone doesn’t practice this. To me it’s a no brainer. Sun + day = Sunday. Can’t get any clearer than that.

So we get up early, load the jeep up with our gear and head to Fort Desoto. And it is a beautiful day, I might add.

We get out there and march our happy asses out to the south pier. There we set up camp. Yes, I said camp. Because when you go fishing with Leigh Ann you bring everything.

This was a different trip, but you get the idea.
This was a different trip, but you get the idea.

Now all over the Fort Desoto pier, there are signs that say don’t feed the wildlife. As a matter of fact, everywhere I’ve been to so far has signs that state clearly ‘Do Not Feed The Wildlife’. I totally get this and support it. It’s one of the worst things you can do to a wild creature.

Example #1: Pretty clear, is it not???
Example #1: Pretty clear, is it not???

The problem is, these idiots who think ‘Awwww, it’s ok if little Johnny does it this time. It won’t be that big of a deal. And look how cute he is!!!’

Wrong.

Yes, that is a pelican on the end of that gentlemen's fishing pole.
Yes, that is a pelican on the end of that gentlemen’s fishing pole.

You see, the birds have been eating the shrimp that Johnny and Susie have been tossing to them all day. You know, because it’s just so darn cute. So when a fisherman reels in his catch, the birds think it’s for them. And gets a lovely barbed hook imbedded in it’s beak.

The removal of the hook.
The removal of the hook.

Yeah. Real cute.

So how about you obey the signs. They’re there for a reason. And you and your family are not exempt from following them, no matter how cute you think your kids look.

And yes, just this one time can hurt. Ask this pelican. I’m sure he’d tell you if his beak wasn’t all ripped up.    k

(The bird was lucky. He was a bit sore, and I’m sure and not to thrilled. But he was basically unharmed. This time.)

 

Pothole or Sinkhole??? You be the Judge.

When I moved to Florida, I had no idea that I was going to trade one hole for another. (Shame on you!! Get your mind out of the gutter!!) What I’m referring to is trading potholes for sinkholes.

Anyone who has driven in the Midwest or further north is more than likely familiar with what locals term as ‘pothole season.’ For those who aren’t, here’s a little diagram on how these automotive nightmares are created.

Water seeps in the cracks, freezes and presto!!!

Pretty basic science.
Pretty basic science.
And the end result. Yeah.
And the end result. Yeah.

This wreaks havoc on your vehicle. Messes up your alignment, flattens tires, rips the entire suspension up, you name it. Plus both passengers and drivers alike have been known to suffer injuries such as sore backs, stiff necks, bitten tongues.

Now on to sinkholes.

My understanding is that Florida (especially central Florida, where I reside) is made up of carbonate rock (limestone and dolostone). This is overlain with layers of clay. Carbonate rocks store and transmit groundwater.

Handy dandy diagram!!!
Handy dandy diagram!!!

Through a chemical process, thanks to said groundwater, these carbonate rocks can dissolve. And viola!!! Sinkhole!!!

Winter Park sinkhole. Damn.
Winter Park sinkhole. Damn.

At least with a pothole, its an ongoing visible process. With a sinkhole, it’s more of a “Surprise!!! I just swallowed your house!!!”

Oh, and death is a much higher probability if you’re being sucked to the center of the earth. Just pointing that out. (Sorry, Mom.)

But with sinkholes you have lot less ‘volume’. They’re more geographically spaced out.

Ah, potholes are easier to repair, though. Unless you live in Sioux Falls, SD. There’s been the mother of all potholes in front of the Empire Mall on South Louise for at least four years. That sucker could swallow a Fiat. Maybe it’s really a sinkhole??? Aliens???

Back to my point.

Anywhere you go, you’re going to trade one thing for another. Bad or good. It could be sinkhole for pothole. Could be earthquake for flooding. Tornado for hurricane. Beach for snow…:)

If you’re looking for the perfect place, you’re not going to find it. It’s just not there. Just enjoy the good and deal with the bad.

And at the present time, I pick sinkhole.    k