I Always Knew There was Something Wrong with People who Hate Cats

On Bethenny Ever After, Bethenny said, "Humor trumps professionalism."

I totally agree.

I have been known to play jokes at work. It is just too much fun. For me.

You would never guess I'm such a menace.

But I am. There is a glimmer in the eye, you see?



Years ago, I decided to play a joke on a previous supervisor on MY birthday. I had heard whispers that people were planning to prank me for my birthday. So, I thought, I'll strike first! Bwa, ha, ha!

Anyone who knows me should know that this is a compliment if I will spend time to play a joke on you. I thought my old boss knew that.

He was quite the family guy with pictures all over his office of his gorgeous little ones - twins! - and his wife.

He hated cats.

On his birthday, I waited around until he was gone to break into his office.

I had printed some really, really great pictures of cats off the Internet with a color printer. Pictures like these:


























I am not a total menace. I CAREFULLY removed his family pictures - every last one - out of the frames and CAREFULLY placed them in a ziploc bag and CAREFULLY placed the bag in my desk.

Then, I put the cat pictures in all of his frames around his office.

I came into work the next morning, giddy, excited for the absurd hilarity to cause loud laughing and guffaws from everyone, including my boss.

The front secretary was near tears. "Kristy, he's looking for you. He is so upset. I didn't even want him to know that I knew about it!"

"What?! Are you kidding me?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No! He's pissed!"

I was incredulous, and I felt bad that I had involved our poor, dear secretary in the heinous act.

I went to my office, still not believing anything had gone wrong. Who wouldn't think that filling a cat-hater's picture frames with ridiculous pictures of cats wasn't funny?!

He was there to talk to me. He shut the door.

He explained how precious his family pictures were to him. "Of course I know that! Look!" I exclaimed as I got out the CAREFULLY saved pictures and explained just how careful I had been. It didn't help.

He said he felt that someone was intending to be a menace to him. Someone was "threatening him." Giving him the what-for, if you will.

To that, I exclaimed, "No, no, no! Don't you think it's funny that I put CATS in your picture frames? You hate cats! Ha, ha..." I trailed off, as he was not softening and did not laugh along.

Wow, the dude was TOTALLY serious.

In spite of myself, I went on, "Don't you realize what today is?"

He looked at me blankly.

"It's my birthday!" I said.

He looked at me blankly.

"I thought you guys were planning to prank me on my birthday, and I thought I would do this before you had a chance to do anything to me! That's all!" I said.

He seemed to soften his demeanor at that a little. I apologized profusely. He managed to say, "It's ok." I CAREFULLY replaced the pictures.

But I kept the pictures of the cats. I'd take them out every once in a while and have a good fucking laugh.

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This week's RemembeRED memoir prompt at Write on Edge was to recall a prank that did not have the results you intended.



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To my bloggy friends who noticed my absence as of late, I was on Spring Break. But, I'm back. And doing the best I can.

Wine a Bit. You'll Feel Better.

The RemembeRED memoir prompt at Write on Edge this week is to write about wine, coffee, or chocolate.

One of the best vacations my husband and I have ever taken was in the wine country. Are you surprised? I didn’t think so.



We talk about it all the time like it is part of an era gone by. Vacations are a whole lot different nowadays with a child.

We had been to Sonoma before this trip. This particular trip was more off-the-beaten-path, north of Sonoma/Napa, north of Santa Rosa. We were in the Dry Creek and Russian River Valley around Healdsburg and Windsor. We stayed an entire week at a small resort and mostly did biking tours of the surrounding wineries. (It helps that I have experience with biking and drinking as I explained here.)



Although I would never call myself an athletic-type, I can kick ass physically sometimes. I just typically keep my prowess on the down low.

The hazy memories I can recollect include the fact that a majority of the pourers at the wineries were intoxicated at some level. Rarely, did we pay for a tasting, and the pours were typically generous.

The most memorable winery was Christopher Creek. We happened upon it by accident down a gravel road. The pourer was a warm, friendly man with a generous spirit. The grounds were simple, but the views amazing, so we bought a bottle and picnicked there.



Armida was interesting as well. The vineyard dog greeted us at the entrance and walked us up to the tasting room. Once inside, he passed out at our feet. The pourer inside was blasting Pearl Jam and seemed to be quite intoxicated. He sold us on a special vintage called “Poizin” – a Zinfandel.

We biked over this bridge a few times on our journeys over the Russian River.



We took two days off from biking while we were there to enjoy the resort pool. So, if we were not drinking and biking, we were drinking and swimming.





We had no child at the time. We would roll up to the pool with our cooler and plastic cups. When laying in the sun, I listened to my iPod. At the time, I listened a lot to Gorillaz, specifically Clint Eastwood:

"I ain't happy but, I'm feeling glad
I got sunshine, in a bag
I'm useless, but not for long
The future is coming on...

Finally someone let me out of my cage!
Now, time for me is nothing 'cause I'm counting no age."

I could barely hear Richard laughing at me as I sang and rapped along to the tune no one could hear but me.

I am now totally lost in reverie, hoping for warmer weather and moments of lying like broccoli with ENTIRE VINEYARDS of wine nearby. Sigh. Summer?? Vacation?? I need you now…

Horror Story

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I do not watch horror movies anymore. There have been requests to hear the story behind that.

It was a dark, stormy night in rural New York (ok, maybe it wasn’t stormy or completely rural, but it was dark and…suburban).

I was visiting my best friend. Her husband, two children, and dogs had all retired for the evening, and we were up drinking wine and talking. We decided to choose a movie.

We thought a horror flick sounded fun. We chose High Tension from the list and settled in, ready for the adrenaline rush of boogey-men and things-that-go-bump-in-the-night.

It was the most banal, chilling, and frightening shit I’d ever seen. I think I lasted about a half hour before I insisted my friend turn it off.

It was e-vil. Like the fru-its of the de-vil. (Bonus points for anyone who recognizes that quote.)

I was scarred – for life, apparently.

When we decided to throw in the towel and go to bed, I retreated to the guest room…in the basement. Not only was I in the scary, scary basement (it was actually a very nice room), but there was also a door to the backyard in the guest room.

I was in the bed in the dark trying so hard to be thirty years old and brave. I started to have a panic attack.

I still feel silly admitting it! I had trouble breathing. I felt a loud ringing in my ears. All I wanted to do was RUN. Run upstairs. Find people. Find help. Hug someone.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran upstairs straight into my best friend’s bedroom. I stood by the bed. You know, like a total, crazed moron.

There she slept with her baby boy close to her, her husband sleeping soundly, and one of the dogs at the foot of the bed.

I considered my options. I looked at the hard wood floor. I contemplated curling up on the rug at the end of the bed.

She sensed my presence, and being the bestest best friend one could ever have, she scooted over and lifted the covers up, silently letting me crawl right in.

I was so grateful. Everything was right with the world again. I took up as minimal space as possible right on the edge of the bed, and I couldn’t remember ever feeling more comfortable.

Next thing I knew, it was morning. I looked up and saw her husband staring incredulously at everyone in the bed.

I was very embarrassed. I laid my head back down and pretended to keep sleeping.

In the middle of the night, her other boy had also crawled into bed with all of us. It was a very full bed and is now one of the fondest memories I have of that precious family.

You may think your life is full enough – with your children, dogs, and husband all in your bed on a weekend morning. But, it is not as full as it could be.

I could be there too. Edging my way in, making myself at home, clutching whatever space I’m given.

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