I'd like to thank the academy...

...and of course my tagger (and one of my favorite blogettes), Tara from The Like of a Newly Wife for honoring me with the Blogger BFF Award. Thankfully, I don't have to answer any questions or tell you anything interesting about myself (unfortunately for you folks, cause I've got tons of that up my sleeve), because it's late and I'm super tired. Thank you, Tara! I love reading Tara's blogs, because it's almost certain that I can relate to something she's writing about on any given day. Like myself, Tara is a newlywed (we actually got married on the SAME day) and new at taking on the housewifey task of cooking. I'm sure we'll have plenty of failed recipes to share in the future... maybe even in person one day, if she could convince Mr. Newly Husband to take a trip north to DC! ;)

Anywhozits, the rules say I have to pass this along to 5 bloggers that I would like to get wasted (ahem... I mean... have a few sophisticated drinks) with. I'm going to cheat a bit and choose my favorite bloggers from The Nest. I find that I have much in common with these girls, and so obviously we'd all have a blast together. Plus, their blogs are awesome and I feel the need to pass them along so others can enjoy the hilarity that is their writing.



1. Erinn at Strawberry Swing and other Things - I heart Erinn. She's witty, smart, opinionated, and not to mention adorable. I think we would have a blast if we ever had a GTG, especially if that GTG included a shopping trip or discussions of celebs and home decor. andplusalso, her hubby is pretty freaking hot. just sayin.

2. Lindsey at Lindseli in London - ello govna! Lindsey and I go way back to our early Knotting days, with the football smack talk (which she always wins, cause let's face it, no female knows football better than Lindsey) and our line recitals of HIMYM and The Office episodes. In fact, we would probably play the Robin Scherbatsky's drinking game at our GTG.

3. Sarah at SemiAutobiogRApHical - the poop to my sauce. Once upon a time (and still recently), Sarah has offered sound advice to some of my hectic life's problems. I think she's a great woman with a fab sense of humor, and gorgeous face to boot! I'm almost positive that drinks between her and I would surely end in a burping contest, which obviously, I'm game for.

4. Krystyna at This Love of Life - Krystyna is hilarious, and although her blog is pretty new, like mine, I already look forward to her new posts. I love her writing style and her outlook on life, as well as her list of "loves" in one of her entries. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that we will have a real life GTG when/if she visits the DC area in March!

and last, but certainly not least...

5. Andrea at the blue house on the corner - Even though we've never met in person, I'd consider Andrea a real life friend. We gchat, we text sometimes, and damnit, if I lived in Canada, I'd FOR SURE stalk the shit out of her. We have a common love of felines and a common hate of pity parties. She is also the clever lady responsible for my awesome fo fawesome banner at the top of my blog. Andrea and her loving (and handy!) husband have decided to self perform all the renovations in their new home, which is mainly what she writes about in her blog.



Thanks again, Tara! And happy almost Friday to everyone else! :D

Schmoop fest, table for one!

Okay, so this is going to be a little different than my previous posts. No poop stories, no dead baby jokes, no sarcasm (well... maybe a little), and definitely no negativity.

I adore my husband. With Valentine's Day right around the corner, I've been feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, and it's not because of the Ambien, like usual. Normally we don't do a lot for V-Day, and we probably won't change that tradition this year, but still - a day dedicated to love makes me feel pretty damn lucky.

It's nearly impossible to think of a time that I didn't know Mr. MandeeFoFandee... a time when I knew absolutely nothing about him, other than his name. A time that I wasn't aware of his ice cream addiction, and his love of classic rock. A time before I knew that he despised ranch dressing, but had an unnatural affection for BBQ sauce. A time that I thought I was the only person who loved "The Boondock Saints" enough to place it at the top of my favorite movies list. A time when I believed that I never wanted to get married, or even think about bearing demons... ahem... children.

In summer 2007, my best friend dragged me out of my hibernation of depression and anxiety (which I had masked as a possible case of IBS, and even went as far as to have a colonoscopy to prove it) to go away for the weekend to Ocean City. OC is a place much like the infamous Jersey Shore - full of trash, but great entertainment if you know the right spots. I hesitated, but agreed in the end, because my best friend had just met a guy, and wanted to meet up with him and his friends in OC, but obviously did not want to venture out alone. So there we are, in our hotel room (which amounted to about $40 a night, so you can imagine how luxurious it was), drinking beer (ahem... I was NOT drinking, due to my recent stomach issues), and waiting for the men folk to arrive, who were staying in the same hotel... just a few rooms down the hall. I should also mention that my best friend and her new beau had been trying to hook me and S up for a little while, but we were just never in the same place at the same time. Now, back to the story - the door is propped open, and S walks in. I damn near have to pick my jaw up off the floor, because "GOD DAMN, who is that handsome chunk of man flesh that just walked in our room?!" Sure enough, it was the guy I'd been hearing soooo much about. Honestly, I was really hoping S would turn out to be a giant douchebag, because he was way too good looking to actually be a "great guy." We didn't talk much the first night, but I did offer him my dead skin peeling services for his poor burned legs, which had been abused by the sun the weekend before. No shame in my game, playa.


The second day we were in OC, a bunch of us went to the beach for the day. The beach was crowded, so we sneaked into the pool at the nearby Hilton. When the drink girl came by asking for wrist bracelets, I just told them we were checking in that day, and therefore our reservation wasn't on her handy dandy spreadsheet. I'm devious like that. S shows up at the pool a little later, and to my surprise, strikes up a conversation with me. Turns out, he has struggled with extreme anxiety for years, and he thinks that my stomach issues could be just that. I also learn that I am, in fact, NOT the only person who adores "The Boondock Saints" to the point of obsession. After the pool conversation, we all headed back over to our respective hotel rooms to get ready to hit the town.

During our walk on the boardwalk in our large group of 20 somethings, we hang in the back, getting to know each other better. I don't remember what we talked about, but I guess it doesn't really matter. We all went to dinner, hit up a bar on the boardwalk, and then made our way to the party block on 17th street, where the liquor reaaaaally started to flow (with everyone else except myself... stomach issues, ya know). S was getting quite intoxicated - he and E (best friend's beau) were drinking all the tube shots they could get their hands on, in order to see which girl would have the most glow bracelets on their wrists by the end of the night. We totally won, in case you were wondering. At some point during the night, I realized that I was staring at S... kind of stalkerish staring. My best friend noticed (as she should), and bet me that I wouldn't make the first move. With that said, I walked up to him at the bar, pretended like I had to tell him a secret, and planted a big one right on his gorgeous mouth. From that point on, we were making out all night (klassssssy). We got back to our hotel, and he thought it would be an excellent idea to throw me in the pool... with ALL of my clothes on. I tried to be angry with him, but I had to respect the balls he had to throw someone completely sober (and clothed!) into a pool. I tried to hang as long as I could, but being that I was not wasted, I couldn't keep my eyes open much longer. I said goodnight, and went to my room. And in case you were wondering, I went to my room ALONE. Perverts.

this was one of our first pictures together... before the trip into the pool.

The following day, we all got up and planned to head out and go our separate ways. I found myself rambling about S the entire car ride home. My best friend got his number from E, and as they say, the rest is history. We had our first date a week later, and have been together ever since. We couldn't get enough of each other, and we fell in love quickly. I loved everything about him - the way he was so laid back and sort of shy, but still confident. The way he cared immensely about his family and friends. And most importantly, the way he climbed the walls I had built up around me for years in order to protect myself. The way he MADE me get close to him, and let my guard down. He allowed me to see myself in a different way. He made me feel safe and protected, and he brought out the best in me. I could be myself around him, and he loved me as MandeeFoFandee. And all this doesn't mean he totally kissed my ass either, cause that was not the case at ALL. Trust me, he called me out on my bullshit when he thought I was wrong, and he let me know when/if I was out of line (more when than if). Honestly, I loved every minute of it. It was refreshing to be with someone who knew exactly who he was, and who had strong opinions. I loved his honesty, and his knowledge of himself, and that he wasn't afraid to share that with me.

here are a few pictures from the beginning of our relationship:

It's nice to remember our relationship early on, when it was so fresh and new. Of course, our relationship is still as wonderful as it was then, but it's a different kind of wonderful. It's the kind of wonderful that means knowing almost everything there is to know about each other, and still smiling at the end of the day. It's the kind of amazing that allows you to ignore the annoying flaws (which trust me, we both have plenty of), and embrace the good spirits. It's the kind of wonderful that makes Valentine's Day a fuzzy and warm day, and not just some Hallmark created holiday.

I was perusing MySpace for the first time in a loooong time today, and I found this blog that I had written back in March of 2007. I had dated (and I use that term loosely) a guy who ended up being a giant tool... and so I wrote this blog as a sort of guideline for myself... if a guy didn't make at least 5 of these traits, he was date material only... nothing long term. And as it turns out, S meets all of these... except the Redskins one.

Here's the blog I wrote on March 2nd, 2007. Little did I know, I'd be meeting the man who would change my cynical ways in just a short few months.

I want a man...
... that is proud to call me HIS.
... who will let me pay for dinner sometimes.
... that wants to show me off to his friends.
... who won't compliment me all the time, but when it's honest & true.
... who loves the Washington Redskins more than I do.
... that will let me bury him in the sand at the beach.
... who isn't jealous or possessive.
... who will make me laugh until my stomach aches.
... who will love every flaw on my body.
... that loves his mother.
... that lets me have my privacy and isn't stuck up my ass all the time.
... who will impress my friends on the first meeting.
... who's not afraid to be himself.
... that will have thumb wrestling tournaments with me & not let me win.
... that will tell me if an outfit I'm wearing looks dumb.
... who won't let me critique myself physically.
... who can get approval from my dad without kissing his ass.
... who will have debates with me about heated topics.
... that will express his opinions freely & not second guess himself.
... that will make fun of me when I'm crying over a chick flick.
... who won't spoil me, but simply treat me the way I deserve.
... who is confident and secure with himself.
... that will let his guard down when he's ready.
... who will make me want to be a better person.
... who will sit in the bathroom and talk to me while I poop.
... that makes me feel like the sexiest woman alive.
... who won't back down in a fight with me.
... who makes me love myself even more than I already do.
... that I can have fun with.

... who will want me to delete this blog because he knows he's IT.

Don't worry, I won't be deleting this blog, but I did delete the other one. Damn you, V-Day. I'm never usually all mushy and shit about my marriage, but for some reason, I've been feeling the need to share about it lately. Until next time, hookers!


PS - He doesn't sit in the bathroom with me while I poop... we just poop with the door open.

It's Friday. Let's be random.

A little random never hurt anyone right? Well... maybe if she came with AIDS and baby daddy drama.

Random things I love. Here we go.

1. I'm pretty sure the only thing I love more than Fridays are football Sundays. Football Sundays consist of Mr. MandeeFoFandee and myself plopping ourselves on the couch (in our respective jerseys, of course - Ravens for him, and Redskins for me) and watching football all day long. Preseason, regular season, post season... doesn't matter, as long as it's a good game. Obviously I'd prefer to watch games in which the Redskins are victorious, but let's be honest... those days are rare. Sometimes it's just nice to have a day where you absolutely nothing.



2. Shoes. I love shoes. And I'm not talking about $300 killer heels that would likely cause me to suffer a broken neck. I'm talking about the Birkenstock sandals that I wore for years. Unfortunately, one of the cats had a little "accident" IN THEM and I had to toss them out - they were so worn out and beaten up that a toss in the wash would surely destroy them. They're not the cutest, but they're the comfiest shoes I've ever owned. I wish I could be the kind of girl who can just throw on a pair of heels to wear to the bar, but alas, I'm not. For one thing, I'm already pretty tall (5'-8") and I hate being taller than S in public. Two... I'm not the most graceful creature on the planet, and I trip over my own BAREfeet, so you can imagine what happens when I add a few inches. And lastly, they're just NOT comfortable for me, and I refuse to wear something that causes pain.



3. For as long as I can remember, I've had a strange affection for weird animals. While I adore cats and want to adopt every single one I come into contact with, I consider my top three favorite animals to be hippos, polar bears, and alligators. I'm not sure why, but it's true. I think it's because they're all really cute when they're babies. Hippos are freaking badass. Male hippos tend to keep their space bubble clear of intruders by flinging their poo at other male hippos. Polar bears are so cute and cuddly. Alligators are extremely cool to me... they've been around for thousands of years, and are still pretty high up on the food chain.



4. A good poop. This one is pretty obvious, and since it's not TMI Tuesday, I won't elaborate further... nor will I couple this with a picture.

5. Dead baby jokes. I know, I know, they're offensive, but I'm not exactly the most PC person on the planet, now am I? I think they're hilarious... maybe it's because I don't have kids, but I'm pretty sure that even if I gave birth to a little demon, I would still joke about why you put it in a blender feet first. I've always cared more about animals than I do people, and therefore I can't stand jokes that involve dead animals. I can't even watch freaking Animal Planet when the hungry lion is trying to catch a fleeing gazelle for it's cubs. But I can bet you $100 that if they had a show that concentrated on people (aka fucking idiots) who move to Florida in the everglades and then wonder why an alligator ate their small child... I'd be all up in that shit as long as they had footage of the attack.



Random things I hate. This could possibly be a long list.

1. People who move to Florida (more specifically, areas that are highly populated with alligators) and then freakthefuckout when their dog, cat, or small person disappear from their backyard. Uhh... what did you think was going to happen when you decided to move your entire family (including the tasty little human) to a place where this alligator has lived it's ENTIRE LIFE? Did you think he would just sign over the deed and let you have the property where he/she raised it's babies for years? No, bitch, I don't think so. And by the way, why was your dog or child out in the backyard alone anyway... especially when you're living in godforsaken alligator country? I should be an alligator activist. I'm pretty sure it would work out.



2. Shaving my legs. I'm so lazy when it comes to shaving. In the summer, and only if I'm wearing shorts, I'll shave my legs up to my knee, since the hair is pretty light above the knee. In the winter... you'll be lucky if I shave a total of three times. I'm very aware that it's pretty disgusting, but I don't care. It's too cold in the winter to shave (even in the shower)... plus, I think the hair helps me to stay warm. Don't judge... it's not like you have to touch them.




PS - don't ever Google Image search "hairy legs" at work. holy hairy vagina everywhere.

3. Cliche tattoos, specifically tramp stamps. I won't go into more detail, as I really don't want to offend someone. I know what you're thinking... "Mandee... being courteous?" I know, it's crazy. Consider it a happy Friday gift.

4. The alarm clock. If I could go back in time and stop anything from being invented, it would be the fucking alarm clock. I hate when I'm dreaming, and then all of a sudden, I hear this annoying noise, and I'm all like "whatthehellisthat?!!" in my dream... before waking up and realizing it's my alarm going off. I think people would be a lot happier without alarm clocks.
I know a lot of people are jobless right now, so I think it would be awesome to hire someone and have them wake me in the morning to the fresh scent of blueberry coffee and pancakes. I sure as hell would be a lot happier in the mornings.


Thank you, kind stranger! This is much more pleasant than waking to some annoying song from my cell phone.

5. While we're on the subject, I'll go ahead and add cell phones used as alarm clocks. You know how you get a cell phone, and you're listening for that perfect tone to be used for your alarm? It always ends up being the most annoying fucking sound your phone could possibly make, because you know it's the only thing that will get your lazy ass out of bed in the morning. Either that, or, cause you to throw your cell phone across the room when you hear it go off. Of course, I've neeeever done that...


Alright, that's all I got for today, folks. That was a lot longer than I expected it to be. Told you, I have a lot to say.

Happy weekend!

I haz teh header picture! See? Up there! ^

Thanks to the ever-so-amazing Andrea, I have an awesome and crazy cute header now. I absolutely adore it. And I get to look at my little Bear Claw face all day long now, which is always spectacular. So... thank YOU times a million, Andrea! If you're interested in seeing what hard work looks like, pop on over to her place (here) to check out the renovations her and her husband have been doing all by themselves. Crazy folks, I tell ya.

Now. I know I said I wasn't going to tell Mr. MandeeFoFandee (also known as S) about the blog, but I was so excited, I couldn't resist. In fact, I spilled the beans the minute I walked into my house on Tuesday after work. Our conversation went a little like this:

Me: Hey, I'm home. (and also arriving tres late, since I was busy at work... writing my first blog entry and all)
S: Hey, it's about time. How was your day?
Me: It was awesome, wanna know why?
S: Sure.
Me: I started a blog.
S: Oh jesus.
Me: If you laugh, you will NEVER read it. EVAR.

- insert the hysterical laughing of Mr. MandeeFoFandee here -

Jerk. Even though he's a total asshat, and still makes fun of me, I let him read it last night. He now seems to be pretty supportive, since I'm fucking hilarious in writing, apparently. Now I can threaten him with "if you do ______, I'm going to blog about the time you ________." Pretty genius, if I say so myself. It's like having the super star of blackmail outlets. Take that, husband.

__________________________________________________________________________________

In other news, I've been searching the D&R (Decorating & Renovating) message board over on The Nest for inspiring home blogs. I'm pretty sure I found two (scratch that... three) of the best home decor blogs I've ever come across, and I thought I'd share them for anyone else looking for a little motivation to get their homes in tip top shape.

1. Decorating Obsessed - Ashley is a graphic designer, and therefore has a natural "eye" for all things design. I love her style - her shades of violet modern-glam Hollywood living room & dining room are absolutely to die for. She also has some handy organization tips for those of us who seem to be more... uh... cluttered.

2. sunshine and wine - Suzanne is a 20 something living in Kansas City. She is total DIY-er when it comes to home decor, and it's really refreshing to see someone create such beautiful pieces and NOT spending a fortune doing it. I have a feeling I'll be stealing some of her techniques and ideas for myself! andplusalso, her dogs are adorable. just sayin.

3. Young House Love - I know I'm super late to this party, since they've been showcased in magazines and TV and shit, but I'm immediately obsessed. Just thought I'd share that. Oh, and once again, this great find is also thanks to Andrea, who obviously does not want me to get any work done. ever.

That's all I got for now. It's been a hectic and busy day here at work, and this is the first chance I've had to sit down and relax. In fact, I haven't even eaten lunch yet. I should probably get on that.

If you care to share, tell me about your favorite blogs!

Craptastic (TMI Alert)!

WARNING: If you are not comfortable talking (or even reading) about the gloriousness that is a good bowel movement, do not read any further.

If the curiosity is killing you, however, please do read on.

First, I'd like to mention that I had the day off yesterday, so naturally, today felt like Monday. I got up (late, as usual), showered, brushed my teeth and went about my morning routine. I stopped at the 7-11 near my home, and picked up a 20oz coffee and two bottles of Dr. Pepper, as usual. Paid with my check card, as usual.


Mmm. Delish.

I drove to work, listened to Elliot in the Morning on DC 101, as usual. Got to work, and got settled in, which consists of checking my work email, checking my personal email, checking in on The Nest, checking Facebook, and reading the new blogs that appear on my Google Reader (and commenting accordingly)... all while sipping my delicious 20oz cup of sugar, with a little coffee and creamer added. Totes usual.

And as usual, about 20 minutes after I finished my coffee, I felt the rumblings. The monster rumblings of my daily morning bowels. This is part of my daily routine. I drink my coffee, and then I poop, and then I'm ready to take on the day that is upon me and make it my bitch.


Yep. I own this book.

Something about these rumblings was not normal. I didn't have the strength in my abs to let it "marinate" like I usually do. I like to let it simmer for a bit before I actually go to the restroom, so that it involves the least amount of pushing as possible. I told you, I have a routine, and damnit, I stick to it! This demon inside of me would not allow for the marinating period. I had to rush to the bathroom to do the binness.

As I sit on the toilet (I should also mention that I work in a very small office, consisting of a total of 5 people, including myself, and we only have one bathroom), I could tell that this was not going to be the usual "sit, relax, wipe" session that I have on a daily basis. What erupted from my body was the fiery passion that once was an entire bag of pistachios that I consumed over the long weekend. It burned. It splattered. Most importantly, it was NOT quiet, which is totally NOT usual.

Now, if you know me, you know I'm not shy about my bowels (obviously). But this was an ASSplosion. I was imagining my poor coworker in the office outside the bathroom cringing (and possibly laughing) as the demon escaped my rear end. It was nuclear. I tried to be quiet about it, I really did. I tried to let just a little out at a time, I tried running the sink water to mask the sound... it just was NOT happening.


THIS is what occurred in my workplace toilet.

Finally, I'm done. I wipe, wash my hands, open the window, spray a copious amount of flowery smelling Lysol, and I leave the bathroom... making sure to shut the door behind me. I even considered making a sign, warning coworkers not to enter the bathroom for at LEAST 20 minutes. I'm telling you - that shit was hazardous.

And as usual, I walk outside to have my post-bowel cigarette. I'm puffing away, enjoying the beautiful weather that has recently graced itself upon Maryland, and it hit me again. Those fucking rumblings. I thought "eh, I just went... there's no way I have to go again ALREADY," and I attempted to finish my nicotine stick. Was.Not.Happening. I flicked the cherry off my cigarette and sprinted to the bathroom. (Insert another descriptive ASSplosion here).

This inconvenience happened to me FOUR times today. FOUR TIMES! I couldn't believe it. I'm a pretty regular shitter, and I go usually about two times a day. And those two times are NORMAL, not the painful diarrhea I experienced FOUR TIMES today. I know it's the pistachios and all their deliciousness.


Mmm. Come here, my pretties.

I should probably mention that I consume an ungodly amount of pistachios if I get my hands on them. I generally buy two bags at a time, and finish a bag in a matter of days. I eat about a 16oz cup worth of shells at each sitting... unless my mouth burns from the salt before the cup is full. I'd like to say that my hellish poops today will caution me from devouring pistachios in the future, but I know it won't.

Perhaps I should take after LiLu and start a weekly TMI post. TMI Tuesdays? I guess it fits.



... that's what she said.

First Entry, Fo Fentry.

Hi! I'm Mandee (FoFandee). I'm totally new to the blogging world, but I feel like I have a lot to say, so why not say it to the whole wide Interwebz? I'm still working on making my space funky and personal and offensive, so bare with me (or Bear with me, whichever you choose).

Some interesting things (or not so much) about me:
I married my soul mate (awww, mush) on August 8, 2009. Here's a picture of us being all cute and shit at our wedding.




He's pretty cool, I guess. We had a kickass wedding and and even more fabulous honeymoon in Hawaii. If I were smart, like my friend Erinn, I would have documented our trip, but instead, I got drunk at the pool everyday and ate too much. And had a little sex in between. Oh yeah, I cage dived (dove? what tense would that be?) with sharks too.

I'd also like to note here that the husband laughs at my ideas for a blog, and therefore will NOT be told about my little space here on the Web... unless he cooks me a really awesome meal... because then it might just slip out (that's what she said) due to taste bud euphoria.

I've lived in Maryland my entire life, and I love it here. So much, that I've dedicated my left arm to a Maryland tribute sleeve. Oh yeah, I guess I should mention that I'm one of those crazy REBELS who has tattoos that show in public. I grew up in a family with two younger brothers, and acquired two more brothers after my parents split up and hooked up with other people. My mom died when I was 16. It's been 7 years, and it still feels like it happened yesterday.

I didn't go to college. Let me rephrase that - I went to community college for entirely too long, pursuing an interior design degree. All of a sudden, adulthood smacked me in the face and I realized I had to either finish the classes required to get my associate's degree (which, let's face it, won't get you a job anywhere these days), or get a big girl job and join the real world. I chose the latter. Now I've been at the same big girl job for 5 years, and I love it, even if I don't make a million dollar salary.

Blah blah blah. There's a good chunk of my life story for you. Since buying our first home together, I've become ridiculously addicted to everything that is home decor. Pier 1 Imports, Pottery Barn, Ikea, Home Goods, Bed Bath & Beyond = 5 stores I spend entirely too much money in. I'll frequently be blogging about our home, what I've done to it, and my great deal finds on home decor.

So, you're probably wondering why I spelled "Bare" wrong in the title, huh? That's because you're smart, and you catch onto things quickly. You probably correct everyone's spelling on their Facebook statuses, don't you? Don't worry, I'm guilty of it, too.

Anywhoozits - I'm a cat lady. I wouldn't necessarily call myself crazy (I can't guarantee that my husband would say the same), but I am a cat lady nonetheless. I have four cats: Lily, Pheobe, Mama Cat (also known as Pearl), and Bear. I guarantee you will see countless photos of them throughout my blog-venture. Here's a picture of all them on our bed - from left to right - Pheobe, Lily, Mama Cat, and Bear.



See, Bear was a special case. We rescued him when he was two weeks old. We had to bottle feed him and teach him how to poo (details in a later post, I promise), and we still noticed he was a little... off. Turns out, he had some kind of weird imbalance in his equilibrium, and therefore kept his head tilted to the left and walked in circles. It was great entertainment, trust me, but we wanted him to live a normal kitty life, where he could play and run and NOT run into walls and step in his food bowl. So, long story short, my amazing vet came up with some insane concoction of medicine for little Bear, and day by day, he got better. Now, he's still a little funny in that he walks like a snake (weaving left and right after attempting to walk straight), but he's learned to live with his disability. And damnit, he is the most lovable freaking cat I've ever encountered.

So there - that's the story of Bear, and the name for my blog (courtesy of my favorite non-guidette from Jersey, Jess).

Now. I promise that my blogs won't ever be this long winded EVER again. I just feel like I had a lot to catch you up on, yaknowwhatimean? So, now that we're friends and all... or followers? or blog buddies? (I don't know the politically correct terms for this place)... tell me... how did you get the name for your blog?