October 1, 2006

Things I need to be Truly! Happy! Forever!

1) A kitten. The successful candidate will be yellow and possess an enormous puffy tail. Competitive salary and a benefits package including Iams kibble and “being named Pompymoose.”

Scott says I don’t want JUST a kitten. A kitten, he says, is not enough pets for me, and TRULY the number of pets I need is a variable, demonstrated via this mathematical formula:

Truly! Happy! Forever! = X+1

Here, X is the number of pets I have NOW.

So FIVE is currently X, as we have Schubert the cat and then four gerbils named Cosy Mole Mouse, Snickers, Alice, and That Cross Dressing Poet Tennyson.

Once Pompymoose is installed, X will become 6 (+1), because, SCOTT SAYS, I will then need a parrot. And then a goat, And then another goat for company for the first goat because otherwise the first goat will be lonely and lonely goats head-butt and eat your wash off the line. Then he says I will need a hedgehog named Pigling Bland because that is the very best name for a hedgehog and it seems a shame to not have an actual hedgehog to pin it on. And then a horse to keep the goats company and a medium-sized houndish sort of dog and a small herd of those vibrantly colored and sleek and adorable house lizards to run up and down the walls and eat any roaches that DARE put one clicky, repulsive, pointy leg-end part into my domain. Also, Sam wants a snake. I am open to the concept, as long it is a small cricket-eating sort who won’t be eyeing That Cross Dressing Poet Tennyson.

I say, “Silly Scott, That’s not TRUE! RIGHT NOW, I only need one negligible kitten.”

And I think that’s reasonable. Kittens are SMALL and make peeping noises and delight me. Just say yes to kittens, I say! Or a houndy-dog. Or a goat. See, I am SO VERY reasonable.

2) To secede from the union and live here. With X number of goats. Plus one. And a SMOKIN’ HOT internet con I would steal from my wealthy neighbor, America.


3) Another beer.

4) A time machine, so I can travel back 48 hours and change, back to those halcyon days of innocence and sugared air, back BEFORE I decided I needed to march around the house for a solid hour listening to GOLDFRAPP to mentally prep to write a sex scene because you KNOW how comfortable I feel staring at my characters delecto-ing their flagrants and such because we southern girls are FAMOUSLY unrepressed, right? Right! SO!

I marched and marched and Goldfrapped and thought about the mechanics of the thing and how to indicate what was going WHERE without baldfaced directly LOOKING at it, you know, and my cheeks were all ablush. SO I am thinking and marching and marching and plotting and thinking with Goldfrapp….and I did not notice Miss Maisy came up from the basement where she had been playing with the Living Family Happy Non-Gold Unfrapped Dollhouse, and she was marching behind me, one little foot after another, and now I have a four year old who wanders through the kitchen warbling “I’m in LOVE! I’m in LOVE! I’m in LOOOOVE with a STRICT! MACHINE!”

“No,” I say. “You are NOT.”

“Wonderful! Electric!” she trills.


“Uma LUB Wibba Stwick Ma-Shee,” she yodels, spewing crumbs across my kitchen.


Scott has looked over my list and says I have an EXCELLENT shot at being Truly! Happy! Forever! if I choose just one of my four needs. He suggests I pick number three, and he is going now to the fridge to make all of my dreams come true using a mathematical formula that looks like this:

X = all dreams come true.
And here, you understand, x is defined as “my very best boyfriend is getting me a beer.”
I think it will work.

Posted by joshilyn at October 1, 2006 7:03 PM

I hope the best boyfriend beer worked for you. As for me, that video has made my left eyelid twitch. It is now spasming every few seconds, reminding me how old and...old I am.
So...thanks for that...

Posted by: Kira at October 1, 2006 7:42 PM

Wow, I wish I had a very best beer-getting boyfriend to make all of MY dreams come true!

(Last night I demanded of mine that he come up here and spend some time laying on possible beds and then tell me which one to buy, but he said NO because he is not a perfect Robot Man like Scott.)

Posted by: Mir at October 2, 2006 8:57 AM

I just adore your word choices... you have such a fascinating way with the English language. I swear, you could write an essay on grass growing and make it the most hilarious essay evereverever! Hope the beer made you as happy as a clam.

Posted by: Angela at October 2, 2006 10:04 AM

Well I think getting two of the four items on your list would be reasonable and I vote for numbers 1 and 3. 1 and 3 both seem QUITE manageble to me.

For that matter, I actually don't see anything so very unreasonable about numbers 2 and 4, but I've wished for things very similar to numbers 2 and 4 in the past and have had very little luck achieving them. Of course you might succeed where I didn't. I'm rooting for you. GO Joss, GO Joss, goGoGO Joss!

Posted by: DebR at October 2, 2006 10:32 AM

But the really important question is...
What kind of beer?

"Wonderful! Electric!" ... Maisy cracks me up. She gets that from her mom, I'm sure.

Posted by: dee at October 2, 2006 11:24 AM

Oh mi GOD! I now understand algebra - son of a bun hugger. I always knew my teachers just needed to phrase it as a question I could apply to understand and use.

That girl shouldn't wear body suits *shivers* *twitch* *twitch* *twitch*

Posted by: Cele at October 2, 2006 12:05 PM

Careful now... you know the crazy cat lady only got all those cats because they were cute as kittens, right?

I also would like to live at that lovely little place you linked to... beautiful!

Posted by: Heather Cook at October 2, 2006 1:16 PM

Oh my. I just read your post to my daughter. it's become an almost daily ritual. Then we clicked that Goldfrapp link. I think the poor girl is traumatized! She gets that from HER mother, I'm sure.

Posted by: dee at October 2, 2006 2:08 PM

O, I think I must e-mail you a photo of my baby Pompymoose, which your spammers will probably shoot down with their cyberkinetic ray guns.

Then, partial happiness will be yours!

Posted by: Edgy Mama at October 2, 2006 5:21 PM

That song/video weas rather disturbing.... especially the dog/human thing--that was just wrong! ;)

As for the kitten--WHS. Kittens become cats and then where is all the cuteness, I ask you? But then again, it sounds as if Schubert may need reinforcements to combat the Gerbil Gang--especially that Cross Dressing Poet Tennyson!

Move that ranch to Idaho and I am there! Love the south, but I just can't do all that humidity...

Posted by: Sheri at October 2, 2006 6:39 PM

This was a delightful, and marvelous, literary roller-coaster ride for the reader!! Thankyou, and prrrrrrrr go for the kitty(after the beer!)


Posted by: North at October 2, 2006 7:55 PM

Hmmm...in our house, my husband has the same equation, although he usually phrases it n+1. And, in his case, n is not an animal, but a bicycle. I could start the list of what he has and what he wants, but it would go on as long as your list of pets, and no comment should be as long as the blog! :)

Just found your books and your blog--loving them both!

Posted by: Becky Levine at October 2, 2006 8:20 PM

We have TWO new fluffy yellow kittens. And they are happiness personified--Except when they eat four times the amount of food that you'd expect such tender young things to eat, and then produce ten times the amount of "waste" from said food; when they decide to play chase over your nicely sleeping form at 3 AM; when they knock over the trashcan repeatedly because they don't like their food and/or are curious about what goodies are inside; when they hide under the sofa and strafe your legs 'cause they LOOOVE to play; when they leave bug parts lined up by the door 'cause they love you and want to share...
Yep, they're ultimate happiness, and I wouldn't trade them. But if I had to do it all again, I'd give serious consideration to that beer...

Posted by: Jen at October 3, 2006 9:44 AM

Well. . .any kitten I get would have to come with a free refillable canister of oxygen, a mask, and a pass to the ER. Their lovely fluff causes chaos in my lungs. We tried, in vain, to have a kitten--her name was Duffy. She could flatulate with the best of 'em--could clear a room that cat. She also sent me to the emergency room (with her fluff--not her flatulence).

It is very sad since my little boy carried around a precious little charcoal gray male while visiting my sister. She lives in the country, so all of her felines are the out door variety. You just don't get a cuter sight than a sunburned, cotton topped five year old boy squatting right on a kitten's level and holding a heart to heart talk that only the two of them can understand.

And if we lived in the country rather than the 'burbs, I would have reserved a room in the ER and strapped on an oxygen mask for the 8 hour trip home so my son could have brought that cat.

Posted by: Roxanne at October 3, 2006 12:20 PM

Here's the argument for Scott about the house: But if we don't, we'll always regret it. (That's what everyone tells me about the real estate they either didn't buy or fortunately bought "before prices went sky-high.")

I'm jealous. In my neighborhood, condos are going for $600,000.

Posted by: Suebob at October 3, 2006 3:53 PM

Be careful what you wish for pet-wise. I could always send Boo your way...

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