cabbitzilla | (no subject)

Ahhhh, Christmas. Yes, Christmas.

Right, now that that's over with... I seem to have survived it all. The morning with older of my little sisters and her family, and mom, went reasonably well. Well, as good as any get together is gonna go when it's prefaced by me falling down a flight of steps and scaring the crap out of nine cats, three guinea pigs, and one very large cabbit.

Yes, last night was fun. A trebled dose of my naproxen has the worst of the swelling knocked back, and it's backed up by a few of my hoarded percosets.

The kids both seemed to like their gifts, and mine were positively delightful. Two new porcelain dolls to add to my collection (mom found them somewhere and they're -gorgeous-), seasonal munchies, a bit of cash, and some very very cute knicknacks.

Afternoon found me at dad's, facing what I was honestly expecting to be another 25 December face-off with my grandfather. God, fate, and my grandfather's slowly failing memory saw me through that; he'd forgotten his hearing aid and was having to be yelled at just so he could hear folks. Kinda puts the kabosh on the kind of catfight he and I seem to have. I stayed for a bit, ate some of Evelyn's wonderful food (no sarcasm there; for a skinny woman she can do some -serious cooking), and gossipped a bit with my baby sister (who also does my hair... I don't think it's possible for me to shock her anymore). As the light began to fail, so did my pain meds and I beat a retreat back to the land of furrballs.

A bit more cash and a sizeable book of crockpot recipes (*SQUEE!* Evelyn loves me! :) ).

And here at Crys and Kelly's, my final Christmas present was found: a watchable copy of a movie both mindblowingly funny and soulsearingly frightening was awaiting me. There're a couple of near-and-dears who probably are running screaming for shelter even from that, but if you're curious, go to Google and do a search on the tagline for it: Hell hath no fury like a hippo with a machine gun.

Yes, that one.

And I watched it. And I cringed and gibbered and felt still more of my sanity slipping away as I wondered why I did this to myself. And then... epiphany! The ending hits, all hell breaks loose, and I remember why. I'm not crying anymore, but the down side is that I'm not sure I'm going to sleep for fear of a buggery-loving fox paying a... wait. Why does that worry me again? *thinks* Okay, maybe I'll sleep after all.

Fear me, mortals; I am Cabbitzilla, Destroyer of Worlds, and if you don't give me what I want I'll beg and use the big sad eyes on you. So there.

I'm going to go feed the coven of cats now. They've been giving me dirty looks since I got in, but I refused to yield. But it -is- dinner time now, so I need to go. Merry Christmas, my darlings... if you're feeling blue, remember I love you. And that's about all that's keeping -me- going now, so don't you DARE crap out on my now, y'hear? *hugs*

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

*hugs* I'm horrified that you got THAT movie. It's one of those that I can only watch once every three years... only because its so memorable that I can replay parts of it in my head when I'm feeling like I need a machine gun. The question would be whether that's Peter Jackson's BEST work. Love and kisses, sweetie. :)

*snickers softly*
You do realize that YOU, my dear kitty, are the one that introduced me to that particular piece of film?

And I average once every two years. This has been an exceptionally long year, though, so from an emotional perspective I was long overdue. And the machine gun solution occurred to me many times...

*grins* I wanted the machine gun on many many fronts. And yeah... you have to have the splattered bodies everywhere, and muppets gone awry. Mee-yow.

*snickers louder*
Well, I imagine some of the bits could have been used as muppet stuffing. But you know how thorough I tend to be: scorched earth means a fine, three foot deep layer of ash on everything. :p

Turn it all to powder, the best things in the world. There should be a song about that, most definitely. And the hippo was one of the best things about it, too.

Song?

You mean one OTHER than Leslie Fish's Bring It Down!. Seemed to about cover it from my end. ;)

Bunnies sing Bring it Down from time to time... it's crazy how I sometimes start to see the world like Leslie does. Now if only I could sing.

You and I -both- sing as well as Leslie does. What we lack, in varying degrees, is a) songwriting talents (the woman can hammer out a tune in 20 mins from scratch, I'm told), b) guitar playing ability (I've seen vidcam footage of her not missing a note even as a drunk geek falls over her and pours his beer into her guitar), c) ferocity (that kind of focused chi, rather than raw anger), d) balls (just listen to 'Good Ship Venus' and see if you can deny that the woman's got a pair the size of football stadiums) and d) time.

I know damned well I don't measure up on that yardstick; there may be some raw vocal talent, but I fail miserably most everywhere else. And she's MUCH cuter than I'll ever be. :)

*grins* I've not seen that vidcam footage of her getting beer poured into her guitar and not missing a beat. :) That must be something quite impressive to watch. Meow, personally I think that you got the cuteness factor down - though I'm biased. :)

*BLUSH*

Merry christmas! *hugs much*