To the makers of cat ear medication:

What the hell were you thinking when scented this stuff? Did you honestly think that making it smell like cheap, skanky, peach-scented potpourri was going to make it any easier to get into a cat’s ear? Or perhaps you believed I’d appreciate smelling like a particularly noxious peach soda after said cat proceeds to fling the crap all over my face and work clothes.

You have my significantly less-than-undying gratitude,

Cadi

P.S. Whatever it smells like, it does not taste like peach soda. I’m off to scrub at the offending substance yet again.

Some time last spring, I discovered that my favorite jeans were discontinued. They were perfect- bootcut with a little bit of stretch, not too tight, a low waistline that didn’t reveal your undies (or completely fall off your bum) when you leaned over, no stupid whisker washing or tears, and a complete lack of muffin top. I loved those jeans.

Now, I have a limited clothing budget (read no budget). So when my husband walked up behind me in a restaurant one morning and said “Honey, don’t panic…but you’re pants have split down the back pocket,” I nearly cried. The very last pair of my favorite jeans had quietly died and left me in a very precarious situation with my undies on display for the entire population of our small town. (We will politely overlook the fact that I’d worn the same pants out to the previous night and that he’d noticed the problem then and failed to mention it.)

Fast forward. After months of searching, I’ve finally found a pair of jeans I can live with. I love them- they are even better than my favorites…with one noticeable/unfortunate exception: rhinestone sparklies on the back pockets. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m not a twig. I have no need or desire draw attention to my backside. This trend of sticking mass quantities of sparkely stuff or lettering to the ars-end of your britches kinda really drives me up the wall.

Which is why I was caught doing this at 10 pm last night.