Hat Topic. (Yes, that was a tasteful pun.)

So, today I was walking down the street and I happened to notice, quite a cleverly crafted hat on an elderly lady passing by. Since I have constructed hats out of various objects previously, (cardboard, newspaper, pasta, paper plates, sliced bread etc.) I recognized her lid as a homemade creation! It looked just like my paper plate hat I designed for Oklahoma! So I yelled out to her, a little bit to loudly, "Ma'am! I like your hat! Did you make it? Is it a paper plate? Did you use hot glue? When I made mine I glued my fingers together! Hahahaha (Awkwardly loud laugh)" She kind of darted her beady eyes over to me, judged my outfit, and briskly walked around me without saying anything.

I was just trying to be nice. It was an ugly hat anyways.

Poodles. Sigh.

Poodles are very strange animals for multiple reasons:
1. Their name. Poodle? What the hell is that? Who came up with that?
2. Their size. They're like awkward giants! Just kind of teetering around and being awkward. And the mini ones are just mutated freaks.
3. Their poof. Poodles should be called Poofles. They're so POOFY. I saw a poodle today that almost couldn't fit through the door because of the poof.
4. Their bedazzled accessories. Poodle owners think that just because they are the divine masters of a poodle, they're allowed to buy collars with rhinestones all over them, and personalized food bowls for every meal they eat. No. Unacceptable. Put that bedazzler away lady. Put it away.

Although my encounter with poodles today wasn't exactly sketchy, it was definitely interesting.

Three poodles my friends. THREE. Three enormous poofy poodles. Three. Not one, not two. Three poodles people. Why would you need that many poodles in your home? Also they were all different colors. And I am 94% sure one had its nails painted for Easter. And they took up so much space. Like, isn't that some sort of DANGER! What if there's a fire! And I can't get out of the burning restaurant because your bigass poodle's in the way!? Sheesh.

Also confused by Labradoodles....Not even going to get into that one.

Baby Bird. I hate my cat. I hate cats.

There was this bizarre scratching from outside on the wall against my bed.

Naturally I went out to explore, with the expectations of finding a midget or a puppy. And I'm walking around in my gnome pajama pants trying to find the source of the mysterious scratching, and I see my wierdo cat-dog rolling around on it's back and then glance over to see a bird lying on the ground. So, I get a towel, am VERY careful not to touch it after the bat episode last year (rabies scare), and bring it inside. It was still alive, so I put it in a giant Tupperware container with a blanket and tried to eyedropper it some water. But it wasn't thirsty. I named it Nick Cage. Just kidding. So I left to go Google, "What to do with a sick bird that you've found outside your home after you've heard some scratching creature outside your bedroom window" and when I came back, it was dead.

It was the saddest thing ever.

Nick Cage. Where you be? Why you dead? Just want make proud.

This all took place at 11:30 at night.

Sufficiently Creepy Good Samaritan.

There was a bit of a dry spell for a while there, but have no fear. Sketchy come back!

Driving home this evening, my car started having difficultly getting up the mountain which  live on.
(Probably because there was no gas in it). So, I started having to ration the amount of gas left, since I didn't have enough to get to the gas station. And I was slowly crawling up the hill, and my window was down, and a strange voice fills my car from the open window,
"Wow, I'm walking faster than you are driving", it was some punk kid who is trespassing. (Sounds like someone had a death wish.)
I continued and a rabbit jogged casually next to my car.
I drove still, and spotted a small child dying from starvation passing my car. (Now that's a stretch, but as you can imagine, I was really slow).
Finally, I crawled into the driveway, and about 100 yards from my house and my car shudders to a stop and dies. What excellent timing, one might think.
Not for this girl. In my life, good timing does not exist.
So I begin to walk toward my house and look in the shed for a gas can, and I hear someone behind me, and my neighbor is holding a gas can and says,
"Looking for this."
"Yes..."
"I thought you had run out of gas"
"Oh.."
"Here, I'll help"
He then proceeds to fill up my car as I stand by awkwardly. Then I awkwardly thank him, and drive the rest of the way home.

Thanks, relatively creepy good Samaritan.

Not a Fan of Cats.

So...not really a cat person. When I was 8 years old, my little sister tricked me into holding a crazy cat. It attacked me, and scarred my left hand. I was never the same.

I have two cats. But one is always on the lamb, and the other thinks it's a dog. So I don't really have a problem with those. But I'm not really sure if I'm allergic to cats or not, but they make my skin itchy and my eyes red, so I'm going to go out on a limb and say yes.

Anyways, I try to avoid cats when I can. When I see a cat, I cross to the other side of the street. When I accidentally step on a cat, I jump into nearby swimming pools. Essentially, it's a great relationship. They don't bother me, I may bother them, but they don't do anything in response.

So last night as I was walking around before dark to clear my head, I looked up; right into the slitted eyes of a grey-striped stray. You could imagine how startled I was when the scary looking Tabby jumped out of a tree and landed right in front of me. I darted around it and kept walking, but when I turned around two minutes later, I was horrified to find the same cat plus three more, were following me like I'm the Pied Piper. Then I pass a playground where seven Latino children are having a water balloon fight. I overhear one girl yell to her brother,
"If you throw that at me again Rico, I'll slice your head like Mama slices the chilies."

That was enough to get me started walking again. But every time I stopped and turned around to see if the creepy cats were following me, they would stop, and scatter, look occupied, and jump into a tree. It was so weird.

I think they're planning an uprising.

Gross.

I don't know where all of these creepy bugs are coming from, but one definitely just flew into my mouth. That was revolting.

In other news: I babysat a crazy six-year-old, and carried him to bed after the sugar crash.

In other, other news: Ran over a skunk on the way home with all of the windows down. Awesome.

Kind of a mellow night.