I suspect . . .

 . . . that the Internet is weird. 

Forget suspecting. I KNOW the internet is weird; I think everybody does. But today I was checking out my StatCounter for like the first time in a year (I forgot I had it and tried to make a new one, oops) and I started clicking on how people find my blog. 

Aaaaaand enter the weird. Did you know that people actually search "Put poo in perfume"?!? From my post about spilling perfume when a foster kitten had diarrhea? (Ew, BTW). But seriously. Put poop in perfume? WHO WOULD DO THAT?! 

Apparently, a few readers. 

UPDATE: 

I've been thinking about this "poo in perfume" person. (I had ample time to do so while biking with Nick to school and then again on the way home.) I suppose there might actually be REASONS for googling such a thing. A few I have thought of include: 

1) This person (oh! they live in London, by the way, so let's call them Queenie) received some perfume as a present and it smells awful. They googled "poo in perfume" to see if it is an actual type, (in which case their friend doesn't want them dead) or if the poo smell is from their friend actually mixing poo and perfume together in which case the friend probably wants them to come down with E. Coli. Either way Queenie needs to dump this friend; they're toxic. 

2) Queenie is a fervent vegan soul working for PETA (or the UK equivalent) who is trying to find ways of suing perfume companies by accusing them of mixing the poop of unwilling animals into their bottles. 

3) Queenie is actually a thirteen-year-old boy trying to piss off his sister. 

OH MY GOD THERE IS NO REASON TO GOOGLE "PUT POO IN PERFUME". THIS IS GOING TO HAUNT ME ALL NIGHT LONG. 

Perfume and Poop

You know what one of the most horrifying smells in the world is? 

Perfume and poop. 

. . .  . . .  . . . 

. . . yes. You see, my last two foster kittens Billy and Nellie were diagnosed with coccidia, a nasty intestinal parasite that causes horribly stinky diarrhea and an apparent inability to make it to the litter box. I've found stinky little piles of pudding diarrhea in my closet, on my pillow cover, in the downstairs closet, behind the guest bed, next to the litter box, and on the bathroom rug. It's so bad that while I was taking a bath today I was trying to figure out what that awful smell was--I was sniffing my armpits, looking for mildew, making sure there wasn't cat poop behind my head . . . and finally realized that it was a few paper towels in the trash that had some diarrhea residue on them. That's how strong the smell is. 

So, that's the poop part, which is damn well bad enough on it's own. Here's where the perfume comes in: 

After I organized my room I realized I needed to put the cat food bowl somewhere else since I had gotten rid of the huge bookshelf where it had been kept, high up away from our constantly starving dogs. (Who, incidentally, adore kitten poop! Hooray! Instant clean!)

So, for lack of a better place, I put the food bowl on my dresser. It worked very well until recently, when in the middle of the night I was woken up by a crashing sound and then a pervasive smell. Since I was still half-asleep it took me a few minutes to realize that Oz had taken a flying leap onto my dresser and knocked into the food bowl which crashed into my perfume bottles which knocked over my blown glass perfume bottle that was holding some of my Britney Spears In Control perfume. So. I had perfume soaking my dresser, a broken bottle, and a freaked out cat--and a pressing need for sleep. 

Here's where my half-assed procrastination approach really shows. I soaked up some of the perfume, consigned the rest of it dripping down my dresser to a carpeted eternity, covered the glass with paper towels and went back to bed. I still haven't dealt with it. 

BUT. (Hah, puns. I kill me.) The heavy flowery scent of the perfume mingling with the knock-ya-over-with-a-feather odor of the kitten poops is simply awful. So awful that I just had to share. You are WELCOME. 

Happy Birthday to Me!

This post is kind of belated since I turned twenty a few days ago! I was hoping inspiration would strike and that I would compose a brilliant post . . .but nope. It didn't. So . . .

I'm twenty now.

No longer a teenager.

Is it sad this makes me feel old? I want to say "I'm twenty-teen" because for so long "teen" has been tacked on to the end of the number. Now it's not, and it feels weird!

I am spoiled. I got perfume, a one-hour massage, penguin socks, two (delicious chocolate!) cakes, lots of clothes, four pairs of shoes, lipgloss, cocoa, Spanish software, a manicure/pedicure set with OPI nailpolish, and I bought myself a car. Sorta. It was my grandma's, and I am getting it for a discount, and I haven't paid YET. But oh, I will. But oh also, it is so pretty and shiny and new!

I feel very lucky in my family and boyfriend and friends! Thank you everybody for spending the year with me!