Author Archives: cat9984

8

My Inquiring Mind

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Questions that have been roaming my brain recently:

Why are we being invaded by June bugs in May?

Why do some people get allergies as kids and outgrow them and some get them as adults? Do the kids just shed them onto some random adult? Can I find some obnoxious child to pass mine to?

Why do those drug ads on TV tell us to talk to our doctors about their products? Do they think the doctors don’t already know about them? Besides, why would I want to talk to my doctor about ED drugs?

How did women survive the heat back when they had to wear full-length dresses and all those other layers? No A/C and most of them couldn’t just lay around and fan themselves all day.

What was the driver thinking when he passed 3 cars on a blind curve? I know what I was thinking coming the other direction. It’s weird how long it seems to take the brain to realize there is a car coming toward you and there’s nowhere to go.

Why is the Store Director yelling (yes, really) at my Team Leader for not having enough people in the deli when she now has to live with the computer telling her who can work which hours?

Why do I open my Xfinity newsfeed to see yet another story on one of the Real Housewives of Wherever and open my MSN newsfeed to see that 1400 Indians have died from the heat? Maybe because I was able to choose mostly foreign news sources on MSN?

Why are they still heating our Receiving area? It’s in the eighties and humid; and all we do back there is unload boxes. Seems they could save some money there.

Speaking of boxes – why do they tape them shut, then label them not to be cut open. Isn’t that what box-cutters are designed to do?

We don’t have A/C. The house stays cool in the summer until the first really humid day. So why did we have to get high humidity before high heat this year? (Of course, it’s supposed to drop 25 degrees in a couple of days.)

Why is the bedroom in the northwest corner of the house 10 degrees colder in the winter and 10 degrees hotter in the summer?

Why did the county put up a sign on a local road saying, “Road construction coming soon”? Like a movie trailer. Of course, one day the road was at a standstill while they paved it because no one knew “soon” had come.

If airbags are for safety, why is the only injury I’ve ever gotten in an accident was when the airbag pushed my teeth through my lip? (Including the times I rolled a car and was broadsided by a tow truck towing a car.)

Why do some cats see shorts as an invitation to get on your lap? (Oooh look – bare skin! It needs fur!)

Totally unrelated observation: There was a man in the store today who looked just like the pictures I’ve seen of Rasputin – right down to the spooky eyes (my guy had less beard).

(BBC Archive)

1

A NEGLECTED LESSON FROM THE EASTER WEEKEND

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Yep. Sending you into the land of the serious again. I would love to send this message to Congress. And a few others.

Nko Matomela Ka Skade's avatar⌨ ᴺᴷᴼ⁻ᴸᴼⱽᴱˢ⁻ᵂᴿᴵᵀᴵᴺᴳ ✍

YOUR PETTINESS IS HURTING SOMEONE YOUR PETTINESS IS HURTING SOMEONE

It is amazing how much South Africans, the black populace in particular, appears to find only specific occasions to bond and show some delightful levels of agreement and common purpose.  Out of the blue and albeit being brief in duration, there seems to magically appear a camaraderie and cohesion that has become a scarce commodity amongst us.  During these short-lived encounters, the unity and common drive that is displayed achieves a lot more than when the opposite occurs.  How sad it is then that we only see rare glimpses of these fruitful occurrences.  This brief human harmony and single-minded focus on the same goal is kind of reminiscent of the sudden and most beautiful blooming of the veld in the Namaqualand.  How one wishes that more of that could occur and actually last longer?

However, petty squabbling as well as the urge for instant and…

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2

Critter Capers: Horatio Takes on the Internet

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Hello Humans. Nice to talk with you again. I’ve been watching Mom on her computer and decided that I need to set the record straight on some of what she was looking at on “social media”.  I’m going to start with pictures. I don’t want to get into some of things I’ve seen on Facebook and YouTube. Let’s just say that some people have no common sense filters when it comes to their animals.

Before I start, I must say that I really don’t understand why it is called social media. When hedgehogs are social, there is more than one of us present and we communicate face to face. As far as I can tell, humans are social one at a time and do it over a long period of time. And they don’t actually know who they are talking to.

Anyway, here we go. (Pictures are from Imgur.)

Seriously?! You’re probably looking at this and saying, “awwwww,” aren’t you? Do you know how humiliating it is to be objectified as food?  Ladies, would you want to be called “cupcake”?

Of course, there are worse things that can happen:

Is that not the cheapest suit you have ever seen? What makes humans think they can put their hedgehog in something they would never be caught dead in? (It’s a joke: that hedgehog is supposed to be dressed up like Dracula.)

Remember when you were little and your Mom took pictures of you in the bathtub? Then she threatened to show them to your girlfriends/boyfriends? How would you like this?

Now the entire world knows you still like bubble baths. Totally humiliating. And it perpetuates that fallacy that we all love water. As far as I’m concerned, water is for drinking.

I won’t even discuss this one. The human probably had it in his/her mouth before they took the picture. Ewwwwww.

I thought I’d include one picture I like. This is me with a new favorite food.

Horatio_cookie

Yep. It’s a chocolate cookie. Mom says it’s genetic since everyone else likes chocolate. I just can’t eat too much. I discovered I like peanut butter too. Human food is OK, but it’ll never replace wax worms. You really should try them.

I’m going to try to convince Mom not to spend anymore time looking at embarrassing hedgehog pictures. They even have ones with the private parts all exposed. I might have shown one of those but I was too embarrassed.

I would also like to request that all of you not post pictures of your animal friends that you would not post of yourself.

On second thought, maybe I should just take your cameras away.

One final question:

Why do humans think this picture is funny?

8

Guest Poet

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My son wrote this poem. He told me that I could send it to one of those blogs that ask their readers for various types of participation. However, this being Mother’s Day, I don’t think he can kill me for putting it out where people are (almost) aware of who he is. He’s 18 and in his first year of college. I like it and hope you do too.

Irony

For meter and rhyme,

I haven’t the time,

and my mind is a stagnant pool.

For this is my curse:

I cannot write verse;

can you think of a fate more cruel?

 

I have not the muse,

my mind does refuse,

to pour forth my soul, though I try.

I’m not a poet.

God knows I know it;

I wish I could break down and cry.

 

But still must I write,

most every night,

In hopes that I might one day make,

a poem or lyric,

perhaps a panegyric

that sounds neither trite, bad, nor fake.

 

8

How Does That Make You Feel?

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I’ve been hearing an ad on the radio about therapy for cats who don’t get along. They don’t go into a lot of detail, so I’m not really sure what it’s all about. I’ve never been through any type of couple’s counseling, but I have quite a bit of experience with the individual type.

Maybe cat therapy would sound a little like this:

Therapist: So ladies, why don’t you tell me a little about yourselves?

Princess: Well, I was living happily with my humans until one day that (points at Cleo) shows up at the doorstep. She’s all mangy and smelly. She starts crying pathetically. So do the humans close the door to keep out the smell? No. They start feeding her! Next thing I know, she’s got a bed next to mine and I’m supposed to share my toys with her.

Cleo: I lived in a house with a lot of other cats. One day someone came with cages for all of us. I ran away. But it’s really hard living on the street. I kept trying to find a new human. Finally I met my new family. They’re wonderful! They fed me, they took me to the doctor and the groomer, and they let me stay in their house. It would be perfect if it weren’t for Her Highness over there.

(They look at each other and growl.)

Therapist: So what I’m hearing, Princess, is that you were an only cat and now you have a housemate. How does that make you feel?

Princess: What do you think? (Aside to Cleo – How much did Mom pay for this guy?)

Therapist: You don’t sound happy.

Cleo: That’s just how she talks. She always sounds kind of grouchy.

Therapist: What about you, Cleo? Are you afraid of Princess?

Cleo: I’m the one from the streets, remember? Why would I be afraid of her? (To Princess – He really doesn’t know much about cats, does he?)

Therapist: I’m sensing a little hostility from both of you.

Princess: We’re cats. We’re in a strange place. And you smell weird.

Cleo: And you talk weird.

Therapist: We’re here to talk about you, not me. Let’s focus.

Princess: OK, I don’t like having another cat around the house. It’s hard sharing the humans.

Cleo: It’s hard being in a new house.

Therapist: Good! We’re making progress!

(Both cats look at him and hiss.)

Princess (in cat): Why do humans always think they are the center of everything?

Cleo (in cat): I know. Even Mom and Dad do that sometimes.

Therapist: Now ladies, you were just started to explore your relationship and now you’re hissing and crying at each other.

(The cats look at each other helplessly.)

Princess: You don’t smell as weird as you used to. Maybe if I helped you groom, you’d be OK.

Cleo: I’d like that a lot. Sometimes I miss the other cats.

Princess: That way we could sleep together if it gets cold.

(Cleo starts to purr.)

Therapist: You’re making a lot of progress. I think we need to run through some practice scenarios. (Looks down) Oops, guess that will have to wait for the next session. Time’s up.

(Opens the door.)

Therapist: They did very well for a first session. I think in a few months they could be best friends.

(The cats look at each other. They start coughing. After a minute, each hacks a hairball onto the shoe closest to her.)

Therapist: Or maybe we’re done here.

 

6

Critter Capers: Kommando’s New Hobby

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Hello humans and cats with computers. I hope it’s as nice there as it is here. We’ve had full Cat TV for the last couple of days. Drapes and windows open. Sun. Birds. Two channels: dining room and living room. Hopefully the upstairs channel will be available soon. It’s harder to watch the things in the window wells (I think the humans call them frogs), but we can see a lot farther. We can sleep in the sun on the inside porch too. Purrrr.

Before it got so nice, Blondie (B for short) taught me a new hobby. She has a really little box that shows pictures and she talks into it. But it also does this:

Kommando_03272015

Pretty cool, huh?

B says I don’t like to get my picture taken. That’s because you couldn’t even see me in the first few pictures she took. I guess it took her a couple of days to figure out that since most of me is white, I need a dark background. I could put a dumb blonde joke here but I’m kinda blonde too.

Anyway, now that she knows how to do it, I think I like it.

IMG_20141129_241401715

I just wish they would clean the house. I don’t know who Mr. Beer is, but I don’t want his stuff in my pictures.

My Grandma used to take lots and lots of pictures. But you can’t see them on the computer. They’re on some kind of paper. Snoops says they’re delicious. They’re all of the same people and cats. Some of them look like Mom and Dad, but better looking. Grandma must not have known too many people.

B isn’t around when I do most of my really cute stuff like lie in Mom’s arms in bed. Maybe she should teach Dad about this. He has one of those little boxes too.

Now that I think about it, I don’t know what to do with all of these pictures. Do they just live in the computer forever? Do new ones come and eat the old ones?

20141216_203409

Guess I just have to lay here and think about it for a while.

 

2

The Easter Bunny Explains All

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Hello, I am the Easter Bunny; the animal you see every spring. I would like to thank Cat for the opportunity to clear up a few things before Easter this year. I would also like to thank Kommando Kitty for giving up her spot as this week’s guest writer.

I am a rabbit; a real rabbit.

I look like this:

rabbits are everywhere don t worry i don t mean that literally they ... (not a photo of me)

Not like this:

The Easter Bunny Shoplifter Due In Court The Day After Easter [Video]

I understand that children like to see who brings them candy. However, I think it is important for adults to understand that I do not walk on two feet or have plastic eyes.

I use magic to deliver eggs.

If your children wonder how one rabbit can get eggs to everyone within 24 hours, tell them they don’t have to worry that I will get tired before I get to your house. I do pretty much the whole thing from home.

I used to be a regular rabbit. One day I was running from a small child and jumped down a hole. But it wasn’t a rabbit hole. The place was full of faeries. One of them flew over to me and said, “Thank goodness you made it! We were almost finished.”

I tried to tell her that I wasn’t her rabbit. But before I knew what was happening, she turned me into the Easter Bunny. My job was to find a band of bunnies from everywhere they celebrate Easter.

Those bunnies tell me how many children there are in their neighborhood who will be receiving treats. (Here’s where the magic comes in.)

I conjure enough treats for each bunny to deliver and make sure they get there in plenty of time to be sorted and tagged. (It’s a trade secret how the baskets actually get to the children.)

I don’t know Santa Claus.

I’m hibernating when Santa visits down here. I would never visit a place with that much ice and snow. Rumor has it he has a private island for his down time in the spring and summer.

I don’t have the same job as Santa Claus.

I understand where this idea came from. The Germans were the ones who dreamed up both Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. They decided that we would each decide who was naughty or nice. Then we would bring all kinds of goodies to the nice children.

They got Santa’s job right, but were way off on mine (rather surprising considering how precise they usually are). I originally was responsible for coloring (hen’s) eggs and distributing them. More recently, they added chocolate eggs and jelly beans.

Modern baskets are a combined effort.

Sometimes the parents help me by adding other types of candy to the basket. The home-made cookies and candies are particularly nice.

Any brand-name candy is not from us. I would never buy commercial candy to hand out. My bunnies are busy enough as it is. However, it is very kind of people to buy this candy for children (particularly someone else’s).

And a word about chocolate rabbits. We work hard to get the eggs and candy out. I really don’t appreciate people putting chocolate rabbits in the baskets to be gobbled up. Perhaps you could replace them with dogs or hawks, or something else that harasses rabbits.

Those pre-filled baskets that have been appearing in stores the last few years? An abomination! Not the pretty chocolate ones filled with chocolates. The big ones filled with ugly toys. No child should ever believe that the Easter Bunny is responsible for something that commercial.

If you want your child to have a toy for Easter, buy your child a toy for Easter. Let them appreciate that we both care for them.

Thank you for your time. If you know a rabbit who might be interested in joining my network, please pass their name along to Cat. We’re always looking for good help.

And of course:

Happy Easter Bunny Images Background HD Wallpaper Happy Easter Bunny ...

21

Why am I Working Here?

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First a brief overview of my past for those of you who missed it at the beginning (about 95% by my non-scientific analysis).

I grew up blue collar in a Detroit suburb. Went to a highly regarded mid-western university (does not go by the initials ND). Got a couple of very well-paying jobs.

Had two psychotic breaks. Discovered I was bipolar and my job stress had to go. Finally ended up stocking cheese at a big box store. Low stress; low money.

Started blog about work. Got bored with that. Moved on to other subjects. Which is why you are reading a blog called Adventures in Cheeseland that has nothing to do with cheese. Have been told it’s a very bad idea to change the name of the blog.

Life has been pretty good in cheeseland. I like the people (most of them). The work is low-stress. My hours are early, but I like them. We are unionized, but that’s not one of its selling points.

It’s family-owned. When I started it was run by a man who was philanthropic, family-oriented, and good to work for (if you’re looking for that type of work).

[Warning: from this point forward it’s sarcasm, not the kind of humor you usually see in my blog.]

Unfortunately, he died. His sons took over. From all appearances, they learned very little from their father except how nice life could be for them with a lot of money.

They have been steadily climbing the Forbes 500 list of wealthiest people. During the United Way campaign, they asked us to contribute to help support people earning less than $27,000 annually. No one in the room was making close to $27,000 annually.

They started to buy a lot of their inventory from China (not the food). In fact, they have opened a distribution center in China “to be closer to their suppliers.” Some slippage in quality; some increase in price.

Their store brand used to be comparable to the national brands. Now the only thing I will buy are the pasta and canned tomatoes (to start the pasta sauce). They raised the price on cheese so high that sales started to drop.

The company hired a non-unionized workforce to do some of the stocking. Higher pay, same benefits as the rest of us. The union said to let them know if anyone had their hours cut because of these people.

Excuse me?! All of the work they are doing should be done by union workers. Michigan is now a right-to-work state. But standing by while the company pays non-union workers more money is not one of the definitions of right-to-work. At least is wasn’t when I did employee benefits.

When Michigan raised the minimum wage, the union made no attempt to get a higher wage cap for the employees who were already above that level. I’m guessing the idea never crossed the brothers’ minds.

The union contract is up next year. We no longer need to belong and pay dues. They may want to start working a little harder. Even the stewards are advising that we get rid of them. (They did save the job of a guy who went totally ballistic when someone took his food out of the microwave after he left the room.)

But all of that pales next to the company’s most recent initiative.

Work-motion studies have been around for more than a century. (Anyone remember “Cheaper by the Dozen”?) But the company seems to have created theirs without actually studying what the employees do.

Their basic idea is to get the maximum number of employees at work during the busiest times of day. Sounds logical, right? In fresh foods they do it by taking the people who set up the departments and having them start 2 to 3 hours later.

Problem? Nothing is set when the customer levels increase. Solution? Don’t change the standards for when the set-up needs to be done. But don’t allow workers to have carts on the floor because that’s inconvenient for the customers.

Employee can’t meet the standard? Write him/her up.

Best usage of this idea? In the bakery they have moved the slowest person to a schedule that requires her to do the majority of the baking before the store gets busy. Hope she doesn’t currently have any performance points. We only get 12 before we’re terminated.

There is ABSOLUTELY NO OVERTIME. Yes, the memos capitalize it. Currently, we can work 7 extra minutes each day without incurring overtime. It’s helpful when you’re trying to help a customer or finish a display.

We are moving to being paid by the minute. Which means that we can have 7 extra minutes per week before we have overtime. But we get paid for those extra minutes. And we get written up for that 8th minute. Seriously.

If we are helping a customer and it gets close to quitting time, either the team leader needs to take over or we need to call the manager to see if we can stay the extra time. Seriously.

Did I mention that the store is understaffed? The only ones who want to work here can’t pass the background check. Seriously.

I’m guessing that by now you understand why I no longer write about work. Work is no longer humorous.

I wonder if there’s a call for cat-sitters around here?