plecosaurus and the leviathan
Nov. 23rd, 2006 11:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7So Z brought home the Pescado Non Grata yesterday.
They're fucking huge.
The goldfish has got to be seven inches long.
The plecostomus catfish is more like four inches but it's all mouth.
They're in the former Foosh Palace, which is set up sans plastic-canvas barriers-- and good thing too, as the goldfish is larger than the dividers-- and I put the giant martini glass that used to be Gibson's bowl in there as a decoration.
The pleco is sitting in it sucking on the side, and it's hilarious. He's like, drinking the world's largest martini, constantly.
He likes it in there because the hyper massive goldfish hasn't settled down and so is constantly swimming around, running into the pleco if he's in the way. So the martini glass is a safe haven. Which is good, as I'd kind of intended it that way. (It has glass ice cubes sitting in it and looks clever, I think.)
I've dubbed them Plecosaurus (he looks more like a dinosaur than a fish-- he's such a weird thing he doesn't even have scales) and the Leviathan. This goldfish-- seriously, Gibson is about the size of one of this fish's fins. I'd thought the goldfish would be like, maybe the size of my thumb. No. This is like... well, let's just say if he grows any more he'll be too big for this tank and we'll donate him to Eddie's koi pond.
Both fish are fairly restless, the goldfish because he's hyper and stupid like goldfish are, and the pleco because there's no filth in this tank (algae) for him to eat, so he's kind of sucking fruitlessly on all the rocks and the walls and not getting anything. We did make sure he ate-- when Z fed them, the goldfish missed a flake and the pleco found it and it, like, made his day, although his mouth parts aren't exactly suited to it, so he kind of thrashed around a while with it, like he was eating a dish towel, and finally managed to schlorp it down and then lay there sucking on the rock for a while, all happy. So he's not starving.
The fish need real names, but for now Plecosaurus and the Leviathan are the Pescado Non Grata.
The Internet informs me that plecos are fond of lettuce, canned green beans, and zucchini, so maybe if I'm feeling ambitious later I'll blanch a zuccini and stick it over the rim of the martini glass like a garnish, so he can suck on it and be all happy. He's cute when he's all happy. He's fairly disturbing from underneath (he's all alien mouthparts in constant motion eeeeugh), but on top he's all weird-eyes and speckly fins and almost-reptilian cuteness.
The goldfish is pretty dumb but at least he's pretty.
I don't know if we'll put Gibson into the tank with them after all. They're both herbivorous fish so theoretically they wouldn't view poor little Gib as prey, but he's so tiny and they're so big, they might eat him and not notice. And as bettas go, Gib is as full of hate as the usual, but he's also much more easily spooked, and I don't want to break his tiny mind. Which is, after all, really really really tiny.
I'll post pictures later: I have some of the pleco in the martini glass but I don't know yet whether they're in focus.
In other news...
My cousin is off the boat in Houston and should be flying to NY by now, as we speak.
I have to work this afternoon, oh boy.
As I discovered last year, the one upside to working on the holidays is that you don't gain weight. Because most of the calories I ingest on the Big Eating Days are appetizers and pre-dinner cocktails. So when you come through the door well after dinner, and find a plate with a serving of everything on it sitting under Saran wrap in the microwave, while everyone else is doing the dishes, then you tend to just eat what's in front of you and have maybe two drinks and perhaps dessert, and so you wind up not getting fat.
You also wind up not really having any fun, but, you know, whatever. I guess I'm thankful for the nutritional benefits of not too much fun. I'm also thankful that at least this phase of the holiday travel season is over because damn, we had us some cheap fucks yesterday. And the day before. And in fact all week it has been a Cheap Fuck-O-Rama party. (I mean, like, $0.25 on a $30 drink order, $0.01 for a beer, $1 for three sandwiches and three cokes [$30]... $0.00 for two beers brought out to his table but when he came back in and bought a beer at the bar he left the bartender $1... nice manners, asshole.)
I was going to repost my Thanksgiving Rant of like three years ago, but I didn't get to it. Y'all don't seem to need it anyway. I'm sort of not in a historical education kind of place anyway. But I would at least like to point out that Miles Standish and George Custer are very different people and from very different places and times, and oversimplifying the whole Native Americans vs. European Settlers thing does nobody any kind of service. I understand how painful the issue can be for people, but history isn't that simple, and reducing it to catchphrases doesn't really do anything but ruffle feathers. For the 2,000-word version of just how simple it wasn't, check my archives from Thanksgivings past.
I should go and brush my hair and put clothes on.... See y'all later.
They're fucking huge.
The goldfish has got to be seven inches long.
The plecostomus catfish is more like four inches but it's all mouth.
They're in the former Foosh Palace, which is set up sans plastic-canvas barriers-- and good thing too, as the goldfish is larger than the dividers-- and I put the giant martini glass that used to be Gibson's bowl in there as a decoration.
The pleco is sitting in it sucking on the side, and it's hilarious. He's like, drinking the world's largest martini, constantly.
He likes it in there because the hyper massive goldfish hasn't settled down and so is constantly swimming around, running into the pleco if he's in the way. So the martini glass is a safe haven. Which is good, as I'd kind of intended it that way. (It has glass ice cubes sitting in it and looks clever, I think.)
I've dubbed them Plecosaurus (he looks more like a dinosaur than a fish-- he's such a weird thing he doesn't even have scales) and the Leviathan. This goldfish-- seriously, Gibson is about the size of one of this fish's fins. I'd thought the goldfish would be like, maybe the size of my thumb. No. This is like... well, let's just say if he grows any more he'll be too big for this tank and we'll donate him to Eddie's koi pond.
Both fish are fairly restless, the goldfish because he's hyper and stupid like goldfish are, and the pleco because there's no filth in this tank (algae) for him to eat, so he's kind of sucking fruitlessly on all the rocks and the walls and not getting anything. We did make sure he ate-- when Z fed them, the goldfish missed a flake and the pleco found it and it, like, made his day, although his mouth parts aren't exactly suited to it, so he kind of thrashed around a while with it, like he was eating a dish towel, and finally managed to schlorp it down and then lay there sucking on the rock for a while, all happy. So he's not starving.
The fish need real names, but for now Plecosaurus and the Leviathan are the Pescado Non Grata.
The Internet informs me that plecos are fond of lettuce, canned green beans, and zucchini, so maybe if I'm feeling ambitious later I'll blanch a zuccini and stick it over the rim of the martini glass like a garnish, so he can suck on it and be all happy. He's cute when he's all happy. He's fairly disturbing from underneath (he's all alien mouthparts in constant motion eeeeugh), but on top he's all weird-eyes and speckly fins and almost-reptilian cuteness.
The goldfish is pretty dumb but at least he's pretty.
I don't know if we'll put Gibson into the tank with them after all. They're both herbivorous fish so theoretically they wouldn't view poor little Gib as prey, but he's so tiny and they're so big, they might eat him and not notice. And as bettas go, Gib is as full of hate as the usual, but he's also much more easily spooked, and I don't want to break his tiny mind. Which is, after all, really really really tiny.
I'll post pictures later: I have some of the pleco in the martini glass but I don't know yet whether they're in focus.
In other news...
My cousin is off the boat in Houston and should be flying to NY by now, as we speak.
I have to work this afternoon, oh boy.
As I discovered last year, the one upside to working on the holidays is that you don't gain weight. Because most of the calories I ingest on the Big Eating Days are appetizers and pre-dinner cocktails. So when you come through the door well after dinner, and find a plate with a serving of everything on it sitting under Saran wrap in the microwave, while everyone else is doing the dishes, then you tend to just eat what's in front of you and have maybe two drinks and perhaps dessert, and so you wind up not getting fat.
You also wind up not really having any fun, but, you know, whatever. I guess I'm thankful for the nutritional benefits of not too much fun. I'm also thankful that at least this phase of the holiday travel season is over because damn, we had us some cheap fucks yesterday. And the day before. And in fact all week it has been a Cheap Fuck-O-Rama party. (I mean, like, $0.25 on a $30 drink order, $0.01 for a beer, $1 for three sandwiches and three cokes [$30]... $0.00 for two beers brought out to his table but when he came back in and bought a beer at the bar he left the bartender $1... nice manners, asshole.)
I was going to repost my Thanksgiving Rant of like three years ago, but I didn't get to it. Y'all don't seem to need it anyway. I'm sort of not in a historical education kind of place anyway. But I would at least like to point out that Miles Standish and George Custer are very different people and from very different places and times, and oversimplifying the whole Native Americans vs. European Settlers thing does nobody any kind of service. I understand how painful the issue can be for people, but history isn't that simple, and reducing it to catchphrases doesn't really do anything but ruffle feathers. For the 2,000-word version of just how simple it wasn't, check my archives from Thanksgivings past.
I should go and brush my hair and put clothes on.... See y'all later.
