A Series of Unfortunate Events

It's been quite a wild week. Let me bring you up to speed with me:

God's Toilet Flood of 2007
Karen was getting out of the shower Saturday morning when the phone rang. It was our neighbor, informing her that his toilet overflowed during the night and most likely water seeped into my house. Since it was about seven, Karen had not been downstairs yet.

Sadie and I were still in bed. We don't get out of bed until about nine on Saturdays.

Karen walked downstairs to discover, yes, the downstairs carpet was saturated with water and the kitchen was covered as well.

Karen was not thrilled. Nor was I as Karen sucked up water in the kitchen with the wet vac. I hate the wet vac. It's loud. It disturbs me. When she finished with the wet vac, I sat on the stairs and watched her pull up wet carpet and pad and take it to the garage. It made me exhausted just watching her.

So anyway, most of this week I've spent listening to Karen gripe about the carpet, gripe about her neighbor, and gripe about the "rotten bloodsucking insurance company" which claims a neighbor's toilet overflowing is an "act of God". I've also learned about subjugation, which is legal mumbo jumbo meaning that Karen's insurance company does not agree the neighbor's toilet overflowing is an "act of God".

Whatever.

All I know is I don't like walking on cold concrete to eat my meals or to get on the couch to take my late afternoon nap.

This, by the way, is only the beginning.

The Big Announcement
Karen has decided the toilet flood of 2007 was a message from God telling her she needed to get on the ball as far as preparing the house for sale. She was planning on doing this eventually, probably late August or September, but since she has to replace the carpet, I guess she decided immediately was as good of a time as any.

So my house is being sold right from under me.

Do I not get a say in this?

And it gets worse.

Vacation
Karen told Sadie and me last night that next week that we would be "visiting grandma" before the move.

It really irritates me Karen refers to her parents as "Grandma" and "Grandpa" when talking to Sadie and me. They aren't my or Sadie's grandparents any more than Karen is my mother or Sadie is my sister.

Whatever.

Evidently, Karen is replacing carpet and she doesn't want to chance any of us (including herself) messing it up. For this reason, she is moving us to the home of Babs and Johnny while my house is up for sale.

She keeps telling us that we will have our own room and our own space and that she'll even bring our good kitty box with us.

I'm still not happy.

Babs and Johnny are simply not very appreciative of me. If I'm resting on the furniture I'm expected to move if one of them wants to sit. They act as if I'm a mad serial killer and go and get Karen to move me.

What do they think I'm going to do?

Never mind, I think we all know what I'm going to do. But I would like to point out that I've never actually killed anyone.

And then there's Jeff.

Karen swore to me that by the time we are staying with Babs and Johnny that Jeff and Sylvia (Jeff's very pregnant wife) will be gone and living in their new house. But it doesn't matter. Jeff will still come around. He's just like that. And we'll end up fighting again.

I can't be held responsible for my actions if a 6'7 250 pound man picks a fight with me. I'll have to defend myself.

Karen has promised this is not a permanent arrangement. She swears up and down that we'll only stay until the house sells and then we'll move again to a new house.

Still, I like my house.

My Own Ailments
Karen has decided I have a "rash" (flaky skin is a more accurate description) on my neck underneath my collar. So she took off my collar last night and put some moisturizer on my neck, which made my fur kind of sticky and smelly but whatever. The great part of not wearing a collar is that I can sneak up on people now. I love it. I've snuck up on Sadie about twenty times today. She's in a paranoid fit as I type, looking around the corner on ledges, etc., waiting for me to pounce. I even got Karen this morning. I hid under the sink and when I heard her entering the bathroom I jumped out and bit her on the ankle. She again said things which are not appropriate for good society and threatened to put my collar back on.

Whatever.

Anyway, that's been the drama I've dealt with this week. I'm exhausted thinking about it.

And now a ten year old message from the former Attorney General

"Now, the opera gets a subsidy from the National Endowment for the Arts, but by and large, Willie Nelson and Garth Brooks don't. Those of us that drive our pickups to those concerts don't get a subsidy, but the people who drive their Mercedes to the opera get a subsidy."

-- John Ashcroft, then Republican Senator-- Missouri, September 18, 1997

If you would like to subsidize Willie Nelson or Garth Brooks, I'm sure they'd take donations. The easiest way would be to start purchasing CD's and stop illegally downloading their music!

I asked Karen for some insight and she said she wasn't familiar enough with Garth Brooks to comment, but she thought any subsidy given to Willie Nelson would most likely go to purchasing large quantities of pot or various hallucinogens. This didn't sound like something I wanted to support.

Karen did have a good chuckle at the idea that Ashcroft would include himself in the pick up driving sect, though.

Anyway, this typing has made me tired. I hope Mr. Nelson and Mr. Brooks can find food tonight. If they can't, I'm not sharing mine!

The Cat is Back

I thought I should dispel any rumors about my whereabouts as of late:

1. No, I am not Paris Hilton's spiritual advisor. She conferences with Barbara Walters

2. I did not run off with George Clooney. First of all, I'm a cat. I have no interest in George Clooney. He's just another human working stiff. Also, I've been spade. I have no yearnings, thanks to Karen, who would run off with George Clooney tomorrow, if she had the option. (And she had me spade???)

3. I was not in jail for attempted murder (or anything else for that matter). The authorities do not intimidate me. I can take the best of them.

4. I am not a contestant on the Bachelor. Again, I was spade in 2002. Furthermore, isn't the bachelor just a very small step above harems?

5. I did not get tickets to the NBA finals. I don't attend public sporting events. It's too loud.

6. I was not taking an extended nap brought on by a viewing of An Inconvenient Truth. I'm only an environmentalist to irritate Karen. I'm not about to do anything that would change my life.

7. I am not campaigning for Ron Paul. This is because I am a cat, and once again, CATS DO NOT WORK, or do anything which requires much effort. If Dr. Paul is relying on me to fund raise-- well, that explains why he doesn't have much money.

8. I was not lounging at a Scientology center. From what I gather about Scientology, I need to give them money to visit a "center". This is ridiculous, by the way. I have no pockets, how can anyone expect me to have money? They should want me to come just because I'm me.

9. I have not been chewing out Michael Moore for not including felines in his movie about the medical industry. Again, I'm a cat. I really don't have much to say about this, other than I'm against ANYTHING that allows Karen to take me more often to that place with the wretched man who sticks a cold tube up my ass, with very little apologies. He does this and then shines a light in my eyes and I'm the one who gets in trouble for making an attempt on his life.

There are some things I just don't understand.

Anyway, my absence has nothing to do with anything other than I didn't feel like working much during the day and when I did feel like writing Karen was home and allegedly needed to use the computer for "work". We had a nasty fight over this. I had Sadie barf in her underwear drawer.

Alls Fair in Love and War

Just Say No . . .

I've been gone for a while.

I hope you survived without me.

Saturday, Karen and I were watching baseball on Fox. We were both very impressed with Major League Baseball's anti steroid PSA, which played almost every inning.

However, isn't it ironic that we see the anti steroid message, detailing the health problems created through the use of anabolic steroids, but during the game the announcer cuts into the Astros/ White Sox game to cover Barry Bonds?

No really kids, don't do steroids.

Go 'Stros