I am the Elizabeth Taylor of the feline world.

Sunday, December 30, 2007

White Trash Theater: A Play in Two Acts

So far we've had a pretty uneventful Christmas.

We visited Karen's parents for a couple of days, and now are chilling at home with Karen, who doesn't go back to work for another week. I've been helping Karen paint the kitchen and dining room. (Help in this case means sitting in a chair by the back door sunning while Karen curses and screams while attempting to remove the SIX layers of wallpaper behind the refrigerator.)

Not much to write home about right?

That is, until last night:

Thus, Sadie, Karen, and I would like to share a story straight from White Trash Theater.

In its original form this story contained a significant amount of profanity. Since many of my readers are surfing at work, I have decided to remove the profain language.

However, if I were your boss I'd fire your lazy ass. I'm not paying you people to goof around on the computer.

That being said, I'm not paying you at all. So please continue to read my blog.

Anyway, back to White Trash Theatre

As you know we live in redneck Hell, meaning if we walk to the end of the alley leading to the street we can see a line of fireworks stands up for your enjoyment between Christmas and New Years (and a couple of days afterwards). Karen hates the firework stands for a variety of reason I've mentioned in previous posts (for more information on this subject, see http://penelopeandsadie.blogspot.com/2007/07/redneck-hell-and-skanks-who-live-here.html). Anyway, the stands are up and once again it sounds likes Afghanistan out in our neck of the woods.

But that's besides the point.

Act One:

Karen, Sadie and I were on the way home from Karen's parents when the SUV driving in front of us came to a sudden stop. The driver got out of the car and walked to the side. Karen, a curious sort, rolled down her window to hear what was going on:

SUV Driver: What the Hell are you doing?

At this point we see that he is talking to a blonde woman, about 38ish, wearing a sea foam green tube top and denim shorts.

Tube Top: I'm standin' here (Here being the middle of a two lane street in which people drive roughly 50 mph.)

SUV Driver: You're in the middle of the street.

Tube Top: I can stand wherever I want.

At this point, Karen realizes that to her right, on the shoulder of the road, a group of people have set up a makeshift party in front of a fireworks stand. Of course, this party appeared to include alcohol.

SUV Driver: Get the (expletive) out of the road.

Tube Top: Watch your(same expletive) language you cheap bastard.

I have no idea how Tube Top knew this man was a "cheap bastard". Perhaps they were high school sweethearts back at Choate Rosemary, got engaged senior year at Harvard and broke up due to SUV Driver being a "cheap bastard", thus causing Tube Top to, well, become Tube Top, who now resorts to drinking on the side of the road outside a fireworks stand.


Next was just a bunch of screaming and yelling about "you can't be in the street" and "yes I can", sprinkled with the occasional expletive used in a variety of formats. Isn't it amazing how that word (and we all know to which word I am referring) can be used in a myriad of ways?

Anyway . . .

Oddly enough none of Tube Top's buddies came to her defense. They starred at the exchanged, just as I did, shook their heads, and began pouring a substance from a bottle into a variety of paper cups.

Karen, in defense of SUV Driver (and because she really just wanted to go home), honked her horn. In return SUV Driver flips off Karen.

Cheap and Classy

At this point there are two cars behind Karen. A police car was not too far away (probably needed to bring fireworks home to the kiddoes) and pulled around Karen's car to see the live action for himself. At this moment, the Boone's Farm tasting group is collecting their products very quickly and heading off into the night (or in the direction of the fireworks stand) with a Budweiser cooler in tow.

Police Officer: What the Hell is going on here?

SUV Driver: She won't get out of road.

Police Officer: Get out of the road.

Tube Top: I don't have to!

Police Officer: You do unless you want to go with me.

Tube Top: You can't arrest me that's against my constitutional rights.

I'm no lawyer, but did Thomas Jefferson plan to protect drunk woman wearing tube tops in December from being arrested for standing in the middle of the street? Interesting constitutional debate . . .

Police Officer: I have too much to do to stand around here and handle this petty (expletive-- means fecal matter). Get out of the road now or I'm cuffing you.

Tube Top got out of the road.

Police Officer headed off.

SUV Driver got back into his car.

Karen drove home.


Act Two:

Karen is sitting in the living room reading a book. Sadie is-- I don't know where Sadie is, it doesn't matter. I'm hanging out in the entry hall.

Doorbell Rings

Karen looks through the peep hole, sighs, and opens the door. Tube Top is standing on her porch.

Karen: Yes

Tube Top (kind of swaying): Did you just get home?

Karen: (pausing) Yes

Tube Top: Did you see that man hit me?

Karen: Who hit you?

Tube Top: That man in the Explorer.

(Actually it was a Tahoe-- but who cares)

Karen: No I didn't see him hit you.

Tube Top: Well he hit me.

Karen: I'm sorry.

Tube Top: I'll split the money with you if you change your mind about what you saw.

Karen: That's OK. I'd rather not perjure myself. I'll see you later.

And Karen shuts the door.


We are hoping to move before summer. I don't think we'll ever have neighbors like these again.

Thanks for the memories, Redneck Hell.


Saturday, December 29, 2007

Rush Limbaugh's Cat

"My cat -- here's how you can get fooled. My cat comes to me when she wants to be fed. I have learned this. I accept it for what it is. Many people in my position would think my cat's coming to me because she loves me. Well, she likes me, and she is attached, but she comes to me when she wants to be fed. And after I feed her -- guess what -- she's off to wherever she wants to be in the house, until the next time she gets hungry. She's smart enough to know she can't feed herself. She's actually a very smart cat. She gets loved. She gets adoration. She gets petted. She gets fed. And she doesn't have to do anything for it, which is why I say this cat's taught me more about women, than anything my whole life. But we put voices in their mouths."
-- Rush Limbaugh

Rush Limbaugh made this statement over a year ago. According to Karen the comment explains why Mr. Limbaugh has been married three times.

I was offended as well. How dare Limbaugh compare my species to humankind? Mortal women are way needier than cats. I know this because I live with one and I've heard her analyze and decipher all kinds of ridiculousness with friends (female ones). Karen calls this "talking". I call it "absurd", "needy", or just plain "stupid" and it's tying up the phone line when I'm waiting to hear from Les Moonves regarding the terms of my reality show.

(Stop laughing-- if those yahoos who live in Hugh Hefner's house can have one why not me???)

Anyway . . .

Mr. Limbaugh doesn't comprehend the reality of his domestic life. He lives in the home of a cat. Not the other way around. Anyone who disagrees with this has obviously never experienced life with a cat. Furthermore, if he doesn't take care of his job as the man who lives in the home of the cat (or hire someone to take care of these responsibilities), said cat will send him on his merry way.


Granted, Karen and I have our ups and downs but she knows what I expect of her and she knows the consequences for not completing those tasks. For the most part, she does a half-ass job and I either accept it or I retaliate by having Sadie vomit on random objects in the house. This is much easier than packing her stuff and putting it out by the front door while she's at work.

Limbaugh better watch out. Pumpkin (Limbaugh's cat-- I looked this up) might reconsider the relationship. Probably she won't just leave him. Here are some things Pumpkin might consider as revenge to her master:

Actually, I don't think I'm revealing feline secrets here. If ole Pumpkin has a plan I don't want to give the details away.

I haven't listened to Rush Limbaugh in quite a while. If any of you guys are fans, please send him over to my blog so that he may be enlightened. Perhaps he will have what alcoholics (or drug addicts) call a moment of clarity and begin spreading good will to all mankind.

Not bloody likely, through.

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

And a Merry Christmas to all . . .

Karen did not get to sending out the Christmas letter I so meticulously labored over. Thus, I am posting it here for all to read.
Dear Friends:

Karen asked me, on behalf of our family, to write the first annual Christmas letter. At first I told her no. I am busy enough with my blog and other household activities to take on anything else. But after some whining and the offer of a shameless plug, I finally conceded. After all, Karen wouldn’t do it. And Sadie is functionally illiterate, so that just leaves me.

I’m so put upon.

Karen and I got into a heated argument around New Year's Day. I wanted to start a blog. I expected Karen to be completely supportive of me and type the entries. She refused. Because I had to learn to type, the blog timeline was set back by three months.

February is the month in which we wait anxiously for baseball spring training to begin. Sadie and I got shots. Karen yelled at me for going after the vet’s glasses.

I continued to work on my typing skills, with little help from Karen.

We enjoyed watching and listening to many a spring training game during the month of March. After much thought, Karen decided to return to teaching, which meant Karen would no longer work twelve hour days six days a week and would be home more often (lucky me).

Continued to hone typing skills. . .

April 25, 2007 is a date worth earmarking as historic: I launched my blog, no thanks to selfish Karen, who refused to type.

Karen began interviewing for teaching positions in early May. Happily, on her 33rd birthday, she was offered a position, a blessing in that the offer was in her favorite area: American Literature and AP Language and Composition.

Sadie and I got ponchos from Karen’s friend Robyn, who must be a famous fashion designer, as her work is such high quality.

I don’t remember much about June. The most significant event was most likely our neighbor’s toilet overflowing into the living room and Karen cursing his existence.

Karen’s brother evil Jeff and his lovely and very pregnant wife Sylvia moved out of Karen’s parent’s house and into their new home. After months of excessive vomiting and general ill health, baby Sofie was born a few days later. She is really cute, although evil Jeff’s offspring. Somewhere this month we stopped watching the ‘Stros, as their season was abysmal.

Karen began her new job. We had two false alarm hurricane scares. Out of boredom, I began turning the water on in the kitchen sink while Karen was at work. This didn't make Karen particularly happy, not that it matters.

Karen is still working. She told me she would continue this habit until May, at which time she would not work for three months. Personally, I really don’t care about this as long as all my needs are met. She seems to like her new job and the people she works with—at least I’m not hearing about general irritations if said irritations do exist.


October was a very disconcerting month for me: Karen’s mother made Sadie and I Halloween costumes. This travesty set forth a series of events, which merit perhaps a call to the ACLU.

The week before Thanksgiving, Karen brought home Santa hats for Sadie and me. We are now expected to wear them in front of the Christmas tree and pose for pictures. This little activity was quite a disaster and some blood was shed in the process.

Karen’s career is taking up a significant amount of time. I’m having trouble getting her to complete simple household tasks like adding enough food to our bowl so that I don’t have to eat the morsels which touch the actual bowl itself.

Thanksgiving week, Karen began hard core preparation of her home. She would like to get it on the market before year’s end (we shall see. . .)

The last week of the month of November, Karen bought a brand new car. This is the first brand new car she’s ever owned, so she is very happy.

Karen is still working on the house. We’ve packed up much of our stuff and over Christmas break Sadie and I will be moving into her parent’s home until all this house stuff is settled and I get a new place to live. Thankfully, Karen’s parents bought a new computer; if we must live there I need to have internet access to work on my blog.

I am considering branching out into the television arena. Right now I'm developing a reality show aptly titled "I Don't Pretend to be an Ordinary Cat". I'm thinking the networks will pick it up before next spring.

All in all, it’s been quite a year of excitement and change. Karen, Sadie and I all hope your year has been as fruitful as ours. We wish you many blessings and much enjoyment in the future.

Much Love,

Penelope, Sadie, and Karen

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Georgia O'Keefe and the Ladies of Rick's Caberet

Have you ever ventured to an Internet search engine, typed exactly what you wanted information about, and found a myriad of data about numerous things, although interesting, not suited to your purpose?

I caught a bit on the news this evening about a "stripper tax". Intrigued, I went to Google to get more information. From the results of "stripper tax" I discovered that in Australia there are some very interesting tax write offs for workers in "adult" industries:


From this information, I have another question: is prostitution legal in Australia?

Anyway, back to the Texas stripper tax . . .


Actually, it's not a "tax" per say, but more like a "surcharge" of five bucks per head at each and every establishment which provides live "nude" entertainment.

What constitutes "nude"?

Does "nude" mean "nude"? Or does "nude" mean "topless"???


The projected revenue on this little endeavor is 44 million smackers.

That's 8,800,000 lecherous old men, frat boys, out of town businessmen, dudes at bachelor parties, and whatever other stereotype would enjoy being entertained by practically naked women.

To put this figure in perspective, the population of Texas is 23,507,783. The population of the city of Houston (fourth largest city in the United States) is 2,144,491 (2006 numbers).

I'm a little shocked.

8.8 million visitors to strip bars each year in Texas?

Evidently, these businesses in Texas have slightly more than 24,000 patrons a day.

That's a lot of boob watchin'.

Does this mean the circumstances in which Anna Nicole Smith met J. Howard Marshall are normal???

Anyway . . .

Owners of these establishments are whining about losing business. A couple of lawsuits exist. One of which cites "artistic freedom of expression".

Pole dancing is a form of "artistic freedom of expression"???

Sure, why not??? I'm very confident that the fellows with the National Endowment of the Arts would be tickled pink to fund the artistic expression of strippers.

It would give Republicans something to whine about.

Anyway, the state mandated cover charge begins January 1st. The money goes to sexual assault prevention and health care for the uninsured.

Kind of like the lottery supporting education.


Thursday, December 13, 2007

What do Charlie Sheen and Mo Vaughn have in common???

While watching Good Night and Good Luck, I was inspired to post about McCarthyism and the like.

The timing on this is totally ironic, as the Mitchell Report was released just yesterday. I downloaded in a PDF file, thinking I could post it as a link or something, but I don't know how.

You can email me if you want it at penelopeandsadie@aol.com.

Be warned: the bugger is 409 pages long.

I don't want to bore you with a summary. No, my agenda is much different.

I'm just going to talk about the interesting stuff:

To begin with, baseball dropped the ball (I just had to use that pun) and "missed the early warning signs of a growing crisis" (22).

This is my favorite example of the fore mentioned ball dropping:

". . . bullpen catcher with the Montreal Expos was arrested for trying to send marijuana back to Florida with the Florida Marlins’ luggage. He later told Major League Baseball security officials that he had supplied drugs to nearly two dozen major league players, including eight players for whom he said he had procured steroids" (23).

First of all, who sends pot "back to Florida"? Isn't pot readily available in Florida? Granted, this is pre 9/11 security, but what dumb ass tries to smuggle drugs in luggage destined for an airplane? Talk about a sense of entitlement . . .

To be fair baseball acts now on such incidents. They are seeing the errors of the past and trying to rebuild.

But it gets so much better. . .

Before 2002, baseball had a "reasonable cause" policy with steroid testing (23).

What constitutes "reasonable cause"?

Are they looking for shrunken testicles? Back achne? Bouts of rage or general obnoxiousness?

And then there's Kirk Radomski, Mets clubhouse employee. This amazes me:

Radomski provided both Mitchell and the Feds with cancelled checks, deposit slips, phone records, and shipping labels (26).

I always wondered why Charlie Sheen used personal checks to pay for services rendered by the employees of Heidi Fleiss. I think the same question applies here.

Again, what a sense of entitlement.

I read a good portion of this and got bored with the rest, so I am putting it aside for now. I don't like the infamous list. It's too Red Scare. Some of the evidence is heresay and speculation. My philosophy of justice doesn't swing that way. I don't want to wreck someones entrance into the Hall of Fame based on he said/ she said, possibly with agendas.

Now we have baseball's favorite asshole Jose Canseco shouting that the list should be longer and naming others who should join in his personal infamy. My favorite mercenary Roger Clemons hired famed Houston attorney Rusty Hardin (represented accounting firm Arthur Anderson after the Enron debacle and the family of Anna Nicole Smith's old man-- you remember-- "Screw you, Rusty") to see what legal action could be taken in this case. I'm assuming he feels this is a form of slander.

That or Mr. Clemens has quite a sense of entitlement as well.

Who knows, maybe it is.

Any time large sums of money are connected to performance, there will be cheating. That doesn't make it acceptable, but it will happen.

And it took a cat to come up with this epiphany?

I'm now bored of this subject. Right now I'm watching a documentary about fundamental Christians in the United States. My favorite Baptist Jimmy Carter is about to discuss the fallacies of fundamentalism.

And them I'm off for a nap.

Go 'Stros!!!


Page Numbers indicate information from the Mitchell Report

Other Sources Used:

Official Boston Red Sox Website

CBS Evening News

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Tis the Season of Six to Eight Black Men

David Sedaris, who has a book coming out this summer, wrote an essay about Christmas traditions in the Netherlands.


I wish I knew how to embed the You Tube screen. Alas, I do not, so you'll have to click on the link.

I've watched this like a hundred times and it totally cracks me up still.

Adios Amigos!!!

Saturday, December 8, 2007

Good Night and Good Luck

"We must not confuse dissent with disloyalty. When the loyal opposition dies, I think the soul of America dies with it."

-- Edward R. Murrow

Karen bought the DVD of Good Night and Good Luck. If you haven't seen this film, it's important.


As patriotic Americans, you should rent the DVD. Karen think it's great too, but she's not credible in that, as you all well know, she is in love with George Clooney. When asked, Karen said she didn't understand the Clooney obsession until seeing Good Night and Good Luck. Then she caught a full blown case of the Clooney fever. It's quite a dilemma for her, in that her allegiance to Colin Firth went back to the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice.

Anyway . . .

The film is about Edward R. Murrow's interview of Joseph McCarthy on See It Now, a news show during a time when news shows didn't involve Britney Spears or O.J. Simpson.
How odd. . . I bet they weren't broadcasting pedophile stings, either.

Interesting fact: the original three major networks (actually two at that time) were required to broadcast thirty minutes of national news every evening, as each was making boo coos of money and this thirty minutes was seen as a way to "give back". The news isn't profitable.
That is, until news became more sensationalized. Truth" is relative in the media. I don't know who to believe most of the time. My solution is to believe no one and get the information from a myriad of sources, assuming that each is telling me a different part of the "truth".
Anyway that's my answer, I'd love to hear others.
Since we're on the subject of media sensationalism and journalistic responsibility, I thought this pick for Songs Karen Likes and I Approve was appropriate:
Dirty Laundry (Don Henley)
"Come and whisper in my ear. Give us dirty laundry."
That is, after my nap. This philosophical thinking has made me quite tired.

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

Born to Run, except when Dancing in the Dark through the Badlands wearing a Brilliant Disguise

OK, when Karen bought her car she got six months free of satellite radio. Philosophically speaking, Karen is against the whole idea of "paying" for radio.

"What does this do to local radio?" Karen asked me. "How would we listen to Astros games without local radio?"

This isn't an issue that concerns me all too much. I only ride in a car every couple of weeks or so. I watch the Astros on television at home.

Furthermore, all Karen knew about satellite radio was it made Howard Stern a very wealthy man. Karen is against everything and anything affiliated with Howard Stern. Let me say it this way: Karen is accepting of Rush Limbaugh, despite disagreeing with about 99 percent of everything he says. She even occasionally will listen to his take, just for the purpose of hearing another side. It all goes back to "I may not agree with what you say, but I will fight to the death for your right to say it" (Voltaire).

Unless, that is, you are Howard Stern. Karen believes since Stern contributes NOTHING to the good of America, he should be strung up and eaten by wild dogs.

Anyway, dignity and concern for common man-- radio guys working hard in the local market-- and her puritanical philosophical disagreement with Stern has now gone to the wayside.

Karen discovered E Street Radio.

AKA all Bruce Springsteen all day, all the time.

Please remember satellite doesn't have commercial interruptions.

Karen told me she hears "Thunder Road" every time she gets into the car.

This is a sad state of affairs.

Anyway our song today, which Karen likes and I approve:

"Human Touch" (Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band)



G0 Stros!!!

Sunday, December 2, 2007

It's Not Easy Being Green

Karen decided two weeks ago that she wanted a new car.
To help her out, I did a little research and got several quotes from dealers around town on cars I thought would be suitable for us. My thinking at the time was perhaps something like a Mercedes S class.
"What in God's name are you doing?" Karen said when I handed her the bids. "I'm not spinding $85,000 on a car."

Why do I even bother?
Anyway, Karen ended up buying a kiwi green Ford Escape. It's pretty cute. She's happy.
I still want the Mercedes though.
Oh well . . .