I totally stole this from my good friend Billy Pilgrim, as I love "pimple on the arse of journalism" almost as much as "asshats", which I haven't figured out how to use in a sentence yet, but still I am looking for a way to work it into daily conversation.
Being that I am providing you, the educated reader of discriminating taste with a plethora of knowledge, I have decided that I am a journalist.
Karen begs to differ.
"At best you are a editorialist," she told me. "Occasionally you would fall into the category of satirist. Mostly, I'd say you are a critic."
"I can't call you a journalist because you offer too many opinions," she informed me. "Besides you do virtually no investigation and don't even leave the house."
"Furthermore, journalists don't sleep eighteen hours a day."
How does she know what a journalist does?
Whatever. But what if my opinions are right? Could that give me any credibility?
"An opinion can't be right. It's just an opinion."
Oh please. Karen clearly is misinformed.
So what else can I tell you???
Congratulations to Our Blogger Friend
Speaking of journalists . . .
Our good friend Reid Kerr, at Reid About It (see link list) just got hitched.
Isn't that great???
You guys should all go over to his site and send your kudos.
More About Me and My Troubles
I am still at Karen's parent's house. Sadie takes refuge most of the time under Karen's parent's bed. I prefer to hang out in one of the upstairs bedrooms.
Mostly things are very quiet. The spawn of evil Jeff hangs out with us only for a few hours in the morning and since she does not roam upstairs, I am very capable of keeping myself safe. Karen comes by every day or two to visit.
Sometimes I miss her. Right now I'm exploring other options though. I mean, Karen's mom does a pretty good job of feeding us and, quite frankly, she does a hands down better job of keeping the box clean. I'm not saying I'm planning on replacing Karen just yet, but if she refuses to take me seriously as a journalist, I think I might need to consider other options.
A really cool thing about Karen's parent's house: the birds.
They have these birds that are very arrogant and get right up on the front porch really close to the door. Karen's mom gripes about the bird crap on the door frame constantly. All I'm going to say is this: just give me just one shot at those birds and the bird poop problem is over.