Hissing Black Cats and Other Topics

All I can say is this: at least I got sequins.

Anyway, happy belated Halloween. I answered the door for trick or treaters. It was kind of fun sitting in the window, waiting for the kiddoes to arrive.

"I expect you to be on your best behavior," Karen told me. "That means no hissing."

Oh for crying out loud it's Halloween. I think a hissing black cat is highly appropriate.

Back in redneck hell we didn't get too many trick or treaters. One or two at best. Interestingly enough, more Halloweens than not Karen was called out of town for work, so most of our Halloween experiences have been at Karen's parent's house. Last year she was at a conference in Austin, the year before she was at a conference in Los Angeles, the year before that she was, well, at a very crazy Halloween party hosted by one of her nutty teacher friends. This year we are staying at home and answering the door.

A Change in Plans

OK, as you know I started posting the "Colin Firth Moment of the Week" about a month ago. I was changing out the clips on Sunday, but since I was kidnapped Saturday, it didn't happen last week. Anyway, that misstep gave me an idea:

Firth Fridays

Every Friday I will change out the clip instead, hence the name "Firth Fridays".

Like you people give a rat's ass. Whatever. Let me tell you about this clip from the movie Love Actually.

Karen loves this clip and calls it "romantic" and "wonderful". However, I personally find it "creepy" and "ill advised".

To begin with, she doesn't know the dude. Yeah, he's British and Colin Firth, but this is a movie and she doesn't know that. She doesn't even speak his language. He could have been asking/ telling her all kinds of things, like "are you into stamps?" or "I collect pieces of human flesh" while she cleaned house smiling so sweetly.

"Colin would never do that," Karen replied to the idea of the Firth being a stamp collecting serial killer. "It's simply impossible."

And exactly how would she know???

Other Issues

I know you people are waiting with baited breath about my take on the Madonna thing.

No really?

Madonna and Guy Richie are splitting up?

I'm so totally shocked.

Personally, if I were Guy I would have held out a little longer. With no prenump he easily could have gotten $300 million.

Whatever

Right now they are fighting over custody. Madonna wants to take the kiddoes to New York and Guy wants them to continue living in London.

I think the team of 24/7 nannies/ housekeepers/ whoever should make the decision.

Da Book Business

We are now about ninety percent unpacked. Last weekend Karen tackled probably the most difficult part of the unpacking process: the books.

21 boxes of books Karen brought to our new house.

She organized by alpha order this time. Last time Karen had a complicated system of genre then alpha. It was too much so we went totally alpha order.

Karen would personally like to thank all of those people who over the years borrowed books and didn't return them. Otherwise, we might be closer to thirty boxes.

Anyway, I hope all is good with you guys. Sorry I haven't been around as much as of late. I'm going to start being a little more diligent with the posting.

Go 'Stros

Kidnapped

Have you missed me?

Well, I haven't had the opportunity to post as last Saturday as I was kidnapped.

Yes, kidnapped

By Karen

First she kidnapped Sadie. Innocently taking a nap in the guest room, Karen grabbed her and shoved Sadie in her carrier. I knew at that moment I needed to stay sparse. But Sadie kept whining as Karen loaded other things into her car. It got on my nerves, so I walked downstairs to tell Sadie off. Then it happened:

Karen grabbed me and took me immediately to the car.

She continued to pack random things (including Sadie) and then we headed off. I protested the entire distance, pointing out that I expressly stated on a number of occasions that I had no intention of moving and that if Karen didn't take me back to her parent's house I would be forced to call the authorities.

Karen laughed at me. She simply doesn't take me seriously.

Anyway, we got to the new house and I looked around. It doesn't have stairs. How am I supposed to get my cardio? However, it has awesome windows and a tiled entry hall for naps.

Everything is basically unpacked. We are enjoying things and plan to post pictures soon. Right now I know I have other obligations to fulfill with you guys so let's move on . . .

Obama Overdose

I didn't watch the infomercial tonight.

Does that make me a horrible cat?

Quite frankly, I don't care anymore.

I Got Nothin'
Anyway, I'm exhausted. I gotta go

Go 'Stros

Totally Random Moment

I'm watching SNL.

I simply CANNOT tell the real Sarah Palin from Tina Fey.

It's freaking me out.

You Can Do It. We Can Help-- Once We Get Over the Munchies

Karen this morning bought a refrigerator for the new house at one of the typical places one might purchase a refrigerator, particularly if one plans to use it in one's HOME.

She very quickly found what she wanted. However, no salesman was to be found.

So she waited.

And waited

And waited

Finally, Karen sauntered over the kitchen cabinet section, where she found four people sitting around a desk area.

"Hello," she said to the group. "Could I purchase a refrigerator? Like right now?"

Three of them looked over to a guy about fifty, who walked with a limp and had a very obvious tattoo of an anchor on his forearm. He followed Karen towards the refrigerator of her choice.

"Would you like me to tell you about this one or would you just prefer to make the purchase?" he asked.

In all honesty, Karen did not need to hear his speech on this particular unit. However, she happened to noticed that the guy smelled like marijuana. After carefully weighing her options, Karen decided to get the full sales experience from the stoned dude.

At minimum, it would be an AWESOME story to tell her friends at work on Monday.

Anyway, so the salesman told her all about the features: the ledge on the butter dish, which keeps things from falling off, the lock on the ice and water dispenser so that little kids don't flood the house, etc.

"So do you have a husband?" he asked Karen.

"No, not so much," she replied.

"OK, I'm going to pick on you now: let's say your girlfriend spills something on the shelf . . ."

At this point Karen stopped listening. So now, because she's not married, Karen is a lesbian?

Obviously he's one of the few Americans who doesn't read the blog.

Granted, this is Texas, but what century does this character live in?

Once again, Karen weighs her options. She could be weirded out, drive seven miles down the road to another store which sells HOME appliances, to buy the same refrigerator, but again, I've trained Karen to recognize wonderful moments in comedy. Thus, she stuck around.

Anyway, the stoned guy took Karen back to the desk area to complete paperwork. He had a lot of trouble entering her address and getting the delivery time and date, mainly, I guess because he was STONED.

At one point he asked for Karen's driver's license.

"Oh, look at that. You look so pretty in that picture," he told her. "You must of just gotten out of bed."

I could not make this up. Yes, Karen was just told she looked bad by a dude with an anchor tattoo and visible nose hairs.

"Dude, I'm at Home Depot and clearly you are not Mr. Blackwell," Karen said indignantly.

Actually, that's not what Karen said. Karen only comes up with smart ass comments like two hours after she needs them. In reality, Karen just looked at him like "What a dumb ass".

So Karen bought a refrigerator.

From a stoned dude

Who thought Karen was a lesbian

With visible nose hairs

Who clearly has not attended any form of sales training

Karen now has a question for you, my readers of discriminating taste:

She's been selected to complete a "customer satisfaction survey" online. She's planning on doing it, as she'd be entered into a sweepstakes to win a $5,000 gift certificate.

How forthcoming should Karen be in this case?

Chuckalicious

Ohmigosh, have I had a weekend:

Karen's mother's birthday was Wednesday. Thus, I feel compelled to write her a somewhat belated birthday letter:

Dear Karen's Mom:

I wanted to wish you a happy birthday and tell you thanks for all of the things you do for Sadie and me when Karen is slacking on her duties as house manager. When Karen heads off for work and doesn't fill the our bowl, leaving me to eat what touches the plastic dish, you always step in and take care of business. Truly, I appreciate that more than you know.

As my birthday present to you, I have decided to honor you with my undying gratitude and admiration. I told Karen to buy you a Mercedes, but she said that you wanted a tree for the backyard instead. I suggested an orchard, but she said you weren't the "orchard" type.

Truthfully, I think that's code for Karen is cheap and lazy. You really should have raised her better. But what can you do?

Anyway, we hope your birthday is lovely. Sadie and I think you are fabulous.

-- P

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

He's baaack. . .

Chuck

The Chuckster

Chuck a luck a luckster.

I think Chuck is addicted to methanphetomines. His eyes are bloodshot and he's always moving around fast and erratically. I really don't think Karen's parents should allow a known drug addict into their home. I mean what if he starts burning the Sudafed to get a fix? I read somewhere that meth is highly flammable and dangerous. I can't have our house exploding, like on one of those tabloid news shows. After all, I'm Penelope the Cat, I have a reputation to uphold.

"Chuck is not a meth addict," Karen told me. "He's bug eyed so stuff irritates his eyes easily and for crying out loud he's a puppy. Stop judging him."

Whatever.

"And don't be going online and telling all your blog friends that Chuck is a meth addict. That's not responsible journalism."

Too late

Furthermore, he ate some of my food. Actually, he ate a lot of my food. I know this because he left dog stench and slobber all over.

He also sat in my chair.

That dog has some nerve. Thankfully, he's leaving Monday morning, so I'll have some peace and quiet.

Sadie is ready for him to go as well. She's taken a liking to Karen's mom and they to the crossword puzzle together in the evenings. When Chuck is here, Sadie does not feel particularly comfortable curling up on the couch with the evening paper.

I don't think he's sanitary either. One of the first things he did when he got in town Saturday afternoon was crap all over the living room. You should have seen it. He left poop on the floor, on the rug, by the back door. I've never seen so much crap in my life that wasn't confined in my litter box, of course.

Anyway, all is pretty good with my world right now. O.J. Simpson got convicted of stealing sports crap. Saturday Night Live hasn't had political sketches this good since, well, ever. And Karen and I are upstairs in our room. She is grading papers and I am sitting quietly with watching Ironman on her DVD player. Sadie is in the bathroom chillin in the sink. And for some weird reason my computer is not letting me paragraph break. Freakin' Crazy. Go 'Stros.