Happy Holidays

We have several of issues on the agenda today, so let's get to it:

SUV Mama

First of all, my good friend Jessica, aka "The SUV Driving Bitch Your Mother Warned You About" has restricted her blog to invitation only.

Well, I want an invitation.

If you know ole Jessica, please share this information.

Or if you are Jessica-- I wanna read your blog!!!

Christmas 2008

I spent Christmas at Karen's parent's house with Sadie and Chuck the dog. As you know we hate Chuck the dog for obvious reasons.

He drools.

He eats my food.

He jumps around.

He is a pleaser, which is completely ridiculous.

I tried to kill Chuck the dog and Karen stopped me. She pointed out that Chuck outweighs me by five pounds or so. I pointed out that Chuck the dog's eyes are on the side of his head and can't run in a straight line. He also has the attention span of a gnat.

Karen told me to knock it off because, as she said, it is Christmas and Jesus wouldn't approve of a homicide on His birthday.

Some people are just so hard to please.

Guest Room

We now have a guest room. Karen bought a mattress yesterday, it was delivered last night, and she set up the room this afternoon.

So now my blog reading friends, next time you are in Houston you may stay with us. Just don't bother me.

2008-- The Year of the Ass Hat

I first heard the term "ass hat" from my good friend Matt Shifely. Thus, we're giving him credit for it. Anyway, when thinking back on 2008 I couldn't think of anything to say other than, "Man, what dumb asses". So that's our theme for the year end review.

I'm holding out to write it though. Who knows what other ass hats could resurface???

The Soulless Eyes of Reality Television

Karen and I decided to have a nice relaxing Sunday. We're both extremely busy with our respective careers: Karen educating the future of America and me organizing a plan for world domination (and of course napping).

Anyway

Let me tell you what we did:

Six a.m.: Karen wakes up. She decides to not physically get out of bed.

Seven a.m.: The alarm on Karen's cell phone goes off, playing the intro to "Enter Sandman" (it's loud and obnoxious-- don't judge). Unfortunately, Karen did not put the phone on the charger by her nightstand. It was on the bar in the kitchen.

7:01 a.m.: Karen turns off alarm on cell phone. Karen gets back into bed because it is cold. She brings with her the latest edition of Vanity Fair to read under the covers.

7:15 a.m.: Karen stumbles into the bathroom. Before she can shut the door, Sadie bolts out from underneath the bed and I scurry behind her and dive into the bathtub, hoping Karen will give us a drink from the faucet.

7:16 a.m.: Karen mumbles something about "privacy" and "entitlement", but turns on the water in the tub anyway.

7:18 a.m.: Karen gets back into bed with her magazine. I join her a few minutes later.

8:30 a.m.: Karen decides she wants coffee. However, it is cold outside of her cocoon in bed.

8:45 a.m.: Karen still has a hankering for coffee. Interestingly enough, Karen does not drink coffee, at least not "real" coffee that tastes, well, like coffee. It must be flavored. Anyway, Karen doesn't even keep coffee at home, which means getting coffee requires a run to Starbucks, to buy a cup of coffee equal to the price of a small coffee plantation in Venezuela.

9:45 a.m.: Karen drives to the local Starbucks and buys the middle size carmel machiato (sp???). She uses one of the four Starbucks gift cards she got for Christmas presents from kids at school.

10:45 a.m: Karen returns home with her coffee. She plops down on the couch, again with the Vanity Fair, for the duration. I join her, at least for a nap.

Eleven a.m.: Karen turns the television on to discover amazing reality television on Bravo! in the form of The Rachel Zoe Project. Have any of you seen this? Lemme give you the lowdown:

Rachel Zoe is a 37- year- old celebrity stylist. She talks like an aging valley girl (which, quite frankly, if valley girls hailed from New Jersey she actually would be an aging valley girl), I'm guessing she's no stranger to Botox, and wears sunglasses perpetually. My assumption regarding the shades is that she must be afflicted by some serious eye disorder which will lead to sudden blindness.

It couldn't possibly be that her eyes are a dead giveaway to the lack of a soul.

Anyway

Ole Rachel has two assistants: a girl named Taylor who is so strung out that I'm a little amazed someone hasn't wailed on her yet and this dude name Brad who cries.

I'm totally not joking.

Brad is a crier.

Basically, from the two episodes of this show we watched, the whole premise is Taylor freaks out because of something she wants ole Brad to do and didn't tell him and Brad gets whiny and upset and tells Rachel. Rachel, who is completely monotoned and I'm thinking might not have a pulse, starts rambling and, quite frankly, does not deal with the problem at hand, which is perhaps finding a pharmacist to medicate ole Taylor.

Noon: Karen is hungry. Karen makes herself a sandwich:

This is Karen's hanging out at home sandwich recipe:

One half piece of naan bread

Four strips of Turkey bacon

Several pieces of avocado

Preheat the oven to broil. Cook bread to desired level of toastiness. Cook turkey bacon on stove to desired crispness. Cut one slice of said bacon into pieces and put on small plate from Tiffany's for cat. Cut up desired amount of avocado. Place bacon, avocado on bread. Fold over. And now you've got your super awesome sandwich.

12:30 a.m.: Karen eats her lunch, continues to read her Vanity Fair, and watch crap on Bravo!.

One p.m.: A new show begins which we watch for the duration of the afternoon: The Real Housewives of Orange County. Now we've known about this piece of crap for a couple of years and, to be honest, one of Karen's dirty little secrets is that she does on occasion watch it. However, due to our busy fall, we were not aware that a new season had begun.

This show is like a bad traffic accident one cannot stop watching. I've never seen such horrible people in my life. It's just great.

For those of you who aren't aware of The Real Housewives of Orange County let me give you the lowdown: it's a reality show about the lives of these women, whose name I may or may not spell correctly:

Geena: Geena is a real estate agent and must do pretty well because her new bedding cost roughly $8,000. Anyway, she was a Playmate in the eighties and her husband, a former baseball player, is a complete asshole. They are separated but Geena is a doormat and has let him move back in until he finds himself a new place.


Whatever


Lauri: Lauri has been married three times. (FYI: most of these women are working on husband number two or three.) She just married a very rich dude who has four kids. Lauri is beautiful and looks like she's had some significant "engineering" as well.

Vicki: Ole Vicki is a piece of work. She is a workaholic. She is crazy as a loon. Her kids are very passive aggressive, I'm guessing because their mother is, well, nuts. She's loud, bossy, and opinionated, which I guess makes her idea for reality television.

Tamra: Tamra is one of those women you know was easy in high school. You just know. Anyway, she's entertaining because she's just so trampy.

Gretchen: Gretchen is thirty. Her fiance is 53 and looks about 103. This would be really comical except he has leukemia.

Cancer just sucks all the fun out of that relationship.

She talks frequently about her "real" boobs. The other women act like she's a freak because she has "real" boobs, as opposed to, well, whatever is floating around in their Diane VonFurstenburg (sp???) wrap dresses.

I might be missing someone and I'm not inclined to continue thinking about it, so watch the show. It's super awesome in a truly evil way.

2:30 p.m.: Karen feels guilty about spending the afternoon watching crap on T.V. So she does some laundry while continuing to watch crap on T.V.

Four p.m.: Housewives marathon ends. Karen begins reading her book.

Six p.m.: We begin watching Dan in Real Life. This was a pretty good movie. Sadie even joined us to watch it.

Eight p.m.:We are now watching The Three Amigos. All is good with the world.

So that was our day at home.

Isn't it wonderful? Tomorrow or Wednesday (whatever Karen decides she so inclined to do) we are going to Babs and Johnny's house. I'm excited about this because I haven't been there since the move. I'll be Babs probably has our bed all ready for us, with kitty treats on the pillow and everything.

The only problem is Chuck. Probably he'll be there. Karen told me I had to be nice to Chuck, it being Christmas and all. She said the same thing about fourth of July.

Whatever

Good Hair ROCKS (kinda)

My open letter to Governor Rick Perry of the great state of Texas:

Dear Governor Perry:

Over the last couple of years, you have been the topic of conversation within my blog. We call you good hair because you basically look like a local news anchor who doesn't smile. We ran the clip of you saying "adios mofo" to the Texas congressman on local television (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=obLGOITasek&feature=related) because it was funny. Those are just the things I can think of without going to much effort. I'm sure we've done other things, such as, well, not voting for you, but that's another story.

Of course, I can't vote, as you people have seen it fit to not allow cats to vote in this "great" country. I'm blaming the Republican party for this form of discrimination, by the way. I'm sure now that Obama, the messiah and savior of democracy in the modern world, will see it fit to allow me to vote, and then we'll see how all of this evolves, bucko!!!

But I digress. . .

Last week while the world sat in fascination of what a complete DUMBASS this Blagojevich character must be, I had an epiphany: we have been really nasty to ole good hair and for what? No one is wire tapping the governor's mansion and recording you trying to sell a senate seat. You don't use the "n" word (or at least to my knowledge-- although that tape with you and the state trooper was kinda nasty), and you aren't attempting to extort newspapers and fire the editors who don't like you. Heck, even your approval rating is higher than four percent.

So anyway, I'd like to thank you for swimming in mediocrity as of now and not getting into any ridiculous trouble.

Adios Mofo,

P (the cat)

And now we have an open letter to Senator Kay Bailey Hutchinson, Senior Senator from the great state of Texas

Dear Senator Hutchinson:

You are needed in congress. Do not run for governor.

This does not have anything to do with love for Good Hair. Just stay in DC. You rock.

P (the cat)

Can We Talk About the Weather?

Get this: Wednesday it was 28 degrees outside. Snow flurries were all about.

I could not make this up.

Karen's parents' front yard was covered with snow, or so we hear. We got nuthin'.

Considering that Tuesday afternoon it was seventy degrees outside, the "snow" did not stay "snow", if you know what I mean. But this is the gulf coast, and we have to take what we can get.

Canadians, please do not mock our enjoyment of this "snow". We know this is absurd and we simply do not care. The last time we got snow was in like 2004. Last winter Karen didn't even bring out her winter coat. I'm pretty sure shorts could have been worn to Christmas dinner.

An Ethical Dilemma

Karen and I watched Saturday Night Live last night and laughed until we cried at the Governor Paterson skit.

Is it wrong to make fun of a blind dude?

What if the blind dude is governor who was appointed after the elected governor was busted for trying to pay a hooker with money from his checking account?

What if the blind dude had to make a statement days after taking office regarding his history with cocaine and ladies other than his wife, so no one would bring it up to the media later on?

Oh, and by the way: SNL you owe Karen some royalties-- she made the comment about the Governor Paterson thing being like a bad Richard Pryor movie last year.

Go 'Stros

Other Topics Regarding Vampire Sex

No, I am not writing today about vampire sex. I don't think vampires "do it". I could be wrong about this, but I think it falls into the same category as food consumption. Vampires, to my limited knowledge anyway, don't eat either.

I'm just looking for more hits. It's kinda like what I did with ole Rush Limbaugh a while back.

And Speaking of Ole Rushbo

Did you know that he was one of Barbara Walter's "Ten Most Fascinating People"? I don't know how "fascinating" he is, but allegedly he's got like a kajillion listeners daily.

We here at I don't pretend to be an ordinary cat think that ole Rush owes us some thanks. If it weren't for the blog probably he'd have fewer listeners. And most likely Barbara Walters wouldn't even know his name. After all, I'm still getting lots of hits regarding Rush Limbaugh's Cat.

You know he reads the blog, right? When I mention his name I magically get hits out of Palm Beach, Florida, where he lives.

I would like it if Mr. Limbaugh would comment.

I won't bite, Mr. Limbaugh, I PROMISE. . .

Anyway, I got a lot to talk about so hold on. . .

The Tree

In my last post I failed to mention whether or not Karen bought the tree. The answer to this question is, yes, Karen did indeed purchase the Christmas tree.

I don't like it as much as our old one or the tree at Karen's parents' house. First of all, Karen bought one of those trees in a pot that stand quite tall and narrow. It is impossible for me to hide underneath and jump out at people, biting them on the ankles, the one thing I enjoy most about the Christmas season.

Second, Karen told me originally that she would put the tree in the entry hall. I was totally excited about this, as it meant I could attack people as they entered the house. But no, Karen decided to put the tree in the corner of the living room.

"It's a good place for a Christmas tree, Penelope," she told me. "And it's rude, not to mention embarrassing, to attack the guests anyway."

Whatever, by now they should know it's coming.

PLAXICO: The Most Awesome News Story Since Victoria Osteen had a Histrionic Fit on the Airplane

Are you people following this?

Actually there isn't anything to really follow. It's just funny.

CNN ran a commentary this morning regarding ole Plaxico, and the journalist didn't quite comprehend why, during this time of chaos, disaster and economic turmoil, the media would obsess over this news story.

Well, I can tell you why: it is FUNNY.

The dude goes into a nightclub, packing heat, puts the gun in the waistband of his sweatpants, and it goes off, shooting him in the thigh.

First of all, who wears sweatpants to a nightclub? That's just tacky.

Second of all, what DUMBASS puts a gun in an elastic waistband anyway?

Third, NO ONE noticed the events as they unfolded. The dude was able to get to the ER, lie about what happened, and give them a fake name before all hell broke loose.

In my expert opinion, Plaxico won at a game of Russian roulette with Darwin, who was aiming for something other than his thigh and missed. It's called survival of the fittest, my friends, and Plaxico clearly doesn't need to reproduce.

Vampires and Such

I just finished Twilight not that long ago.

I got bored at the end.

I'm not getting some stuff. This might be because I'm a cat and am far superior to you human being types. But regardless, if you have the answers, please enlighten me.

Question One:

Why would anyone hang out with a vampire? Even an allegedly "good" vampire. They kill humans somewhat arbitrarily. It isn't personal. I'm sure there are very nice vampires who are pleasant and such. But still they are quite homicidal by nature.

Question Two:

Edward is freakin' moody. I get that teenager girls dig that, but why? I asked Karen this and she didn't have much of an answer, other than "an appreciation for the self loathing". Whatever.

Question Three:

OK, are any of you people vampire book experts? Of the few I've read it seems that the vampires are all haunted by something from their mortal past. I've also noticed they are frequently either flaming gay or leaning that way. Regardless, all literary vampires are beautiful (what is the other perk of vampireness, I guess.) What is my question? I don't remember. Am I right about this???

Facebook is Putting a Cramp in My Style

Freaking Karen is now on Facebook. She is also addicted to Facebook, thus using the computer far too often so I can't do what I want to do.

"Am I not gone from 6:30 in the morning until four or five every evening?" she yelled at me waving her hands all about. "Get off your ass and stop sleeping sixteen hours and blog during the day."

Whatever. That's not when I want to blog. I want to blog, well, when I want to blog. I think Karen should appriciate this.

My biggest concern is that in two weeks Karen will be gone for Christmas vacation. So then I guess I'm really screwed.

Karen should just get me my own computer. She laughed at the suggestion, by the way.

Whatever

Go 'Stros