I don't pretend to be an ordinary cat.

OK, Seriously, This Time I'm for Real

2009-11-27T17:12:00.006-06:00

Yeah, remember last May when I told you I was back???

And then I really didn't come back.

This time I'm for real, believe it or not.

Here's the deal:

The seven-year-old laptop, in which the brilliant mastermind "I Don't Pretend to be an Ordinary Cat" was created, basically died last summer. It was very tragic. First, the keyboard became unusable. So Karen found an old desktop keyboard in the garage and connected it via USB port. Then it started running really really SLOW. So Karen got a bunch of pen drives and saved all the kajillion documents and pictures and so forth, hoping this would alleviate some of the problem.

It didn't.

And then one day in August the computer just died. It happened around the first week or two after Karen returned to work like a regular human, so Sadie and I could have some peace and quiet around here. Anyway, in her infinite wisdom, Karen decided not to run right out and immediately purchase a new computer.

"Technology doesn't need to be such a driving force in our lives," Karen told me, as she typed her kajillionth Facebook status update on the Blackberry. "I'm not sure I even want to replace it. I have a computer at work for basic needs. Plus, we should spend our time at home as a family, not bugged eyed from the artificial light of a computer screen."

Oh please. Karen has become so granola in 2009. She's into all this "natural" crap and exercise and whatnot. She reads books about Chinese medicine, for the love of all that is holy. She gets up three days a week at 4:30 in the morning and does Pilates or Yoga. It's getting on my freakin' nerves. She even, get this, suggested that Sadie and I start going on walks with her.

First of all, I refuse to be paraded via leash throughout the neighborhood for a myriad of reasons, the main one being that I am a cat and such behavior is soooo canine.

Period

Furthermore, if Karen was truly interested in my cardiovascular health, she wouldn't have uprooted me TWICE in 2008, only to settle in a one story home in an incredibly boring neighborhood. The only interesting thing that happens out here is the occasional rabbit getting into the backyard. We have no drunken rednecks or crazy neighbors or goats for my general entertainment through the day.

I mentioned this to Karen and suggested she talk to the woman who bought the old house and perhaps suggest a trade to her. Karen laughed at me.

So, Sadie and I do our best to stay in good health, chasing each other around the house, but it isn't the same without the stairs.

But I digress. . . back to my technology issue.

I told Karen that if she didn't replace the laptop soon, I would either leave, or pee in her bed, whichever would be easiest at the moment. So I sent her ridiculous self, along with the evil Jeff, the evil Jeff's not so evil wife Sylvia, Carlos, the evil Jeff's nephew, Myra, the evil Jeff's sister-in-law, and George, Myra's husband, out into the vast tundra of Texas late fall to stand in line at either Best Buy or Wal Mart.

"You people need to split up and divide and conquer," I told Karen and Sylvia at the Thursday strategy session, before my mid afternoon nap. "No one comes home unless I get a new laptop."

They must have taken me very seriously, as Karen left her parent's house in the early hours of morning and came home around eight with a box of modern technology.

However, I needed to set some ground rules with Karen in regards to allocating time for computer usage. We've agreed that Karen should not spend more than ten or fifteen minutes in the evening on Facebook crap. I feel that it is my duty as a far superior being to post at least one article per week as means of guidance, as one thing I've discovered in my hiatus is that you people are clearly ridiculous.

Oh yes, you are. All of you.

I watch CNN, people. And nothing has gotten better in regards to, well, anything. I simply cannot good conscience allow you people to continue into this downward spiral of ridiculousness.

Thus, I am back. Stay tuned, dedicated readers of discriminating taste. Many good things come to those who wait. . .

-- P (the fabulous and all knowing cat)

The Cat is Back

2009-05-17T12:48:00.002-05:00

Dear Readers of Discriminating Taste,

I've been gone quite a while, I know. It's a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions. Quite frankly it was a hard winter. Karen bought us a smaller food dish and occasionally I have to eat the morsels which touch the bowl.

I hate that.

Furthermore, Karen refuses to leave the water running in the bathtub, so I'm stuck with water from our dish. The new house has no stairs or rednecks, so not only do I not have cardio of my preference, but I'm bored during the day without my theater of the drunken yokels. Plus no neighborhood cats hang out in our backyard.

The loneliness is palpable, my friends.

Sadie, who spends her days sleeping on the bed, is no fun. She's all concerned about "rules" and "laws" and such. Oh please; its' not like she can read to know such things.

And then there's Karen.

Karen has, like many Americans, developed an addiction to Facebook. Normally I really have no feelings regarding Karen's interests, but this one has caused a hindrance in my life; it means I can't use the computer in the evenings. To remedy this slight, I tried to distract Karen with my personal needs. This didn't work. So of course I then resorted to violence. Similar to a meth addict, Karen just screams and waves her hands around. I considered upping the anty a bit, but then Karen would end up at home all day on disability and we can't have that, can we?

I came up with a reasonable solution to this problem: Karen should buy me a computer. When I proposed the idea, she laughed at me.

"You're kidding, right?" she said, as she typed her fifth status update of the evening. "Buy your own damn computer, or blog during the day."

This is how genius is treated at my house.

Karen and I have come up with a reasonable arrangement with our computer usage and such. So I will soon be blogging once again regularly. I'm hoping my friends will forgive me for my disappearance. If they don't, oh well; I'm a cat. I don't have high regard for the "feelings" of humankind.

Anyway . . .

Since my last blog, the world has truly turned to crap. I will soon be telling you people how to get "things" back on track.

Sincerely,

Penelope (the cat)

George Bush's Gut

2009-01-20T18:21:00.000-06:00

Today is inauguration day.

I watched the festivities , as opposed to my normal afternoon routine of napping and grooming. Surprisingly, I found myself moved. And it wasn't ole Barry, my friends. It was what he brought out in audience. It was the seventy year old woman, and those like her, who saw and experienced segregation, who took a chartered bus from Atlanta to sit in the mall, freezing to death and witnessing history.

Most blogs will give you a nice uplifting soliloquy regarding the immanence of change and unless you are wealthy white dude, your future is quite bright.

The reality is nothing really changes. I'm not saying things won't get better, because, well, they usually do. Economies are cyclical and life turns around for whatever reason. Just remember that ole Barry doesn't have a magic wand and tomorrow the house down the street still might not have a "sold" sign on it.

It is what it is, my friends.

Anyway, enough of that. We hear at I Don't Pretend to be an Ordinary Cat are not particularly anti Barack Obama. We just aren't Kool-Aid drinkers, so to speak, for any politician. Think about it: if I didn't question authority, what would you people be reading? Nothing particularly interesting, my friends, that's for sure.

I've got a lot of concerns about this new administration: Obama is eloquent and good looking. What will I write about? Got me. My only complaint about ole Barry is he hasn't given me anything to complain about.

Yet, that is . . .

Anywho, I hope everyone is having a lovely January 20th. I'd like to end this will the best of George Bush the Sequel, just for the memories:

"This thaw -- took a while to thaw, it's going to take a while to unthaw."

"Anyone engaging in illegal financial transactions will be caught and persecuted."

"I'll be long gone before some smart person ever figures out what happened inside this Oval Office." (I think this might be sarcasm)

"I know the human being and fish can coexist peacefully."

"Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we."

"Rarely is the question asked: is our children learning?"

"Poor people aren't necessarily killers."

And, of course, my personal all time FAVORITE:

"Too many good docs are getting out of the business. Too many OB/ GYNs aren't able to practice their love with women all across this country."

And now a quote regarding ole George from the late Molly Ivins, who we would nominate for sainthood, that is, if the Vatican took sainthood nominations for non Catholics felines:

"Let me say for the umpteenth time, George W. is not a stupid man. The IQ of his gut, however, is open to debate. In Texas, his gut led him to believe the death penalty has a deterrent effect, even though he acknowledged there was no evidence to support his gut's feeling. When his gut, or something, causes him to announce that he does not believe in global warming -- as though it were a theological proposition -- we once again find his gut ruling that evidence is irrelevant. In my opinion, Bush's gut should not be entrusted with making peace in the Middle East." -- Molly Ivins

It's tragic we aren't going to get Ivins' perspective on Obama. Say what you will, but I would have a little more respect for our president if the queen all mighty of political writing was alive to take a swing at him. (Look at her writing about Bill Clinton if you don't believe me.) And that is why I miss ole Molly.

Go 'Stros

The Meaning of Life

2009-01-14T20:07:00.004-06:00

Karen had an epiphany yesterday and I thought it was reasonable enough to share with you:

Basically life can be summed up by the philosophical words of Mel Brooks.

"As long as the world is turning and spinning, we're gonna be dizzy and we're gonna make mistakes."

"Bad taste is simply saying the truth before it should be said."

"Everything we do in life is based on fear, especially love."

"Humor is just another defense against the universe."

"I don't believe in this business of being behind, better to be in front."

"If presidents can't do it to their wives, they do it to their country."

"If Shaw and Einstein couldn't beat death, what chance have I got? Practically none."

"Life literally abounds in comedy if you just look around you."

"Look, I don't want to wax philosophic, but I will say that if you're alive you've got to flap your arms and legs, you've got to jump around a lot, for life is the very opposite of death, and therefore you must at very least think noisy and colorfully, or you're not alive."

"Rhetoric does not get you anywhere, because Hitler and Mussolini are just as good at rhetoric. But if you can bring these people down with comedy, they stand no chance."

"Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die."

"You're always a little disappointing in person because you can't be the edited essence of yourself."

Have a lovely day, fair readers of discriminating taste.

Go 'Stros

What a Bunch of Boobs

2009-01-11T16:47:00.007-06:00

http://www.momversation.com/blog/hot-topics-facebook-nursing-protest

So tell me, fair readers: what are your thoughts on the nursing mom picture? First of all, I haven't seen the picture, other than a quick flash (no pun intended) on the evening news and can't find it anymore on the Internet.

Personally, I don't give a rat's ass. You humans are so stupid about nudity, it just amazes me. I run around the house stark raving naked all day long and enjoy it thoroughly. So does Sadie. In fact, we only wear clothes when Karen puts them on us for random reasons, which make no sense to us anyway. On the other hand, Karen is clothed ALL THE TIME. In fact, she is so freaky about nudity that she puts a towel over the shower door so she can't see her own naked derriere in the bathroom mirror as she bathes.

The other day, I heard her talking in horror about a naked woman in the locker room at the gym.

"She was naked," Karen said. "Just standing there naked."

I asked Karen about this. She said that most people are not all out naked in the lady's locker room. Most people change in the bathroom stalls.

Whatever, that is totally beside the point. What I want to share with you is a story that I've been carrying for almost two years because I haven't had the opportunity to tell it:

Karen was at SuperTarget with her mom. (For the local folks, yes, the Target close to Karen's mom's house-- the coolest stuff ALWAYS happens over there, by the way.) She saw a woman with a blanket draped over her, with something obviously under it. Karen assumed that she was nursing (while shopping). The woman was completely covered. Karen saw her twice as she shopped and both times the ta-tas were under wraps (pun intended).

Karen separated from her mom and was looking at DVD players. As she looked she heard a woman talking loudly at the end of the aisle. Karen naturally moved in that directions because she was comparing the prices of DVD players and that's just the direction she was going. As moved closer to the woman, she could hear her ranting about her 12-year-old son being "exposed" to such a thing in public. She was just horrified. The man she was speaking to (I'm assuming was the store manager) kept saying that since she was completely covered he really couldn't do much. The woman kept ranting and raving and freaking out and finally walked towards Karen, who was trying very hard to maintain without laughing hysterically.

"You just had to move closer to see the drama didn't you?" the woman shouted at Karen, with her twelve-year-old in tow. (You gotta feel sorry for that poor kid.)

"Lady, it's a boob," she replied, as the woman stormed off. "Get over it."

A couple of years ago, a bunch of nursing mothers gathered at Houston's Galleria and had a "nurse in", I guess you would call it, all over the mall, when a nursing mother was asked to move to an area for nursing mothers.

My question is this, human readers: if the boobs are covered who cares? And if they aren't, who cares? Isn't that the purpose of the ta-tas to begin with? The reality is your uber repressed Puritanical society is so tightly wound that you guys are sexualizing things that just frankly aren't sexual.

Again, if it bugs you then don't look. As far as the kiddoes, well, wouldn't you rather them see breasts used for their God-given purpose then, well, tanned and stuffed with silicon on the pages of Playboy? Because trust me, dear readers, a human twelve-year-old male has totally seen boobs-- probably not in the way his mother would prefer.

Anyway, that is my rant for today. I'd love to hear your opinions on this.

In Memorium

2009-01-05T19:32:00.007-06:00

My mentor and kindred spirit has passed.

India, the White House highly under publicized first cat, died yesterday. She was eighteen. She was survived by her staff, President George Bush and First Lady Laura Bush. They were not particularly respectful of her, though. "W" used to call her "Willie" which isn't even her name. I think the woman was probably OK, but she still didn't advocate more coverage for India on the White House web pages.

Don't even get me started on that again.

I am assuming that arrangements for a state funeral are being made as we speak. I asked Karen if anyone called in regards to my seating in the National Cathedral, assuming that I would be seated perhaps three rows behind the family. She told me that probably the family was still in mourning and it might take a little while before arrangements were made.

"How do you plan to get to Washington?" Karen asked me. "You know how cats fly on the airlines, right?"

I would assume in first class.

Anyway, we here at I Don't Pretend to be an Ordinary Cat would like to extend our condolences to the Bush family. We will be expecting word soon on where we should meet Air Force One to take us to Washington for the funeral, so President Bush, inform us as soon as you can.

A Village of 100

2009-01-02T21:31:00.004-06:00

Karen from her boss. She thought it would be nice for me to share it instead of discussing Charles Barkley's DUI. :

Go 'Stros

A Village of 100

If the world’s population was reduced to just 100 people, what would it look like?
Out of 100 people…

57 would be Asian

21 would be European

14 would be from the Western Hemisphere

8 would be African

52 would be female

48 would be male

70 would be non-white

30 would be while

70 would be non-Christian

30 would be Christian

89 would be heterosexual

11 would be homosexual

50% of the wealth would be in the hands of 6 people

6 of those people would live in the United States

80 people would live in substandard housing

70 would be unable to read

50 would suffer from malnutrition

1 would be near death

1 would be near birth

1 would have a college education

4 would own a computer

Happy Holidays

2008-12-27T17:45:00.008-06:00

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

2008-12-21T13:52:00.011-06:00

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)

2008-12-10T17:37:00.012-06:00

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

Recession My Ass and Other Points of Interest

2008-11-27T21:15:00.010-06:00

FYI: I am blogging to you via a WIRELESS connection.

I am so excited.

Totally Random Issue

Today (November 30th) is the last day of hurricane season. So we are now safe again (until July, that is).

Christmas Trees, Plasmas, and the National Economy

Karen decided to buy a new Christmas tree since she accidentally left the old one in the attic at our former residence.

When I say "accidentally", I use the term loosely by the way. Karen wanted a new tree.

Anyway, she found one she liked at Michael's last week. It was two hundred bucks. Being that Karen needed to be able to make her first house payment, she didn't purchase the two hundred dollar tree, despite really wanting it and knowing that was the going rate for the tree she wanted.

So Karen held off.

Thanksgiving morning Karen discovered that Michael's had all of their trees fifty percent off. This, with a twenty percent off coupon made the tree a reasonable price. So at 5:30 Karen was off to Michael's, as the store opened Thanksgiving evening at six. She didn't think it would be a big deal: she'd arrive at Michael's at six bebop in and buy her tree.

Pretty simple, right?

Not so much.

There was a LINE outside of Michael's.

Seriously

A line

So, of course, Karen got in it.

Michael's was not the only store with a line, by the way. A bunch of people were lined up outside of Circuit City and Best Buy. They had tents and were drinking beer, kind of like an urban camp out.

Is this tradition? The mall parking statistics were like every year in the Houston area (Baybrook/ Galleria/ Woodlands at 106 percent in the morning, dropping to 85 percent capacity after lunch).

But is this tradition or are people still spending money?

I guess we won't know until next week . . .

Another Totally Random Issue
We are sitting around watching the movie Foul Play. We love this movie. If you've never seen it, rent it or stay up one night when it plays at three in the morning.

Secretary of State Hillbilly

Don't get me wrong, I really don't have a problem with Hillary as Secretary of State.

I just love calling her Hillbilly.

Anyway, what I'm loving is that ole Bill has agreed to release his donor list within his nonprofit.

So we'll know if Crystal from Scores is donating towards tsunami relief.

And Now a Final Random Moment

I posted on my sidebar one of my FAVORITE David Sedaris essays (read by him) "Six to Eight Black Men". It is about Christmas traditions. Click on it and be prepared to laugh really super dooper hard.

I posted this last year. I just thought we should see it again.

Go 'Stros

If James Bond Brought Me Flowers . . .

2008-11-26T18:16:00.008-06:00

This is a concern of national importance. Forget the bailout (or lack thereof) of General Motors, forget the idea of Secretary of State Hillbilly, forget all time black Friday consumer lows, whatever. This is what you need to be concerned about:

Jeopardy!

Please explain, Penelope.

Our local television station has moved Jeopardy! to 11:37 pm.

This is a problem for two reasons:

Jeopardy! is awesome. Everyone knows this. Furthermore, we like to watch Jeopardy! in the afternoon when Karen is not at work. It's how we bond. We can't do this at 11:37 at night. Karen is, well, ASLEEP. Sadie and I are far too busy hunting. It isn't reasonable.

Furthermore, by moving Jeopardy! to 11:37, it bumps Frasier out of the late night roundup. Granted, we aren't awake at 11:37 very often, but we love Frasier. And Jeopardy! is far too difficult in the middle of the night.

Is this local programming or national? If it's local we might have to move. . .

Things that I, Penelope the Cat, am Thankful

I got this idea from Reid over at Reid All About It. Anyway, here are the things in which I am thankful:

1. Naps I love naps. I take one in the morning, one after lunch, and then another before dinner. It's awesome. And Karen just loves it that I say up all night chasing Sadie.

2. Our New House Karen cleans our box almost daily. This is awesome. She had new house syndrome so bad that most of our needs our met most of the time. The bed gets made every morning and everything. The only drawback is that since everything is clean nothing interesting gets left on the kitchen counters.

3. Tis the Season of James Bond I love that TBS and Spike run Bond movies constantly between Thanksgiving and Christmas. We here at I Don't Pretend to be an Ordinary Cat love the misogynistic Bond. He is the best.

4. 30 Rock We love 30 Rock. Last week it was a riot (with Steve Martin playing a pretend agoraphobic). Watch it.

5. Karen and the Cat Diet Karen thought that if she bought us smaller bowls we would eat less, thus I would lose the five pounds I gained while living with her parents (Karen's dad shares lunch meat with me and gives me milk, much to Karen's dismay). This is not happening. Karen is just filling the bowl more often (I wonder if she's figured this out).

6. The Bathtub Sadie and I love the bathtub in the master bathroom. We sometimes fight over who get to sit on the ledge next to the window.

7. Karen's Parents We really dig ole Babs and Johnny. They totally rock. Babs ALWAYS feeds us immediately when she notices some of the food is touching the bowl. (Karen, well, does not.) Johnny has such an aversion to wasting food that when I jump up on the counter and sample the lunch meat he ALWAYS gives me the part I sampled. It was heaven living with them. When I told Karen of these behaviors her response was "How nice for you".

8. Soft Tacos

9. My Blog Friends I love you, blog friends. Sometimes I tell Karen about you guys and refer to you as "my friends". She says, "You have no friends, Penelope. You don't leave the house, not to mention that you are mean and everyone knows it." That hurt my feelings so I sat on her face at two in the morning.

10. Flowers I like flowers. I like to jump on the table, put my front paws on the vase and sniff them. Usually at this point the vase falls over, which makes it really easy for me to lap up some water off the table before it gets on the carpet. Then I usually rub against the flowers, making a beautiful petal arrangement all over the house.

Karen no longer buys fresh flowers. She's doing this to spite me I think.

Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving. Next week we'll be on the road to Christmas and I have much in store for you then.

Go 'Stros

Vampires and the Shelf Life of Biscotti

2008-11-16T20:11:00.014-06:00

Have you missed me???

Guys, I've been busy grooming and napping and coming up with a plan for world domination.

Anyway, let's get started.

My Town Mondays

I've got pictures and a story idea and everything. It just isn't happening. Anyway, perhaps next week it'll happen (sorry Travis).

The Cookie Jar

At some point in her life Karen procured a Santa Claus cookie jar. This jar has been, well, sitting in a cabinet for who knows how long. Anyway, Karen was reorganizing the pantry today and the container wouldn't fit the way she wanted, so she took the lid off. Inside the cookie jar were individually wrapped biscotti.

Lots of biscotti.

Tons of biscotti.

Anyway, Karen cannot remember when she got the cookie jar. Was it a Christmas present? If so when? Last Christmas? The Christmas before? Regardless, the biscotti is now in the trash.

Such a shame.

Weird Random Moments

Last Tuesday we experienced a really nasty rain storm. The windows shook and the light fixture in the entry hall was shaking loudly. Karen did not sleep that night. She called the builder of our house the next day and although he could not come up with a great explanation for the occurrence, he asked a bunch of questions regarding the fixture itself. Anyway, Karen was describing the attachment of the fixture to the ceiling and suddenly was at a loss for words.

The problem, as it seems, was she really wanted to use the word "shaft" in this description, but couldn't do it. So in her brain she was frantically looking for a word, but nothing was OK:

Pole?

Rod?

It was horrible, according to Karen. It was like Freud was wreaking havoc with her head. Not a word she could muster didn't have a phallic connotation.

She was really embarrassed.

Is this normal human female ridiculousness that I just simply don't understand?

Whatever

The Local News
Another awesome example of our tax money at work:
http://abclocal.go.com/ktrk/story?section=news/local&id=6514867&rss=rss-ktrk-article-6514867

Once again, I could not make this up.

I don't even know what to say other than what the crap?

Book Reviews by Penelope the Cat

First book: "American Wife" by Curtis Sittenfield.

We thoroughly enjoyed Sittenfield's first book "Prep" so much that we picked up this, her third novel. It is a fictionalized account of the life of Laura Bush. How fictionalized? I don't know.

Who cares?

It's worth a read.

Here is a link to Sittenfield's essay "Why I Love Laura Bush":

http://dir.salon.com/story/mwt/feature/2004/01/29/laura

Second Book: "Twilight" by Stephanie Meyer

OK, I know, I know. I'm not quite finished yet. I'm about two- thirds done.

I will admit it: I'm intrigued.

But again, it's adolescent fiction, with a simplistic story line. Regardless, it's just complicated enough for me to keep reading.

Anyone who has read it, drop me a line, though, as I have some questions . . .

Hissing Black Cats and Other Topics

2008-10-30T20:08:00.015-05:00

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

2008-10-29T19:53:00.002-05:00

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

2008-10-18T23:28:00.002-05:00

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

2008-10-18T22:04:00.009-05:00

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

2008-10-05T21:39:00.008-05:00

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.

The Limbaugh Kidnapping

2008-09-23T20:40:00.008-05:00

My Favorite News Story that I Missed Due to Ike sans Tina:

O.J. Simpson

I wrote about this last year:
http://penelopeandsadie.blogspot.com/2007/10/on-justice.html

Personally, I think it's wonderful-- O.J. Simpson might spend the rest of his life in jail over stolen football jerseys. What else can I say-- karma's a real bugger.

Open Letter to Rush Limbaugh

Dear Mr. Limbaugh:

Friday you mentioned that the three husbands of the women who called into your show today should be giving thanks because you listened to them and soothed their concerns regarding America turning to crap (my words not yours or theirs), thus said husbands will have a calm and tranquil evening upon returning home from the office.

Clearly, you have a false understanding of women. Yes, you did listen to them. Nonetheless, they are still pissed. I can guarantee these women probably are still whining about their fears regarding ole Barry, as they fix martinis for their husbands upon their arrivals home from work.

I've lived with a female human for seven years. I can listen to her rant and rave until I want to barf. It doesn't end until she decides she's ready for it to end. Period. It's called free will, bucko. The chickas have it. You, self-important radio man, simply do not have that control, regardless of whatever condescending crap speech you decide to spew.

If you feel that I am mistaken, please contact me. I will send you Karen. Karen will be very angry, as, no offense, she does not like you. If you can talk her out of the tree and, well, survive. I will concede I am wrong about your powers over the ladies.

I'm not seeing this as all that feasible. In fact, I have no idea how I would even send you Karen. I guess you could kidnap her. If you decide to do this, remember to take her cell phone because she's looking for a story to sell the Enquirer. Otherwise, I think she wouldn't be too difficult to nab.

-- P

Scenes from Karen's Family and Her Influence (or lack thereof) Over Them

Karen tried to get her family to appreciate Bridget Jones' Diary.

It didn't work.

I think her mom kind of liked it. Kind of.

Her dad said:

"Is this what we have to watch? Because this is seriously boring."

"Why can't we watch a western?"

So much for that, I guess.

More on Karen

Karen wants me to start posting pictures of her house.

Like a lot of them

All of the time.

In fact every time we chat she mentions pictures and I should post them.

First of all, the house right now looks like crap. I've seen the pictures. Granted there are walls and stuff, but mainly it's still a mess of concrete and coke cans with a Jiffy John in the yard. Furthermore, I've told you guys that I have no intention of living in that place, so why should I post pictures of it.

However, since I just mentioned to Rush Limbaugh that it would be OK for him to attempt a kidnapping of Karen, I probably should throw her a bone.

Here's the plan: I will post one picture a week in the sidebar of Karen's house. Just one. Not one hundred. Just one. I'm not doing it now though. I'll do it soon.

Anyway, I'm tired. I'm off to bed.

Go 'Stros

Colin and Ike-- Although Unrelated

2008-09-21T15:43:00.007-05:00

Sadie and I are tired of Karen and her people hanging around the house during the day. They've got to go back to work. Period. It's driving me nuts, as I've got things to do and I can't do any of them as long as those people are roaming around bothering me.

Offense Taken

Tell me your thoughts on this:

A couple of Sundays ago, I was sitting on a chair at the kitchen table, just casually enjoying my morning when a certain six-year-old approached me and said, "Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha I'm going to church and you aren't."

Exactly how am I supposed to take this? This child, who was thankfully leaving shortly thereafter, is taunting me regarding church attendance? My feelings are very much hurt and I might not ever go to church again if this is the attitude they are taking.

"Penelope, do you really want to go to church?" Karen asked me when I mentioned this slight.

Actually, no, I'd rather spend the time napping at home during one of the few moments when it is completely empty, thank you much.

But that's besides the point.

My Gift to You

In Karen's sheer boredom (her school experienced some Ike damage, so she isn't returning to work until Wednesday) we've watched Pride and Prejudice in pieces since the power returned late Sunday/ early Monday. We've enjoyed it so much that Karen suggested we show weekly clips of the whopping six hour version from 1995.

I decided that was a little much. I thought it would be more enjoyable for my readers to show our favorite Colin Firth moments. So, via YouTube, we now have a new feature:

Colin Firth Moment of the Week.

"Why don't you have a George Clooney moment of the week as well?" Karen suggested.

I told her that would be going just a bit too far. But it's something to consider for the future.

Anyway, I went to YouTube to find some clips and whatnot and there are some really freaky Firth fans. I mean, granted, Karen announce rather excitedly during one of the opening scenes of Mama Mia that she "loved" Colin Firth, but it was pretty loud with all those other middle aged ladies singing and drooling and whatnot. But there are Firth collections put to music all over YouTube. That takes time and dedication, my friends.

I chose the air guitar scene for my first Firth Moment of the Week from What a Girl Wants. It's by far not my favorite Firth moment, but I'm saving those for later.

If you haven't seen What a Girl Wants, it's a nice, sweet family movie. Basically, Amanda Bynes goes to England to find her father, who is a British Lord (Colin Firth). It's good PG fun.

Other Things

Down the street from Karen's parents house is a Point of Delivery (POD) location, where dudes in camouflage Hummers (I'm totally not making this up-- I thought the Canadians invaded or something) distribute food, ice, water, etc. Anyway, Karen won't get in line and bring me one of those FEMA self heating meal things. I really wanted to write about how these things work. Heck, I was going to bring to you people FEMA Fridays or something of the sort, but noooooooo, Karen won't get in the line for a mere three or four hours to get me some demonstration models.

Whatever.

More Other Things

The 'Stros are experiencing post traumatic stress disorder I guess due to ole Ike. Why else would they be sucking so incredibly much as of late??? This is one of those moments in which I would think the 'Stros should really reconsider their game plan of not using gloves before the 4th of July. But what do I know . . .

Anywho, I've got to go. It's time for my late afternoon nap.

Go 'Stros

We Survived Immanent Death and Destruction

2008-09-16T10:09:00.005-05:00

I'm bored.

I'm bored of 24/7 continuous coverage of Ike. We know it wasn't good. We know there are only two open gas stations open in a twenty mile radius. We know that most grocery stores do not have anything sellable in the frozen food section. We know that basically no one is going to school this week.

But I would really like to watch The Office come Thursday.

However, I will say that we are blessed:

We have power.

We have food.

We have a roof.

We don't have a tree in our dining room.

We don't need to go to the POD (place where ice, food, and water are given out).

I have plenty of kitty treats.

The weather has been FABULOUS the last few days: high today of 81, low of 59, and virtually no humidity.

Canadians, this is really good. We've spent since May with low of 95 high of 103 with humidity hovering at 100 percent.

We have Internet and cable access. Actually, as soon as the power returned Sunday night we had Internet. Cable returned the next morning.

And I am happy because:

Sarah Palin is no longer cooperating with the whole "I tried to fire that scumbag of a soon-to-be ex brother-in-law" investigation, as it is "tainted". I totally love this story as on many an occasion I've wanted to do something like that, but didn't because, well, I didn't want to have to explain to Karen exactly why Sadie was no longer living in the house. It would just be too complicated.

This looks like a totally great drama. Everyone (except for me of course, as I'm completely evil) is so freakin' supportive of the whole knocked up teenage daughter thing that I'm totally ready for some nastiness. I don't care on what topic, either. Everyone right now is behaving and being supportive because we all just avoided "immanent death". It's getting old. I'm ready for some drama.

Anyway, I'm off to take my afternoon nap. The world needs to return to normal, as I'm not only tired of being nice and sympathetic, but I'm also getting irritated with all these people hanging out at the home front during the day.

Go 'Stros.

Ike: We've Gotta Get Back to Our Originally Scheduled Programs

2008-09-12T10:15:00.011-05:00

By the way, I got this from Rush Limbaugh:

On NATIONAL RADIO it was said that the good citizens of Galveston were facing "immanent death" if they chose not to leave their homes due to pimp daddy Ike and his bitch slapping of the gulf coast. (I am so using as many Ike Turner references as I can muster today.)

Let me explain this a little better as apparently the national media is a bunch of histrionic asshats.

Probably the good people of Galveston are not facing "immanent death". Probably, if you live on the west end of Galveston, which is unprotected by the seawall, you are a complete dumb ass for not evacuating two days ago. Probably if you live on the Bolivar peninsula, you are a complete dumb ass for staying, as ferry service stopped last night, the road which leads to Winnie washes out if someone cries, and, most likely you are guaranteed to lose power and water for a LONG PERIOD OF TIME. Although your situation is not great, I'm not seeing "immanent death". I do predict it highly likely that you will be called an idiot by a member of the coast guard when they rescue you off the roof, though.

However, there are things that could possibly kill you during natural disaster. Let me give you some examples:

1. If you decide it would be pretty cool to walk around the neighborhood barefoot, which is underwater by roughly two feet, and get bitten by a snake, you could totally die.

2. If you decide if would be fun to drive to Kemah (where most of the roads are roughly one foot under sea level) to see what's going on at the Boardwalk, which, well, LITERALLY has no boardwalk anymore and you get hit on the head with a piece of flying debris (winds are right now at 35 mph on the coast and the eye won't even cross land until roughly midnight tonight). You could die.

3. If you really like your neighbor's brand new plasma and you "think" they evacuated-- so it would be really cool to loot, just remember this is Texas. You have about a one in three chance of NOT GETTING SHOT.

4. If your neighbors are crazy rednecks and didn't clear off their porch you could be decapitated by that old tire iron which has been sitting in their front yard for six months when it's propelled through your front window. Yep, that would kill ya.

5. If you thought it would be really cool to experience 120 mph winds in a trailer in Bacliff, yep, you could die.

6. If you get into a fight over the last pack of cigarettes with that old lady attached to an oxygen tank, who Karen saw smoking outside the one and only grocery store open within a twenty mile radius today, you could, possibly, die.

7. If you decide to "hit those bitchin' waves" tomorrow morning and get slammed into the seawall. It is highly likely you will die.

8. If you decide to replace a light bulb in your kitchen, which is already four feet underwater, you could die.

9. If, out of sheer boredom, you start drinking tonight and continue well into tomorrow, and later in the evening get into a verbal sparring match with a cop regarding curfews, open container laws, and golf carts, you could get arrested. If, while sitting in the cell at the Clear Lake Shores police department, rising water begins to appear, yeah, you could die.

10. If tomorrow sounds like a good shrimping day to you and you decide to act on the impulse, you could possibly die.

As for me, I am right now safe and dry with Karen at her parent's house. It's windy and we most likely will sleep downstairs for the evening just because of the noise. Being that we aren't particularly close to the coast, I'm not too worried about out safety.

But stay tuned sophisticated readers. If I have Internet access, I'll post in 24 hours. . .

Go 'Stros

Our House in the Middle of Our Street

2008-09-04T21:14:00.013-05:00

OK, I've got a lot of stuff to cover, so let's get to it:

Correction
It was brought to my attention that Karen's mom also helped with the ceiling fan installation (see previous post). I happen to rather like Karen's mother as she is far better at taking care of my needs than Karen who is right now limiting my food intake to exclusively the food which gets put in my bowl. Probably, I'm not moving with Karen. My current plan is to stay right where I am.

Anyway, for this reason it is very important that I recognize her and tell her how much I love her, despite the fact that she practically almost killed me when throwing a towel in the laundry room this evening.

The Story Which Made My Life Worth Living This Morning
http://www.nydailynews.com/news/politics/republican_race/2008/09/03/2008-09-03_teen_mom_support_group_jamie_lynn_spears.html

Does it make me completely evil that I find this so wonderful?

OK, I know that probably I'm completely evil for other reasons. Whatever. I still find it funny.

OK Penelope, like a bunch of people entered your little contest, and you didn't give the answer to the trivia question. What gives?
A while back I posted a little trivia question:
http://penelopeandsadie.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-former-town-mondays-hopefully.html

First of all, NOBODY actually got the question 100 percent correct. Travis, Reid (who are Texans) and Joshua were close, but not exact. The answer is:

Dusty Hill

Dusty Hill is in the rock band ZZ top. He owns a waterfront monstrosity in San Leon, Texas (the town next door to Kemah) which shares a zip code with our former hometown of Redneck Hell. Apparently, he is tired of living in greater Redneck Hell and has decided to sell his house. Much to our relief, buyers preferred Karen's house to Mr. Hill's (perhaps it is the lack of zebra print carpet-- I don't know) as his is still on the market and Karen's is not.

Plus who wants to live in 12,000 square feet when you could have a nice cozy existence in 1,295 square feet? It's much more efficient. And who needs "waterfront"? That just sounds like a big problem waiting to happen.

Karen's Big Announcement
OK, I was under very strict instructions not to mention this to ANYONE, as Karen didn't want to say anything until the monkey of her other house was off her back.

She's getting a brand new house. Here it is:

http://www.perryhomes.com/images/floorplan_pdfs/1495.PDF

Karen is all excited, picking out carpet, tile, counter tops and the lot.

As you can tell from the picture above it is a little scary right now. Karen swears it'll get better before anyone is expected to live there.

Whatever. I'm still refusing to move. It has no stairs.

How I Spent My Summer (or Diary of a Nasty Housing Market)

2008-09-02T20:08:00.000-05:00

June 22nd:
The house is pretty much finished. Realtor Jan stops by. She makes a few suggestions of things to change, including painting the cabinets in the master bathroom.

June 23rd:
Karen prepares to paint the bathroom cabinets. She goes to Home Depot where she discovers this must be done with oil based paint.

That evening Karen paints the cabinets, finishing at roughly midnight.

June 24th:
At noon (twelve hours later) the oil based paint is still not dry. In fact, the oil based paint is totally wet. Karen drops a/c temperature to 70 degrees.

3 pm: Paint still wet

6 pm: Paint still wet

10 pm: Paint still wet

Karen is very concerned.

June 25th:
8am Paint is still damp. Karen is able to reattach doors for pictures. Realtor Jan takes pictures and house is officially listed.

June 26th:
10 am Karen is freaking out because the bathroom cabinets do not look "good". Calls Juan the paint expert to help her fix a few things.

2:30 pm: In a matter of two hours, Juan the paint expert fixes the kitchen cabinets, patches a small hole in the wall behind the fridge (and paints over it), and paints the area around the kitchen window

In the meantime, Karen replaces the guts in the guest toilet, as it won't stop running. However, when replacing the "guts", a small leak appears at the water tank (seal wasn't taking).

June 27th:
Bed is made. No one comes to see house.

June 28th:
Karen cleans all bathrooms AGAIN and is not successful with fixing leaky toilet in guest bath. Still no one looks at house.

June 29th:
The house listed. Karen vows to make her bed every morning and "be neat". Two people call that morning feigning interest. No success with toilet leak, again.

June 30th:
The house is listed. No one calls to see it. Karen made her bed and is continuing to "be neat".

July 1st:
The house is still listed. No one calls to see it. Karen continues to live in a tidy fashion.

July 2nd:
The house is sitting pretty with pictures on HAR.COM. Still no showings.

3 pm: The dryer breaks with Karen's sheets in it. Karen's super awesome neighbors allow her to use their dryer. Guest toilet still screwed up as well.

July 3rd:
The house is still very neat and clean. No one calls to see it.

July 4th:
Again, the house is very neat and clean. And again, no one calls to see it.

July 5th:
11:30 am Karen decides to put part of an avocado peel down the disposal. Disposal stops working.

And again, Karen makes her bed, but no one comes to see the house.

July 6th:
House is still very neat, but no one comes to see the it.

July 7th:
Karen and realtor Jan get antsy. Decide to put ad in Greensheet. Karen still making bed and being neat. No showing, though.

July 8th:
Karen creates a blog listing to show off house pictures. Emails literally hundreds of agents with link. Karen still making bed and being neat, regardless of no showings.

July 9th:
Karen buys St. Joseph, the patron saint of real estate. Plans to bury it in yard.

July 10th:
Ad in Greensheet appears. Realtor Jan gets no calls.

July 11th:
Realtor gets call regarding ad in Greensheet from someone wanting to rent it. This is not helpful.

July 12th:
Karen learns she is not particularly patient and does not wait well. Begins to fear we will have to live in redneck hell forever. Still Karen makes her bed and lives neatly.

July 13th:
Karen changes out light bulb in bedroom. In the process breaks light cover.

July 14th:
Karen purchases new light cover for ceiling fan. It does not fit.

July 15th:
Karen returns light cover and purchases new light kit for ceiling fan. Light kit does not fit.

3 pm: Karen does not particularly feel inclined to bury St Joseph in flower bed. Decides to create a new spot for him somewhere else.

July 15th:
10 am: Karen discovers she will have to replace entire ceiling fan since Hampton Bay no longer makes light kits or light covers to fit her ceiling fan. Karen considers how she plans to remedy this problem.

Noon: Karen realizes that nothing in her house had broken in over a year and when she decides to put it on the market everything turns to crap.

3 pm: Karen places St. Joseph on the bookshelf next to the fireplace. Looks carefully at figurine and decides he is interesting and decides to start a collection of patron saint action figures.

6 pm: Karen decides to cook dinner.

6:45 p.m.: THE HOUSE GETS A SHOWING!!! Karen rushes around to tidy up house.

6: 50 p.m.: When attempting to stash something in the laundry closet upstairs, door falls off hinges.

7:30 p.m.: Karen leaves home for an hour so realtor Jan can show house. Karen returns only to see that people are still in house with realtor.

8:45 p.m.: People still in house.

9 p.m.: Karen decides visitors are wearing out their welcome. Karen returns home and meets potential buyer who had some questions.

9:30 p.m.: Karen answers all questions for potential buyer. Realtor leaves with potential buyer one.

9:45 p.m.: Realtor Jan calls Karen. Potential buyer one is very interested. However, feels that she should get a five percent discount on the house, along with a new air conditioner.

July 16th:
7 am: Karen calls Bob's AC, who agree to come out to service and inspect unit.

9 am: Unit passes inspection with flying colors. Karen still gets bid on new condenser.

9:30 am: Discusses this with Realtor Jan. Karen agrees to get new condenser if buyer agrees to full amount.

10 am: Buyer says no dice.

10:30 am: Karen calls potential buyer one a few nasty names (to realtor Jan, of course, not buyer). Realtor talks Karen out of the tree and says the best thing to do right now is nothing.

July 17th:
9 am: Karen gets call for another showing. All excited, Karen makes bed and takes out trash.

9:15 am: Doorbell rings and Karen finds potential buyer one standing on her doorstep with new realtor.

9:16 am: Discovering a case of a realtor slut, Karen thinks to herself that she just can't wait to mention this to realtor Jan, who buyer one had verbally agreed to work with as a mediator. (This cuts fees to four percent.)

9:17 am: As buyer one looks at entry hall closet Karen grabs her purse to leave. She then turns around and ever so casually says to buyer number one, "I thought you didn't have a realtor." Buyer number one stammers in front of new realtor or whomever.

9:18 am: Karen leaves and calls Realtor Jan on cell phone. Realtor tries very hard to stay professional.

9:30 am: Karen is secretly relieved, as wasn't totally comfortable with "mediator" situation anyway and buys refrigerator light bulb from Home Depot.

10 am: Karen returns home, not feeling the need to give potential buyer one another two hours of her life. Buyer one leaves shortly thereafter.

July 18th:
10:30 am: Karen gets call for another showing that afternoon.

10:31 am: Karen specifically asked showing service who is showing the house, as not particularly interested in going to much trouble for buyer one. Karen discovers this time it will be shown by a completely different realtor.

10:32 am: Karen makes bed and tidies up house and goes about her day.

July 19th:
9:30 am: Realtor Jan calls Karen and tells her that she hasn't heard a word back from buyer one and potential buyer two would prefer not to leave hometown, which is Karen's hometown. She also asks Karen to find out if she has a windstorm certificate. Since Karen has no idea what this is she assumes she does not.

9:31 am: Karen wonders why potential buyer two looked in redneck hell if wasn't interested in living in redneck hell, which, by the way, is one of the fastest growing cities in the Houston area. However, this is only a temporary distraction from the fact that she doesn't have a windstorm certificate.

July 20th: Karen is beginning to feel quite confident she will live in redneck hell forever. Nevertheless, she is still making her bed every morning.

July 21st: No showing today, even though Karen made her bed.

July 22nd:
10 am: Karen calls insurance company to find out if she really needs windstorm certificate. Insurance people have no idea what she is talking about and research topic.

1:00 pm: Karen's insurance representative calls after research to tell her she might be grandfathered in and won't need the certificate to sell the house. However, he won't know for sure until the state insurance people return his call, which won't be any time soon since a hurricane is headed straight for south Texas/ Mexico.

3:00 pm: Insurance dude calls Karen again. After talking to some other people, he tells her she has to have the certificate and doesn't know how she'll get it without replacing the roof.

3:01 pm: Karen spends hour crying, as she really doesn't want to replace a ten- year- old roof

3:45 pm: Karen calls HOA president as means of researching when roof was replaced.

3:46 pm: Karen was not successful in this endeavor.

3:47 pm: Karen is once again worrying she'll have to live in redneck hell forever.

July 23rd:
9:00 am: Karen calls realtor Jan, who explains to Karen she doesn't have to "prove" her roof is only ten years old, but only have it inspected.

9:10 am: Karen calls engineering company to schedule time for inspector to inspect roof.

Still, Karen is making her bed, despite no one looking at her house.

July 24th:
3:30 pm: Roof inspector comes out to house. Says roof will pass after minor repairs.

4:30 pm: Roof repairs made by a dude named Tom in less than twenty minutes. Karen writes check to $200 bucks.

July 25th:
Roof reinspected and passed. Karen writes another check for certificate.

Karen realizes she is writing a lot of checks.

July 26th:
Karen persuades the evil Jeff and her father to come over Sunday and help her fix the laundry room door, the disposal, the toilet, and help her change out the ceiling fan.

July 27th:
Evil Jeff and Karen's dad are successful in fixing the toilet and the laundry room door. They even help her out with the attaching the motor of the fan. However, they were not able to fix disposal.

July 28th:
Karen goes to Home Depot and buys a disposal and schedules a time for them to install it. Inspired with all the fixed stuff in her house, Karen decides to clean laundry room. In the process of cleaning the laundry room, Karen fixes dryer.

Karen decides she's the Martha Stewart of home repair and calls everyone she knows to brag. She also does a load of laundry to celebrate.

And again, no one looks at her house, but the bed is made.

July 29th:
After starting a load of laundry the night before, Karen discovers that that her washing machine stopped after cycle one, leaving clothes sitting in water.

Karen calls a repairman who agrees to come out the next day.

July 30th:
10 am: Disposal guy comes and installs the disposal in less than ten minutes.

2 pm: Washer repair dude comes and repairs washer in less than five minutes.

Karen no longer feels like the Martha Stewart of home repair.

But still, she made her bed.

July 31st:
Karen decides to distract herself by completely redoing the flower bed in the front of her house. Power washes front of house, as thought it was "dingy".

August 1st:
Karen borrows gardening tools from parents. Father threatens to cut off hand if said materials are not returned.

August 2nd:
Spends close to $150 on dirt, plants, mulch, fake stone, and other gardening materials.

Spends entire day clearing flower bed and trimming hedge.

Very relieved no one is coming to see house, as entry hall looks nasty from dirt.

August 3rd:
Plants flowers and bushes in flower bed. Looks very nice.

Still, no more showings, despite Karen making bed.

August 4th:
Problem: tropical storm forms in the gulf headed straight for Galveston.

Karen curses herself for not paying attention to the local news.

Karen mops entry hall and kitchen to clean up after the dirt.

Karen gets call for a showing that evening.

August 5th:
4 am: Karen wakes up in anticipation of the storm. New casters mention that the storm veered north towards Louisiana.

4:15 am: Karen walks outside. Absofreakinglutely nothing. No wind, no rain.

Nothing

5 am: Karen walks outside again. Still absolutely nothing.

OK, this is our complaint about news coverage and storms: Is it really necessary to have all day news coverage on all three major networks? First of all, the people who really need the information probably don't have power. Second, being cooped up totally sucks. Wouldn't it be nice to watch a nice 007 marathon?

Karen gets another call for showing that evening.

August 6th:
Karen gets contract. Karen is too numb to get excited. Karen and realtor Jan talk numbers for negotiation.

August 7th:
Karen doesn't hear back from realtor and realtor doesn't hear back regarding negotiation. Karen once again resigns herself to living in redneck hell for the rest of her life.

August 8th:
Realtor Jan calls and gives final information regarding deal. Now we go to inspections.

August 9th:
Karen is worrying about everything. Right now she's concerned about appraisal numbers.

August 10th:
Karen is still worrying about everything.

August 11th:
Karen discovers that she is not only wretched at waiting, but is also a wretched negotiator.

August 12th:
Karen is trying to distract herself with work stuff.

August 13th:
The inspection is set for Thursday. Karen gets a referral for a fence guy to repair the back fence.

Two very tan shirtless dudes (but not in a good way) appear at the house and rebuild fence. The fence was repaired in roughly an hour.

August 14th:
Inspection is completed while Karen sits at a work meeting. She said it was very surreal knowing someone was in her house poking around while she was away.

August 15th:
And the inspection comes back. The buyer amends contract for only one thing:

A brand new air conditioner.

Karen and realtor Jan offer $1,000 in cash towards the purchase of a new unit, along with a $350 renewable home warranty.

August 16th:

8:30 am: Karen waits to hear from realtor

9:00 am: Karen still hasn't heard from realtor

10:30 am: Karen waits very nervously

11:45 am: Karen is still waiting.

1:30 pm: Karen is still waiting and more nervous

2:00 pm: Realtor Jan calls to tell her that she hasn't heard anything.

2:05 pm: Karen is beginning to resign herself to living in redneck hell for the rest of her life.

2:15 pm: Karen even more nervous. Says short prayer and promises to be incredibly nice to the kiddoes next school year.

3:30 pm: Karen's realtor calls to tell her the offer was ACCEPTED!!! Karen says another prayer of thanks.

3:45 pm: Realtor Jan emails paperwork to Karen, which Karen signs, scans, and sends

August 17th:
Karen moves a lot of her belongings into the parent's house.

August 18th:

Appraisal dude appraises house. Karen trying to not loose sleep.

August 19th:

9 am: Karen gets call from realtor Jan, who tell her house meets appraisal value.

2 pm: Realtor Jan calls again. Apparently survey was done incorrectly when Karen bought house. The right corner of the back of the house was marked "south" instead of southwest. This is keeping closing paperwork from being processed.

Once again, I could not make this up.

2:05 pm: Karen cries.

4 pm: Karen calls title company, who originally did the closing back in 2001, to rant. Underwriter Linda was very nice and Karen didn't have to give her planned out speech involving law suits and fire.

August 20th:

Karen gives presentation at work. Glad to be distracted from house drama.

11 am: Realtor Jan calls Karen to tell her closing papers were finalized with a different underwriter. All is good but might need a new survey.

2 pm: Realtor Jan calls again saying no new survey is needed.

August 21st:

Closing date is changed to Thursday, August 28th.

August 22nd:

All is pretty good with the world.

Title company needed Home Owner Association information. Karen leaves work early to give it to them.

August 23rd:
Karen moves out of house and gets her hair done, but not in that order.

August 24th:

Karen rests, trying not to worry.

August 25th:

Problem Number One: Tropical Storm Gustavo.

A house in Galveston County cannot go to closing when a hurricane is in the gulf. Storm not expected to enter gulf until Sunday, much to the relief of Karen.

Karen worried about buyer wigging regarding natural disasters.

Problem Number Two: Labor Day weekend is the busiest weekend of the year for closings.

Problem Number Three: According to title company gal, the loan office used by buyer is notoriously SLOW.

Can we see problems???

August 26th:

No word on anything. Karen is attempting to stay patient.

August 27th:

4 pm: No paperwork yet, according to realtor Jan. Agreed to talk in the morning. Buyer purchased insurance a day in advance, as insurance provider would not bind policies Friday as storm was too close.

August 28th:

10 am: Karen called realtor Jan. No papers yet.

1 pm: Still no papers. Realtor Jan tells Karen to call before she leaves.

3 pm: Still no papers. Realtor Jan tells to head on out, but prepare for it not to happen.

Karen makes arrangement to Friday to miss work for the closing.

4:30 pm: Karen calls realtor Jan from Sonic to find out if she has time to get something to eat, as did not have time for lunch today. Realtor Jan informs Karen closing will not happen.

Neither Karen or Realtor Jan is overly thrilled. But closing is scheduled for three the next day.

August 29th:

10 am: Karen gets call from Realtor Jan. Apparently closing papers were held up again because insurance policy was written wrong.

Realtor Jan tries very hard to stay professional.

New policy being written by a different company who was willing to bind today.

10:15 am: Karen decides to spend her day shopping for a dining room table.

1 pm: Karen calls realtor Jan who tells her that papers are still not in, probably because of insurance screwup and not to hold breathe about closing today.

Karen still shopping.

1:30 pm: Karen calls underwriter. Karen discusses matters with underwriter who again blames loan office. Karen asks for name of loan office so that she can tell EVERYONE she knows not to use them. Karen also suggests that she call loan office herself so that to inform them of her one woman attempt to "spread the word", so to speak.

Underwriter agrees to call loan dudes.

Sometimes it totally pays to be a little off kilter.

1:45 pm: Underwriter calls to tell Karen that papers will be at office in 45 minutes and her closing will be at four.

Karen is happy. Continues to shop for table.

4:00 pm: Karen gets to closing. Meets buyer, and buyer agent.

4:15 pm: Karen waits

4:20 pm: Number need to be checked on paperwork. Karen continues to wait.

4:30 pm: Karen continues to wait.

4:45 pm: Underwriter announces that house won't be "funded" until Tuesday.

5:00 pm: Buyer's agent begins discussing "rentback" with buyer.

5:15 pm: Negotiate rentback

5:30 pm: Jan and Karen flip through People and discuss Sarah Palin (this is before knocked up teenage daughter, so conversation was limited to, well, everything not related to knocked up teenage daughter).

5:35 pm: Discuss Britney Spears' mom writing a parenting book. Karen mimics the Deliverance theme in waiting room of underwriter's office.

5:40 pm: Karen entertains buyer, buyer's agent, and realtor Jan with Hurricane Rita evacuation story: driving fourteen hours (roughtly 6 mph--average-- slower than horse and buggy, I suspect) to Austin. Karen wigging out about people who live 75 miles from the coast joining the evacuation (see the problem) and listening to Coast to Coast crazies talking about their alien abduction stories. Karen considered calling in herself and telling those crazies off.

FYI: If you've never heard Coast to Coast it runs at like 3 or 4 am on AM radio nationally. At least once in your life you gotta listen to it, as it is completely bizarre.

5:45 pm: Karen beginning to get antzy.

5:50 pm: Discusses new house options with realtor Jan and buyer's agent (more on this in next post my friends), as buyer works on getting power and water in Karen's soon to be former house.

6:00 pm: Finally begin to sign papers.

6:05 pm: Karen signs about a kajillion pieces of paperwork declaring her house is, well,no longer hers.

6:10 pm: Karen still signing.

6:20 pm: Karen still signing.

6:30 pm: All papers are signed. Karen and realtor Jan hug. All is hopefully good with the world.

August 30th:
All television coverage is "Gustavo" which is probably good for Govenor Palin, as people get really pissy when Repubicans have drama.

However, this is very boring.

August 31st:

Still all television is Gustavo. We are totally bored with so much coverage which only involves us if we choose to take Interstate Ten to join those evacuating from Louisiana and spending a long weekend in Houston (this time not in the Astrodome).

September 1st:

Result of Gustavo in relation to Houston: it got kinda windy this evening.

It might rain Wednesday.

September 2nd:

9 am: Karen is told that she has to drive an extra thirty miles after work to return to closing office so she may sign a HUD document which was drawn up wrong.

On the bright side she will get her house money today.

5 pm: Karen gets house money. Drives across the street to bank and deposits check.

5:15 pm: Deposits check.

And, as far as I know, all is done with the house drama.

Karen would like to thank realtor Jan and the gals with Southland Title for a riotous last few days. It's been memorable.

So basically, that was our summer. Hopefully next year will be just as exciting.

Anywho, in the next few days I'll let tell you about phase two of our housing mission: the new house.

Go 'Stros.

A Dream Destroyed

2008-08-30T13:02:00.002-05:00

I have a really big problem:

Karen

She's totally messing up my system.

A week ago, Karen moved all of her crap (and herself) into her parents' house. This is fine, but she's become quite a hindrance within my newly enjoyable lifestyle.

First off, she told her parents that I really didn't need to eat turkey sausage at breakfast. Exactly what does Karen know about "my needs"? I happen to like the turkey sausage at breakfast, thank you very much.

And let me ask you this, dear readers of discriminating taste.:

If someone gets lunch meat out of the refrigerator and then puts it on the counter and walks away from it, isn't said lunch meat free game? On a couple of occasions I've helped myself to a snack, assuming it was meant for me, and these people totally start freaking out.

Karen's dad is pretty cool. He always gives me the lunch meat I was munching on after the fact.

"Oh yeah, that's going to teach her not to jump on the kitchen counters and steal food," Karen told him.

Whatever

Karen told me in June when we moved in here that this was only temporary and we'd be moving into a new house after she bought a new one.

Well, I've decided I'm not going. Karen's parents are far nicer. They totally understand my importance. Karen's mom even pours food in my bowl when she wakes up in the morning, as opposed to Karen who doesn't feed us until right before she leaves for work.

Besides, Karen has mentioned on a number of occasions that we would not be getting a house with stairs. Now how am I supposed to get my cardio?

Whatever. I'm tired. I'm off to take a nap with Karen's dad.

My Former Town Mondays (Hopefully)

2008-08-14T20:00:00.011-05:00

I have a little trivia contest for you guys:

The picture above I got off of the Houston Association of Realtors (HAR) website. It is the home of the one and only celebrity (other than me, of course) who lives in my hopefully former zip code.

Do you know whose house it is? It is a waterfront monstrosity is on 3.4 acres and the house itself is 19,560 square feet (actually I think that's the total of the entire compound, which consists of three houses, but whatever). There are clues in the picture which will give you the identity of the owner. The asking price is 4.4 million.

Anyway, leave your answers on the comments page. The winner gets a "You are No Ordinary Cat" award, under the normal stipulations, of course.

So get working on this my friends.

I'll get back with you later on in the week.

Go 'Stros

"I looked for an answer to my question. But reason could not give me an answer-reason is incommensurable with the question."

2008-08-13T22:50:00.006-05:00

Things to Do at Three in the Morning
We've been watching the Olympics all week. Being purists, Karen, Sadie, and I prefer to watch the games live, as opposed to the tape delays during waking hours.

You know what I think is way cool: the world record line in swimming. I'm totally fascinated with that.

World Politics
This whole Russian thing is interesting:

A. Because the world seems somewhat shocked that a former KGB agent would have no qualms invading a democratically governed country.

B. That ole Putin is hanging out at the Olympics, which is just ironic.

C. That the French brokered cease fire was a bust.

Why is any of this a shocker to anyone???

The Bachelor Meets the Bachelorette
Karen and I were listening to Rush Limbaugh when he mentioned something about a study which mentioned that most women are uninformed until they got married at which time they developed more political interests, thus gaining information from their spouses.

Karen and I discussed this. Her response was she saw a study once that suggested that men are more drawn towards antisocial behavior until they get married, at which time dudes begin to straighten up.

So by Karen's logic, if she's uninformed because she's unmarried, Mr. Limbaugh is drawn towards neerdowell behavior because he is a bachelor.

This is code for Karen thinks Mr. Limbaugh is a dumb ass.

Other Things
I am working on another episode of Masterass Theater based upon the antics of John Edwards refusing to leave the men's restroom because reporters were accosting him at the door.

Is this in bad taste?

OK, probably it is in bad taste. Let me ask you this then:

Do you want me to publish it when I finish, or would you be offended?

I, the awesome and all knowing cat, would hate to offend the readers. However, if you've been reading this blog for any length of time, I don't think you offend too easily. I mean last week I wrote about sex toys which disappeared from the HPD evidence storage, for crying out loud. I'm guessing you people have pretty solid constitutions.

As always, let me know your thoughts.

Victoria Osteen Gave Me Hemorrhoids

2008-08-07T22:16:00.008-05:00

I found some awesome stuff this week in the newspaper this week. None of which has to do with John Edwards.

Let's face it: is anyone in total shock over this? I always thought ole John with his $400 hair cut was a little creepy.

I'm curious about what The Enquirer is holding over his head, which would merit a confession after denying the relationship for so long.

Anyway . . .

Crazy Story Number One: Victoria and the Flight Attendant

I totally love this.

http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/front/5930118.html

I have a plan:

Every time someone acts the even the slightest bit obnoxious towards me I'm so calling a lawyer and suing over hemorrhoids.

How are they going to prove otherwise? Nobody wants to question hemorrhoids.

Seriously though, nobody needs to get rich off of Osteen's histrionics. My concern with suing the wife of the smiling preacher is that she would appear to be the victim.

I don't think I want the world to perceive her as a victim.

Besides, despite the whole concept of "it's easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God" thing, the Osteens have found a way to hire lawyer extraordinaire Rusty "I am Arthur Anderson" Hardin. You know, the same attorney who went nose to nose with the mind of a generation, Anna Nicole Smith.

I don't think you can win a frivolous lawsuit against ole Rusty. The dude is mean. He doesn't mind bringing up uncomfortable information like getting drunk on a plane wearing a half million dollars worth of jewelry and then passing out, only to awake with no jewels.

That's Anna Nicole, not Victoria Osteen.

It'll be interesting to see how all this pans out.

Issue Number Two: The Case of the Missing Sex Toys

http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/front/5930980.html

So . . . what are your thoughts? I ain't buying this whole "destroyed" excuse.

But my readers who are nonTexans are probably a little dumbfounded at the moment.

Is it a problem to sell "marital aides" in Texas?

Yes, up until February 13, 2008, apparently.

A little background on this sudden concern regarding the "female tension releaver":

http://www.cnn.com/2004/LAW/02/11/obscenity.trial.reut/

Now, let me tell you how we know about this:

In the spring of 2004, Karen was teaching a journalism class. They were learning about editorials and she had the kids research a controversial issue (of their choosing-- no this was not on the list) and then write an editorial based upon conclusions drawn from their readings. Most of the kids picked the typical teenage topics: legalizing pot, lowering the drinking age, some random environmental issue, abortion, condom machines in the restrooms at school, mandated school prayer (this is Texas, people), etc. So anyway, Karen is reading these very predictable (and mostly pretty bad) editorials and she runs across, low and behold:

Texas Doesn't Toy with Sex

She had to give the kid an A just for originality.

Guess What???

We got a contract on the house. Cross your fingers, dudes.

It's Been a Long Time, Rush Limbaugh

2008-07-23T00:39:00.009-05:00

I've been kinda busy.

Actually, I haven't been doing much other than lounging around Karen's parent's house. But I have a plethora of loose ends to tie up, so let's get down to business:

Movie Recommendation from Penelope the Cat

Rent The Good German.

Speaking of Rush Limbaugh

Did you know that Rush Limbaugh has a subscription service? For fifty bucks a year you can listen to prerecorded radio at your convienience. You can also look at the variety of documents he references during his show and get access to his top secret "personal" email.

I totally want this.

Karen said no dice and suggested I find gainful employment.

I've Been Awarded

OK, months ago Reb, one of my many Canadian friends, gave me an "Excellent Blogger Award". Although I thanked her on her website a while back I haven't acknowledged this publically until now:

Dear Reb:

Thank you so much for the "Excellent Blogger Award". I'm sure this most high honor is probably of the same level of prestige as a Nobel Prize. Since Nobel winners get a million dollars, I'm assuming I will be receiving a similar amount. However, my check has not arrived. Do you have my mailing address? Karen told me she'd be willing to cash it for me, as I am a cat and do not have time for such frivolus details as modern banking. Just let me know what I need to do.

-- P

So what else can I tell you . . .

Karen and George
Karen is tense. She's stressed about the house stuff (long story). Anyhoo, Karen was driving to visit Sadie and me and the typical half hour drive took over an hour. You wanna take a gander at why? It seems that George the Sequel was in Houston for Dr. DeBakey's funeral. So traffic was nutty between the airforce base and downtown.

I think it would be a kick if George flew coach.

More Freaky Politics

Did you people hear about this?

http://abclocal.go.com/ktrk/story?section=news/local&id=6280419

Basically, all of the local congressmen (including former presidential candidate Ron Paul) were on a plane leaving Houston and heading to D.C., only to make a sudden emergency landing in New Orleans.

They were going to vote on an aviation safety bill.

The Big Announcement

Soon we here at I Don't Pretend to be an Ordinary Cat are planning to implement a new feature:

What the Crap Wednesdays

Basically, all the things we find annoying, bizarre, whatever will be featured every Wednesday. I've sent Karen out and about in Redneck Hell taking pictures. She's stockpiling some really awesome stuff.

However, she won't give me anything until after the house sells and we are moved.

But stay tuned, my friends, stay tuned.

Sunday Morning News Shows

OK, you know what the discussion was on ALL of the uberimportant Sunday morning news shows?

McCain's commercial.

Have you seen it?

Well, regardless let me give you my new favorite mantra:

"The three most boring topics of conversation are: Paris Hilton, Britney Spears, and the pigmentation of Barack Obama." -- George Will

And that's all I'm sayin' about that.

So Penelope, we've been watching CNN with baited breath, hoping you were safe during this "tropical storm". Are you nice and dry???

The answer to this question is, yes, I am quite nice and dry, still hanging out at Karen's parent's house. Tropical storm Eduardo was basically a bust, at least for us. Karen, who is still at our old house, which is way closer to the coast, is stuck at home, enjoying what has amounted to roughly a half inch of rain.

I plan to write more about all of this in a couple of days, as the whole experience is pretty ridiculous.

So stay tune, readers, stay tuned. . .

The Mexican Divorce No Longer

2008-07-02T07:05:00.011-05:00

I would like to dedicate this post to Rush Limbaugh, as according to Wiki, he's been married THREE times. Republicans, think about you mouthpiece. You're playing with fire when you get rid of the simple "no fault" divorce.

That and I need blog hits.

I've got a story for you:

http://www.totaldivorce.com/divorce_articles_get_divorced_in_texas.asp

I hope this link gets you to where you need to go. If it doesn't let me explain:

Rep. Warren Chisum (R-Pampa) introduced a bill into the Texas legislature giving couples a choice between the marriage licenses. One is called a "covenant" the other is a "standard" license. Under a "covenant" license, one may only be granted a divorce in "adverse circumstances".

What exactly are adverse circumstances?

Basically, domestic violence.

Then the couple has to attend both psychological and clerical counseling.

This is the second time the idea has been proposed. It was heard last year in the Texas house and voted down. (Imagine that, a ridiculous idea voted down in Texas Congress. The logic is freaking me out.) Now it is appearing again.

There is also a discussion about allowing the "no fault divorce", under the covenant plan, if all parties are willing to take a class beforehand.

Which brings me to another episode of Masterass Theater:

The I Wanna Divorce Class

This, of course, is merely speculative.

So don't sue me, A Rod, Madonna, Christie Brinkley, Christie Brinkley's husband, whose name I'm too lazy to look up, A Rod's wife whose name I'm also too lazy to look up, and Guy Richie.

Don't hate me because I'm lazy.

Scene: This play takes place in the Sunday school classroom at a local Baptist church. (It just had to be Baptist-- if Madonna had to attend the divorce class wouldn't it just be awesome that it be in a Texas Baptist church?) Chairs are in a circle in the center of the room. From clockwise: Patty Goodwill, a licensed professional counselor (LPC), who is a perky blond about thirty, Madonna, Guy Richie, A Rod, A Rod's Wife, Christie Brinkley, and Christie Brinkley's husband.

Patty Goodwill: OK, let's start out by introducing ourselves. My name is Patty Goodwill. I am a Licensed Professional Counselor and have been practicing for three years. Our purpose today is to explore options available to you other than divorce.

Madonna: My name is Esther--

Patty: Excuse me? I thought you were Madonna?

Madonna: Madonna is my performing name. My Kaballah name is Esther.

Patty: Oh

Madonna: I am a Golden Globe winning performer. My concert tour was the highest grossing of the summer of 2007.

Patty: How lovely (looking at Guy) and you are?

Madonna: (a little annoyed she was cut off) He's my husband Guy Richie, the famous director.

Guy: (smiles) Hi

A Rod: I'm A Rod

Patty: Is A Rod what we should call you?

A Rod: Yeah, I don't remember my legal name. I'm a professional baseball player for the New York Yankees. This is my wife and she's pretty pissed.

Patty: How so?

A Rod: Basically, I've been screwing Madonna.

Patty: Let's not say "screwing", A Rod. Try to be a little more sensitive.

A Rod: I'm sorry--

Madonna: Wait a second. A Rod and I are just good friends. I introduced him to the Kaballah--

A Rod's Wife: (angry, looking at Madonna) Oh, and I suppose the late night visits and the pictures of him leaving your apartment were Kaballah studies. Don't call me stupid, SKANK.

Patty: Let's calm down, please. (looking at A Rod's wife) I know you must be very troubled right now. It would be very helpful to you to use more concrete language so that we understand your anger.

A Rod's Wife: I think SCANK is pretty concrete.

Patty: OK . . .

Christie Brinkley: (tossing her blond hair over her shoulder) I'm Christie Brinkley, eighties supermodel. I'm here because my husband is addicted to porn and 18- year- olds.

Christie Brinkley's Husband: I'm the husband.

Madonna: Oh please

Christie Brinkley: Excuse me?

Madonna: Christie, I've known you since Studio 54. You really cannot still be this stupid.

Patty: Name calling is absolutely unacceptable--

Madonna: (Turning to Patty) I'm talking. (Back to Christie) Anyway, how many times have you been married?

Christie: Four

Madonna: Four times. And you STILL are picking idiots?

Christie Brinkley's Husband: Hey--

Christie: But we had a near death experience together--

Madonna: So? I had near death experiences with both Charles Barkley and Warren Beatty. That certainly doesn't mean I should marry either. Look at the list, babe. You were married to the race car driver--

Christie: I was really young then.

Madonna: Whatever. Then Billy Joel, who could be considered a race car driver, if race car drivers drink Peach Schnapps while racing and NASCAR is held on roads in the Hamptons. Apparently there was a third husband, who I don't know anything about, and this loser.

Christie Brinkley's Husband: I don't appreciate being called a loser by an aging club girl, who right now is a plastic surgeon's portfolio.

Madonna: (Sucking in air) I've never had cosmetic surgery. NEVER. I've aged well due to my exercise regiment, diet regiment and--

A Rod's Wife: Screwing EVERYONE.

Christie Brinkley: And a little Botox

Madonna: (screaming) THAT'S NOT TRUE. I don't use Botox.

Patty: (a little panicked) Hold on. That's not why were here. Let's take a step back from our individual anger and consider talking honestly about what you can do to salvage the relationship.

(a long pause)

Christie Brinkley: I got nothing.

Christie Brinkley's Husband: Me either. I guess I shouldn't have screwed the 18-year-old.

Patty: Again, let's not say "screw".

Christie Brinkley: Probably not.

A Rod: I should have stayed away from Madonna.

A Rod's Wife: Yep

A Rod: And Madonna's assistant

Madonna: Excuse me?

A Rod: And that dancer from Score's

Madonna: What?

A Rod: And that intern with the Yankees front office. Both of them.

Madonna: You CHEATED on me.

A Rod's Wife: The other woman doesn't get cheated ON, idiot.

Patty: Please, let's end the name calling.

A Rod: And who are you to talk, fleeing to Paris with ole Lenny.

A Rod's Wife: Lenny is a friend of mine. I needed to get away from all of this drama.

Madonna: Did you stay at his place in Monmatre? Isn't it great.

A Rod's Wife: (with a giggle) Totally

Patty: Madonna, er Esther, you haven't spoken about your relationship with Guy. What could you do to improve your marriage?

Madonna: Oh, we're not divorcing.

Patty: Excuse me?

Madonna: First of all, we have no prenump. If I divorce Guy, I'm out like 100 million dollars.

Guy: Try 300 million, dear.

Madonna: Greedy little failure, aren't you?

Patty: So why are you here?

Madonna: Well, the Hollywood drama divorce is really trendy right now and I'm just feeling out the turf.

The room is silent, as the group considers the concept.

A Rod's Wife: (turns to A Rod) I'm writing a tell all.

A Rod: Really?

A Rod's Wife: Really

Christie Brinkley's Husband: (turning to Christie) So am I.

Christie Brinkley: (annoyed) And what are you going to say? That you were sucking a $3,000 a month porn habit out of my checking account?

Christie Brinkley's Husband: Point taken

Christie Brinkley: (flipping her hair back) This is getting old. Patty it was a joy. I think you can tell that we are definitely divorce material. What would you do in my position?

Patty: (looking haggard) Drink. Give me the form and I'll sign it. (looking at A Rod and Wife) And you guys I assume want the same.

A Rod's Wife: Yep. (A Rod's wife's cell phone rings) I'm sorry I have to take this-- it's the PI I hired to go through A Rod's garbage. (Turning to A Rod) I hope you were good last night.

A Rod: (following his wife out of the room) YOU CAN'T DO THAT. I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING AT HOME LAST NIGHT.

Madonna: (watching Patty pull out a third form) What are you doing?

Patty: I'm completing another one of these for you guys. I don't want to sit through this again and I'm not seeing your marriage lasting a lifetime.

Madonna: (shrieking) OF COURSE MY MARRIAGE WILL LAST A LIFETIME. I CAN'T LET JOKE OF A "FILM MAKER" TAKE ALL OF MY MONEY.

Guy: I won't take all, just half.

Patty: Whatever, I'm not spending another evening like this again.

(Madonna storms out of the room. The soon-to-be former Brinkleys exit as well.)

Patty (turning to Guy): So . . . do you have a plan in all this ridiculousness?

Guy: No. I just like to dangle the idea of divorce periodically. It's not like we see each other that much. We're not even in the same country most of the time.

END OF SCENE

In Texas we are all about protecting the "sanctity of marriage". We've got amendments to the already quite amended Texas constitution prohibiting certain populations from marrying and everything. My question is this:

Does making divorce difficult really do anything for protecting the "sanctity of marriage"? I guess, perhaps it makes people consider the whole picture a little longer and harder. But divorce is a real pain in the ass. Not to mention expensive. I asked Karen about this and she told me of all the divorced people she knows, she can only think of one she truly believes didn't give her marriage a true shot. She also knows one person who pondered divorce for roughly thirteen years before she acted on it.

I think I have a better solution: why not make GETTING MARRIED a little more difficult? For heterosexual couples, it's not difficult to marry. I think the license costs like forty bucks (someone correct me if I'm wrong-- the man won't allow me to marry). Maybe you should be evaluated beforehand. I don't know. It just seems pretty stupid to try and convince adults not to divorce at the point when they've already made the decision in their little pissed off brains.

Good luck with that.

What the Chuck???

2008-06-25T14:47:00.007-05:00

So much going on. So much going on. . .

It's been a very eventful weekend.

Chuck the Pug

J.T., Karen's non evil brother, came to visit from Dallas. He brought with him both a girl and a dog.

Other than the fact that the girl stole my room and shut the door so I couldn't go inside and take a nap in her suitcase, I have no serious beefs with the her.

She seems nice.

However, the pug is a different story.

Chuck is a PUPPY. He kind of looks like a drunken Gargoyle. He runs about chasing things. Sometimes when he moves with stuff in his mouth he runs into furniture. He chews on things. Thankfully his attention span is nil, so he doesn't chew long enough to destroy or damage much.

Chuck chases his tail, that is, until he is distracted by something random.

He tried to eat tissue paper. I could not make this up. Who does that?

I can't believe Karen's parents would allow a DOG in their home. It just isn't civilized. The dog even pooped on the rug by the back door. That's utterly disgusting. Even Sadie wouldn't do that.

Sadie, by the way, is hiding underneath the bed in the spare room. She comes out only when she's sure Chuck is in his kennel. Period. Then she takes care of all her business at once and goes back into hiding.

Thankfully, Chuck has a healthy fear of me and is too small to jump on the couch. So I'm pretty safe as long as I stay on furniture.

Karen told me I needed to "be nice" to Chuck.

Whatever

Chuck ate some of my food, I think. I didn't actually see him do this, but I could sense his dog stench by the bowl.

So I ate some of his.

Done

Rush Limbaugh and the Celebrated Stalker

2008-06-24T00:51:00.008-05:00

I've taken a slight hit at the blog counter. For this reason, we are returning to our original format of dropping the name of Rush Limbaugh in the headline.

To the right is a picture of my problem.

This is Sofie. She comes over during the day between the hours of nine and noon. During this time I live in the most serious fear for my life. Sofie is a dangerous stalker, obsessed with my celebrity status. She follows me around the house, squealing and shrieking with delight. She tries to pull my tail, poke my eyes, bite my ears, etc.

She licked Sadie. I could not make this up. This is even more disgusting knowing the fact Sadie sheds to the point it is amazing she has any hair at all. (Karen and I've discussed waxing her, but Karen thinks that would be "cruel"-- whatever.)

As a celebrated writer, it is very difficult to produce under such stressful circumstances. Due to Sofie's "cuteness" Karen is only minimally sympathetic. She did say that as soon as the house sold we'd buy another one and then Sadie and I would move back in with her.

Actually, I'm kind of digging it here at Karen's parent's house. The house is like four times the size of Karen's. They have lots of places to hide and Karen's mom does a far better job with fulfilling all of my general needs.

I just would like a restraining order against Sofie, who is probably planted here by her father, the evil Jeff, just to terrorize me.

Anyway . . .

Our House

Our house if finally officially on the market!!!

Karen asked me to use my notoriety for marketing purposes. I'm going to put some pictures in a photobucket slide show and display it on ye ole blog in the sidebar. Anyway, if you like what you see shoot me an email (penelopeandsadie@aol.com) and I'll get you in touch with the right people.

In the meantime, it's now five after nine. I have to get upstairs before Sofie gets here.

Go 'Stros

"Pimple on the Arse of Journalism"

2008-06-18T19:35:00.004-05:00

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.

Totally

Tim Russert is No Ordinary Cat

2008-06-16T17:52:00.011-05:00

Today I am foregoing the shameless name dropping of Rush Limbaugh for the purpose of blog hits. I think it's important for us to recognize one of the greatest men in modern American journalism.

FYI: The photo is of Luke Russert, son of Tim Russert. It was taken by Alex Wong and provided by Reuters.

I did not pay for this, as I am a cat and have no money.

Now back to the show . . .

Tim Russert

For my entire life I spent almost every Sunday morning while Karen flipped between Face the Nation and Meet the Press. It's just what we do here at I Don't Pretend to be an Ordinary Cat.

Sunday's broadcast brought back so many memories. My personal favorite was Russert nailing Chertoff (who I swear looks like those Nazis in Raiders of the Lost Art when their faces are being melted off by the Ark of the Covenant) over the slow assistance after hurricane Katrina. I also like the "is there anything in your past which would make your nomination for presidency an embarrassment" question to ole slick Willie circa 1991.

I don't want to repeat what everyone else is saying. But let's face it: Tim Russert was by far the fairest interviewer in the American media. We have lost more than what we realize.

Youtube has the Sunday's show if you'd like to see it.

Anyway . . .

Have you heard about this?

http://www.thestandard.com/news/2008/06/13/ap-sues-blogger-too-long-excerpts

Does this mean I can't cite articles from Associated Press anymore?

What happens if I continue?

Are they going to sue me?

What do they expect to get? I'm a cat. I own nothing, as I am far too important for property responsibilities.

I guess they could sue Karen.

"Don't even bring me into this," Karen said to me. "My name better not be affiliated with your blog if I'm going to be sued over a violation of fair use."

Whatever

S0, fellow bloggers, what are your plans? How do you guys interpret this ridiculousness?

Anyway . . .

More on My Circumstances

So as you know I'm temporarily living at Karen's parent's house. This is OK, except for one thing:

The small one.

Every morning the small one (who they call Sofie) comes over. This wouldn't be a problem except she is very predatory and I spend most of those hours looking over my shoulder, hoping that she isn't behind me, making an attempt at my life.

It just isn't fair. She's allowed to come after me, going for my tail or ears, but if I so much as hiss in response, I'm the "bad" one.

There are just some things I don't understand.

"And so we go on, boats against the current, borne ceaslessly into the past . . . "

Rush Limbaugh at Studio 54

2008-06-08T21:08:00.008-05:00

The news right now is very boring. I am tired of HillBilly, Barack or Barry, or whoever.

But I caught this story right out of jolly old London and I totally think it's great:

http://blogs.telegraph.co.uk/politics/threelinewhip/june2008/borisalcoholban.htm

Evidently, up until the beginning of this month it was perfectly OK to drink in the London subway. I was not aware of this. Although I've never been to London, I can't imagine that it would be a good idea to drink openly on public transportation.

Maybe that's just my puritanical American side coming out, I don't know.

Anyway, some Londoners, celebrating the "last days of disco" and posting it on YouTube, made the public transportation a real adventure. Some of the footage is put to Abba's "Dancing Queen" and some of the footage is just raw.

In the background of some of the footage you can hear drunken Londoners shouting "Boris is a wanker". (Boris Johnson is the mayor of London).

That's classy.

I wonder what Bridget Jones would say about this?

Anyway, so if you were planning a trip abroad this summer, just remember, leave you liquor back at the hotel, as you can't consume in the tunnel.

Sex and the City . . . Not So Much???

I read somewhere that the Sex and the City Movie, which was the number one grossing movie its premiere weekend, has an audience of 85 percent women.

Why is this surprising?

What surprises me is how passionately men feel about:

a. Not seeing this movie

b. Sarah Jessica Parker being positively unattractive

Actually, I get A. It was a television show geared to women; why would the movie be any different? Karen, who saw all of two episodes during the entire run of the series, isn't planning on seeing the movie because she never identified with the characters.

"It's like the seventies came back and bought expensive shoes," Karen pointed out, regarding the promiscuity.

Operation Rush Limbaugh
OK, I'm working on the email.

Does anyone have Mr. Limbaugh's address?

When it's finished I'll be sure to let you see it.

Enough about other people who really don't matter-- I want to talk about me

Karen is almost done with the house-- finally.

This has been very uncomfortable for me, by the way. First of all, she's packed up a lot of our stuff. Second, she keeps moving the cat box around the house, so it doesn't "mess up" the part of the house she considers "finished". So basically, when I have to go, I have to hunt down the box. Since the carpet guy is coming Saturday morning, she decided that Sadie and I needed to stay at her parent's house.

I am so put out.

So here I am like a refugee in the home of Karen's parents-- indefinitely. Karen will come and visit half of the time.

"So who will feed us?" I demanded from her before we left. "Who will take care of the box? Who will clean up the Sadie vomit?"

Karen promised her mom would feed us regularly. She also promised to see me at least every day or two and promised that she would clean the box and any vomit that may occur.

On the bright side, Karen's parent's house is four times the size of our old home. They also have lots of places to sunbathe and their bed is set up in a way so that when I crawl under it, Karen can't drag me out easily.

Karen told me that she expected me to "be nice and helpful" during my time visiting. This is obsurd, obviously. First of all, I've never been "nice" at Karen's parent's house. Why should I "be nice" now? It would confuse them. Furthermore, Karen's parents don't want my help any more than I'm willing to offer it. They should be greatful that I'm honoring them with my presence. I'm sure their life will be much more enlightened now that I'm staying with them.

A Request from Karen
Several months ago, Karen read about a saint you were supposed to bury in the yard for good luck when selling the house. Which saint was it? Where can she get one?

Operation Rush Limbaugh: We Shall Perservere

2008-06-07T22:58:00.006-05:00

OK, so this is what happened Friday:

6 am: I woke Karen up and told her that today was the day. She turned over and told me that Rush Limbaugh wasn't at all interested in hearing from anyone at six in the morning.

7:30 am: Karen is up and around and dressed. I again reminded her of what needed to happen. She told me if I mentioned this again before nine, she would go to the mall and not come back until three.

9 am: I gave Karen my well thought out plan: she would start calling at ten-- an hour before the show begins-- and she would tell him that she was calling for me, Penelope the Cat, and that I wanted to thank him for bringing so many readers to the blog. I also told her to SAY the web address on the air as well. Then I mentioned that she should suggest being his honorary mistress in Texas.

That might of been a mistake.

9:05 am: Karen told me that all bets were off, as she was not property to give away to a conservative radio host (Karen can be so haughty sometimes).

9:20 am: I told her she didn't have to suggest mistressdome if she got the blog address on the air.

9:21 am: She agreed to call

9:55 am: Karen began calling

10:03 am: Karen continued calling.

10:10 am: Karen continued calling

10:15 am: Karen began to get testy. She told me this needed to be much simpler.

10:20 am: Karen went to the bathroom (much to my dismay). She continued to call.

10:23 am: Karen took a "break" from calling. This break included reading part of the new David Sedaris book and loosing my place.

11:00 am: We began listening to Mr. Limbaugh's show. This didn't last long, as when he said "skewl teachers" it kind of pissed off Karen. Oh you should have heard her:

"Skewl teacher my ass. I give him one day at my job and he'd drown. How dare he use such an insulting pretentious tone," she said, once again waving her hands all around.

At this point the calling stopped.

But for some weird reason, Karen continued to listen.

And then was the song.

Mr. Limbaugh featured the song "How to Handle a Woman". This wasn't good. I'm not even going to repeat what Karen said here, as I don't want to upset Mr. Limbaugh.

So basically, I think Operation Rush Limbaugh will have to change forms. I think I might send him an email instead (when I do I'll publish it for you), as I just don't think Karen will spend another Friday attempting to make those calls. Besides, even if she did, I don't think anything positive will come of it.

Anyway. . .

In Other News:

I heard about this on Wait Wait Don't Tell Me. And again, I could not make this up:

http://www.youvebeenleftbehind.com/

This is an Internet service that will, for forty smackers, leave messages for your loved ones who are not taken "first round", so to speak, a la Left Behind style. Basically they have like six people they feel won't be left behind and if these guys don't log into the system for six days straight the emails start going out.

There are so many complicated issues to be discussed about this little scam, theologically, spiritually, ETHICALLY, etc. But mainly in my circle this just provoked a conversation about souls.

Basically, the debate was not "do all dogs go to heaven" or "do all cats go to heaven"? No, the debate was "does Penelope go to heaven"?

Being that I am a cat and have no schooling in Christian theology, I haven't given this much thought. I would assume however, being that I am Penelope the Cat, I would gain entrance to whatever establishment crosses my path.

Karen said that she could not find any evidence about pets in heaven or not. She was not willing to commit to the idea that all animals have souls, but she did say that "her pets do".

Isn't that sweet? And this was right after I jumped out of a cabinet and tried to kill her.

Karen's mom said outright that she didn't think I was going to heaven. Basically she cited my "behavioral issues".

Evil Jeff not only said that I wasn't getting into heaven, but he also thought I would be guarding the gates of Hell.

Oh what does he even know?

Updates on Operation Rush Limbaugh

2008-06-06T09:36:00.005-05:00

Karen told me that if she could find Mr. Limbaugh's number and if I would stop driving her crazy she would consider calling Mr. Limbaugh today. This meant no fighting with Sadie.

Anyway, check your local radio listings. Limbaugh plays in Houston 11-2. I'm assuming one adjusts this to meet the time zones.

I've given a list of things I want her to say. Anyway . . . those are our morning plans.

Tune in, dear readers, tune in. . .

Rush Limbaugh Engulfed in Flames

2008-06-04T00:40:00.006-05:00

Dear Canadians:

Yesterday, during a moment of delusion from the heat, I mentioned that Canadians suck. Right now, yes, you Canadians suck. This doesn't me I don't love you, but right now I am freaking hot and well, it is what it is. I am currently sitting in front of the refrigerator waiting for Karen to wander into the kitchen and open the door, so that I can hop inside briefly, or for her to drop a piece of ice onto the floor for my enjoyment.

Granted, I don't go outside. But still it's freaking hot. You guys suck for the next nine months, or until you are knee deep in the misery of snow.

Whichever comes first.

Anyway . . .

Karen is mean.

In our home, we have three pools of water which are constantly full and cold. Karen was working on one of them this afternoon and still would not let me drink out of it. She said that drinking from the device she calls a "toilet" is disgusting. When finished she put the lid down, like always.

It simply isn't fair.

Anyway . . .

Flipping Out

OK, Bravo has this "reality" show about a house flipper who I'm guessing is a tad OCD. That isn't a big deal-- I would think that OCD and house flipping would be complementary. But, oh it gets so much better:

The dude is mean. He's got a crew of assistants who spend most of their time freaking out about being fired, which he's known to do very randomly. He also hires them back a few days later.

Tell me this: what's the point? If you are going fire someone, it's a lot of trouble to hire them back. Lord, if I wanted that kind of drama, I'd fire Karen three times a day.

Anyway, the show is called Flipping Out. Catch it, as it's totally great.

A Funny Thing Happened at Super Target
Have you bought chicken recently?

Karen picked up a package of chicken which read "family farm raised". This struck Karen funny. So basically, the chickens have a lovely family home, that is, until said chicken is decapitated.

Karen mentioned this to the lady behind the chicken counter. She told Karen that she personally buys the free range chicken, since family farm chickens are kept in pens before decapitation, as opposed to the free rangers who get to roam the earth before their decapitation.

How lovely.

I asked Karen about her feelings regarding chickens. Her response was that chickens are called foul for a reason. As long as said chickens weren't pooping on the front porch, she really didn't care.

She did purchase the free rangers, though.

When You are Engulfed in Flames
David Sedaris' new book came out yesterday. I've read the first two essays. So far, it's a riot. I'll let you know more as I get further.

Sedaris was on The Daily Show yesterday. Catch on the repeat.

Operation Rush Limbaugh
OK, we've got more news:

Karen's class didn't make as of today. This means unless they dig up five kids for English, she is free for the summer.

Karen, despite really wanting a new refrigerator, would prefer that five kids not be found for summer school. It's worth 2,000 bucks not to work so she can chill out and drink margaritas in the backyard.

That is, except it's too freaking hot to go outside.

Anyway . . .

If Karen is free, I can't see any reason why she shouldn't spend Friday taking care of Operation Limbaugh. I've mentioned this once again to her. She told me "we'll see", which is better than the "hell no" I expected.

Still haven't mentioned the honorary mistress thing. Once again, we're taking it one step at a time.

I'll be able to give you official notification tomorrow.

So as of now, keep you midday open.

Schools Out for Summer, but not for Rush Limbaugh

2008-06-02T19:36:00.011-05:00

It's Official

I'm sick and tired of politics.

HillBilly will continue or not. Period. Either way, we don't need to hear day long speculation.

Karen is also boycotting The View, as they spent like FOREVER talking about this and gave Colin Firth all of five minutes.

You don't shorten the Firth's time. That is, unless you want to hear about it from Karen.

Interesting fact: Firth has FIVE movies coming out this summer. Karen is in heaven.

It's Official Again

Karen got a three digit reading on her car thermometer yesterday.

Summer has begun.

Canadians suck.

My Novel About School Teachers

If I ever write a book about teachers, I would include one of the following:

1. Teachers desperately wanting to check out and go home and administrators desperately wanting them to stay until three.

or

2. Administrators desperately wanting to leave and teachers not ready to check out after five minutes of arriving in the building.

Either is pretty funny.

This concept is inspired by Karen, a decade plus veteran of public schools. She's been in three educational settings and this issue has been a small annoyance each year.

Small in that how mad can you be? IT'S THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL!!!

One school let you leave whenever you finished checking out. You got the checkout sheet like a week ahead of time, so you could do some of it early. If you weren't done by ten, someone was out looking for you, tapping their foot impatiently.

Although technically, you had until four.

Another school had a big assembly at eight, which lasted until about tenish (announcing retirees, teachers of the year and such), a breakfast shortly following, and then you got the check out sheets.

And the administrators disappeared

And reappeared for five minutes

And disappeared again

And reappeared for ten minutes

And went to lunch

And the principal wouldn't do the final sign off until three.

I asked Karen which was worse. According to her, although she really wanted to be home by noon, she'd rather spend a few more hours at work than to have someone breathing down her neck being all impatient, as that person booked a flight she should have scheduled later than noon on a workday.

Hypothetically speaking, of course

Other Funny Things About Teachers:

Elementary teachers, as a whole, are perky. At the assemblies announcing important things that happened during the year at individual schools, they do one of the following when anything related to their school is announced:

A. Whoop

B. Stand up and shout

C. Bring instruments, such as cowbells, and use them LOUDLY

They also have a tendency to match.

Karen said it takes too much energy to be an elementary teacher. She says that if she wrote a book about elementary school teachers she'd have someone sampling the Ritalin.

High school teachers are a little more dry. Some of them cross the line from dry to sarcastic. Some of them cross the line from sarcastic to bitter.

Many of them want to jump the elementary school teacher, who just ingested three cups of Starbucks, ringing that wretched cowbell.

Some of them are just plain crazy.

Speaking of just plain crazy, someone, sitting in that assembly, is hungover, at least in my book.

Someone has a deep seeded hatred towards the newly named teacher of the year. It could be for a number of reasons, it really doesn't matter. But the great part comes when the name is read you can vaguely hear that person, five or six rows back, say, over the cowbells and thunderous claps:

"Oh, HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL no."

At least in my book.

NOTE: None of these things happened this year to Karen. In all honesty, according to her it was a fairly tame end-of-the-year check out. She was even home well before three. Some of these things have happened in the past, not exactly in the shape or form I presented them. Some of these things were modified from past events in the to protect the idiots who behave like asses FREQUENTLY. But all events have some grain of truth, as relayed from Karen.

Update on Operation Rush Limbaugh
I'm still working on Karen. Now she's saying she might be teaching summer school. Since she doesn't get out of summer school until 12:30, calling Mr. Limbaugh becomes an impossibility.

I told her to blow off summer school.

She told me she wanted to buy a new refrigerator and summer school is easy money (7:30- 12:30 five days a week 25 bucks an hour-- you do the math).

Whatever

Summer school ends sometime before the fourth of July. We might have to delay operation Rush Limbaugh until then.

However . . .

We're getting a lot of hits out of South Palm Beach. I KNOW that Mr. Limbaugh is reading this. He needs to cut us a break. Other celebrities get breaks. They don't have to ask their assistants to sit on hold for hours on end. He needs to give us his PRIVATE number and allow us the luxury to call in at our leisure.

I still haven't mentioned the mistress thing. I figure one thing at a time.

I'll get back with you tomorrow

Go 'Stros

Operation Rush Limbaugh

2008-05-30T21:32:00.003-05:00

OK, I've got a plan.

Karen's last day of work is Monday. Since she doesn't have anything better to do, I have a task for her.

We shall call it Operation Rush Limbaugh.

Here is the plan:

Since I started dropping Mr. Limbaugh's name in my headlines, I've gain almost a third more blog hits daily. Many of these are even returning fairly regularly.

I have not found any rhyme or reason for this, by the way.

Whatever, I want Karen to call into his radio show next Friday to thank him for bringing us such an increase of readership.

"So basically you expect me to sit on the phone all afternoon so that I can wait on hold to thank Rush Limbaugh?" she asked me.

Well, yes, and there's more. . .

"You want me to THANK Rush Limbaugh?" Karen asked again, not wanting to hear anything more. "I don't see that I have any reason in my life to thank Rush Limbaugh."

This is why I need a new assistant. I ask Karen, who won't have anything better to do next week, to perform such a simple task. And now she's mocking me.

I didn't even get to the part about suggesting that she be his honorary mistress in Texas.

"Excuse me?" I can hear her saying all haughty. "I'm not even dignifying that suggestion with a response."

Anyway, I'm working on Karen. In the meantime, keep your midday calendars open come Friday. I expect all of you guys to listen.

Go 'Stros.

Rush Limbaugh is a Spirit in the Material World

2008-05-21T20:21:00.011-05:00

It's been quite a busy week.

Let me recap for you:

Saturday: Sadie, Karen, and I went to her parent's house to celebrate our collective birthdays (Karen and I have May birthdays and Sadie's is in late April).

I appreciate the party and all, but why do I have to share a celebration with Karen and Sadie? Don't they know I'm a celebrity? We should be flying out to New York for dinner at 21. Barbara Walters would come, I'm sure.

Interesting little fact: I'm getting blog hits out of Palm Beach, Florida. Because of this, I am assuming that Rush Limbaugh is regularly reading the blog. Thus, I bet he'd come to my birthday party.

Evil Jeff brought his small one to the party. This isn't that big of a deal except the small one saw me and started making loud, overstimulated noises. She slithered towards me, excited and squealing, and wouldn't stop, despite my hissing and glaring looks.

Karen trapped Sadie and held her so that Sofie could see her. Sadie told me later that this was the scariest moment of her life next to her kitten hood memories of living under the deck in the home inhabited by the unnuetered daschund.

I'll admit it. I was scared. She wouldn't respond to hissing. In fact, she started mocking my hissing as she moved closer. Plus that kid outweighs me by ten pounds easy. And she moves really fast now. That is my issue with the small ones: eventually they begin to move and become predatory.

Anyway, Karen's mom bought Sadie and me this climbing thing. It's pretty cool. Of course, I merely sniffed it in her presence, but it is pretty cool.

Sunday:
Sunday was Karen's birthday. We celebrated by watching TV all afternoon.

Someone suggested that I clean out the liter box for Karen on her birthday. This is a ridiculous idea. If I start performing such menial household tasks, then Karen might develop a sense of entitlement and misunderstand her place in the universe.

We really don't want that, do we???

Monday:
Nothing particularly monumental here. Karen left for work. Sadie and I chilled at the house all day. Karen came home from work and did some laundry, took out the trash, and cleaned our liter box (not necessarily in that order).

Tuesday:
Karen saw The Police reunion concert last night at Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavilion. She's been talking about it since she got home at one this morning.

We here at I Don't Pretend to be an Ordinary Cat, love The Police. They rock. Karen said it was amazing sitting in an audience that large when everyone knew all the words to all the songs.

On a much sadder note, Hamilton Jordan, the man behind the Jimmy Carter presidential campaign, died Tuesday. He was 63. With the exception of Face the Nation, all of the news carriers got it wrong. Yes, he was the youngest chief of staff ever and masterminded the 1976 election of the unknown peanut farmer when he was merely 32 (two years younger than Karen is now). But he fought off six forms of cancer and dedicated most of his adult life to children with cancer. Amazingly enough, I only heard this fact mentioned by Bob Schiffer.

Anyway . . .

Wednesday:
Karen went to work on three hours sleep. Sadie and I sunbathed in the kitchen.

Over the weekend, Karen bought 1000 thread count sheets at Linens n Things for like 85 percent off the original price. Finally, she put them on the bed. The sheets are freakin fabulous. The problem is now that Karen is having trouble getting out of bed, which becomes a problem for me, as I don't particularly want her there in the first place.

Thursday:
Karen came home from work, sat down on my bed, and fell asleep. She woke up the next morning at five, still in her work clothes from the day before. Pretty freaky, right???

Friday:
Karen left for work, in shock that she woke up in work clothes. Sadie and I fought over a stray kitty treat we found on the floor of the dining room.

And that pretty much catches us up to date.

Have a lovely Memorial Day.

Go 'Stros

Little Pig, Little Pig has nothing to do with Rush Limbaugh

2008-05-17T19:35:00.000-05:00

I have created a meme.

Yes, I, Penelope, the all knowing and ever so fabulous cat, created one of those wretched little games, which I so love playing.

Actually, this meme came from Karen. Actually, this isn't a meme at all, but merely an activity Karen saw in a workshop about a month ago. She thought it was fun so I'm passing it on to you, my readers of discriminating taste.

If you didn't know this already, Karen is a high school teacher. She attended a seminar referencing "choice theory", a concept in which students are given options for assignments. In theory, if the student gets to "choose" what they do, then they are more likely to do it.

Makes sense.

But that really isn't important to us. This is the meme:

Listed below are four assignments. You choose one and complete it on your blog. For our purposes we are using the children's tale: The Three Little Pigs.

Assignment One:
You are an insurance adjuster. You are writing a letter to the pigs in regards to their policy not covering "wolf breath".

Assignment Two:
You are Mrs. Pig (mom of the three little pigs). You are emailing your husband regarding the fact that the three pigs have returned home, due to the fact that their homes have been destroyed.

Assignment Three:
You are the wolf. You are writing an apology letter to the pigs regarding the destruction of their homes.

Assignment Four:
You are a local city councilman. You are giving a speech, advocating removal of all wolves from "Pigville".

Anyway, after looking over these options I like assignment three.

Dear Pigs,

As part of my recovery, it is time I make amends for my wrong doings, which is the purpose of this letter. Today, pig friends, I am begging your forgiveness.

I wish I had a good excuse for my behavior that night. I was out with Prince Charming and we were trying to impress these really hot princesses. Well, all of us had a few too many and the next thing I knew I was bragging about how I could blow down the houses on pig row. Ole Charming kept goading me (you know how he is-- such a frat boy), and I couldn't back down. I got the house of straw-- easy-- barely winded myself. The girls were cheering and a crowd of people from the bar heard the commotion and gathered to watch. They were chanting my name, "Wolf. Wolf. Wolf . . ."

So then, of course I couldn't stop. Once you've experienced the drunken glory of the inebriated hot chicks of fairy tale land shouting your name, jumping up and down with glee, bouncing . . .

But I digress.

The crowd followed me as I headed next door to the house made of sticks. In the midst of the shouting and screaming I once again huffed and puffed and low and behold the house of sticks came crashing down like a house of cards. With that, two of you pigs come running down the street squealing with fear like something out of Deliverance. (Enough similes for you???)

Again, the crowd behind me screamed my name-- louder than before. I was pretty winded this time, so Jack (as in Beanstalk) brought me another beer. Charming, persuasive as ever, convinced me to go for the gusto.

Gusto being the brick house.

"Come on," he said to me, his arm around Cindy, as in rella. "You know you can do it. It's just bricks. Besides those pigs don't know squat about bricklaying. I bet we can knock it over with no more than a puff."

Since you all know Charming, I'm sure it is obvious that "we" in this scenario means "me".

With the support of the crowd I huffed and I puffed and nothing happened. So I tried again. Nada. Everyone stood silent. I tried again. Still the brick house stood like, well, a brick house.

The silence was both palpable and awkward as hell. Snow, as in White, brought me another beer. God love Snow, she's got a heart of gold. Lets face it: by this point I was pretty 'faced. And as we all know, I'm not a happy drunk.

I was pissed.

Pissed at the house that wouldn't fall down.

Pissed at you pigs who wouldn't stop laughing from inside that brick house.

Anyway, Charming was back at the bar, now hanging out with Goldy, as in Locks. (It was getting close to midnight-- I'm guessing Cindy had to split.) I wanted to go home, but well, you know Charming.

So I got another beer and soon Beauty came over. One thing lead to another and the next thing I know ole Beauty was talking about some party back at the castle. Then a shadow was cast over us in the darkness of the bar.

It was the Beast.

Holy Crap.

I can't stand Beast. He's moody. And you know what, if you're going to get involved with a tramp like Beauty, you should at least have a sense of humor about her shenanigans.

Anyway, so the ridiculous Beast was all questioning me about who I was and what we were talking about in that brooding deep voice. He is such a baby.

If it weren't for the fact that Beast is like twenty times bigger than I am, I'd lay him out fast. However, he is and I'm a realist, so I just excused myself to the john. Since I didn't want to deal with that thug of a creature, my inebriated self decided it was wise to climb out of the bathroom window.

Due to my tendencies towards excess, I kind of got stuck in the window. So once again I huffed and I puffed, and well I was stuck. And it freaking hurt. After some squirming, I finally fell head first out of the window and onto the concrete parking lot.

So there I was, lying underneath the bathroom window, wondering about what the heck I was doing. It was then I decided to go the path of the straight and narrow. I checked into Promises, got a room with with "the Hoff", which brings us to today: me sitting at step nine.

Anyway, I'm sorry about trashing your houses. It was wrong. I'd say come over and we could chat about the old days over pork chops but that seems tacky. So hang loose, little piggies, and please consider upgrading your standards on building products so such things don't happen in the future.

I gotta go. I'm supposed to have dinner with Little Red Riding Hood tonight. I really hope she doesn't bring Grandma . . .

The Wolf

So that is my story for today. I hope you enjoyed it. I've seen some pretty creative minds out there (Shife, Travis . . . to name but a few). Take a gander at it-- it's kind of fun.

Karen's Mom is not Rush Limbaugh

2008-05-10T14:48:00.009-05:00

As most of you are probably aware, this is my 100th post.

Is that not exciting or what?

Anyway, Karen suggested since this is mother's day weekend I should write about her mom.

Now explain to me why I would want to spend my 100th post writing about Karen's mom?

"Because it would be a nice thing to do," Karen said. "Plus it might score you some points with her after that little attempt on her life last month."

First of all, since I am a cat, I'm not into "scoring some points". She should think of me like those Vogue interns consider Anna Wintour: complete and total fear.

"But she's nice to you," Karen told me. "She feeds you when you come over to visit. She buys you treats and toys at Christmas. You even have a stocking."

Big deal. She also has a fit if she find me on the kitchen counters. I once took a nap in a mixing bowl inside a kitchen cabinet and she started freaking out. (Mixing bowls were made for naps-- why isn't she aware of this?) In the morning she expects me to get out of the recliner so that she can sit and read the paper. She won't even let me sit on the newspaper. What makes it worse is that she's too chicken to deal with me herself. Oh no, Karen's mom is a tattler.

"Karen can you get your cat out of my chair?" she asks. "She won't jump out."

So Karen moves me out of the recliner and onto the couch. In the process, I usually glare at Karen's mom.

A couple of years ago, Karen went out of town and left Sadie and I with her parents. Since Karen's parent's house was under construction and the entire back was open to the world, Karen locked us upstairs in the master bedroom before she left. Sadie didn't care about this too much, as time spent at Karen's parents is mostly under a bed anyway.

Karen's mom opened the door when she got home from work and, of course, I walked out, as I didn't think it was appropriate for me to be confined to one room of the house. Karen's mom chased me down and grabbed me and then we got into a little bit of a wrestling match, which resulted in Karen's mom getting scratched.

That's the price you pay for confining me.

"That cat is mean," she told Karen. "Everyone is scared of her."

What's her point?

Anyway, happy Mother's Day to all the mothers out in cyberland. And, I guess, since Karen mentioned it, happy Mother's Day to Karen's mom as well, even if she won't let me sit on the newspaper in the morning.

Go 'Stros.

Rush Limbaugh: in the Midst of Chaos

2008-05-06T20:16:00.007-05:00

I actually have no intention of discussing anything about Rush Limbaugh. However, the post regarding Rush Limbaugh's cat Pumpkin gets like three times as many hits as anything else in the I Don't Pretend to be an Ordinary Cat archives. For this reason all of my next few entries will contain Rush Limbaugh's name in the title.

Pretty smart, right???

Today is Mike Wallace's birthday.

Wanna take a gander at his age???

Mike Wallace is freakin' 90.

Who wuda thunk it.

Anyway, we here at I Don't Pretend to be an Ordinary Cat would like to wish Mr. Wallace a happy birthday.

In fact we think today that CBS should spend all of prime time commemorating Wallace. However, probably CBS has other plans for Friday evening like game shows involving random guessing or twenty somethings eating worms.

To commemorate this event, I wanted to show you a Mike Wallace interview via YouTube, but guess what-- there are so freakin' many I didn't even know where to start. So go to YouTube and pick one out, as there are a plenty.

Go 'Stros

Achy Breaky Skanky

2008-05-02T17:14:00.014-05:00

I started this post on Thursday, planning on making a few mullet jokes. After some research and exploration, I changed my mind.

Statement regarding creepy photo before people started freaking out:

"Annie took, like, a beautiful shot, and I thought it was really cool. That’s what she wanted me to do, and you can’t say no to Annie . . . I think it’s really artsy. It wasn’t in a skanky way."
-- Miley Cyrus

And statement regarding creepy photo after people started freaking out:

"I took part in a photo shoot that was supposed to be 'artistic' and now, seeing the photographs and reading the story, I feel so embarrassed."
-- Miley Cyrus

Ole Miley doesn't get it: the portrait is artistic. Furthermore, this picture might be the most important statement Annie Leibovitz ever makes about our culture.

Look a little closer. The picture is basically in the style of a turn of the century European nudie postcard, typically featuring a child prostitute, one might pick up on the streets of Paris during that same time period.

Can you say IRONY?

Annie Leibovitz just made a statement about our culture, its infatuation with youth and celebrity and the willingness of some to sell their children for money. You might not like it, as it's an uncomfortable sight, but important messages are sometimes disconcerting.

Suddenly, Disney is making me nauseous in a way I would never expect.

Nothing good comes of selling your children for money. A myriad of what should be cautionary tales parade across our television sets hour after hour. But still, some of us aren't listening.

Disney, who produces Cyrus' television show, had a different take altogether:

"Unfortunately, as the article suggests, a situation was created to deliberately manipulate a 15-year-old in order to sell magazines."

Disney is whining about exploiting a child for money. Disney created many 21st century cautionary tales, in a complicated exploitation, all in the name of money.

I saw the picture. I've heard the arguments about art and subjects and sexuality and all that jazz. But I still think it comes down this:

Where the hell were her parents and why are they agreeing to photo shoots with Annie Leibovitz?

Granted, Leibovitz is a very relevant artists/ photographer. Her portraits hang in gallery exhibitions all over the world and are displayed as cover art on and in such magazines as Rolling Stone, Vogue, and Vanity Fair. Her recent photographs of the Queen of England were said to create a "regality no other recent royal portraitist has achieved".

But just as I wouldn't allow my child to be photographed by Robert Maplethorpe (if he were still alive) or painted by Lucian Freud unsupervised (if at all), under no circumstance would I agree to such with Leibovitz, who has also exploited Cyrus for her own agenda.

By the way, I am in no way comparing the works of Leibovitz to Maplethorpe or Freud for any other purpose other than to say she is a controversial artist as are they.

But what about the rest of us? I have five references alone to Britney Spears and a couple more to Lindsay Lohan. Am I adding fuel to the fire by freely and openly mocking them? What about those parents who cough up $500 bucks a pop for Hannah Montana tickets? "The Man" can't exploit these kids if we don't allow kids to be exploited.

Something to consider . . .

Don't Exploit the Hookers

2008-04-29T19:25:00.010-05:00

Weird Google Hits

I'm getting weird Google hits.

Two things are bringing people to my site:

1. Rush Limbaugh's Cat-- Why is this? Is there that much interest in Pumpkin and her human companion?

2. "I've doin' it with class 'cause I got a big ass"-- This makes more sense. Thankfully, the perverts aren't posting comments. I guess they're disappointed.

If you were to ask me which of my posts bring the most people to this site, these two would not be the ones.

Oh well . . .

Don't Exploit the Hookers

I've got a really important lesson for all of you out in cyberland.

Are you listening?

OK, here it is:

If you are hanging out, say, in a bar, and if you are, say, drunk, and if it just so happens that somehow or another you end up in a trailer somewhere, and somehow your clothes escape your body, and a dude with a camera turns up ready to take pictures, don't sign the release form.

Particularly if your future includes the governor of New York and prostitution.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/eonline/20080428/en_celeb_eo/feab74af183d_4f38_a427_8e334d009e96

Ms. Ashley Dupre, at the ripe old age of seventeen, showed her ta tas for Girls Gone Wild. The poor, mislead, inebriated teenager signed a release. The lovely young lady's complaint is that Girls Gone Wild "exploit(ed) (her) image and likeness for their own financial gain at the emotional and physical expense of Ms. Dupré".

So let me get this straight: the hooker, who was charging the Governor of New York big bucks for sex, is upset with Joe Francis exploiting her nakedness?

If Francis superimposed a bin Laden beard or a habit on our lovely lady, yeah I see that as exploiting her image, but I would assume that nakedness and hookers go hand in hand. It's not exactly a career choice which promotes modesty or poor body image.

Otherwise, she'd probably be an accountant, right?

I don't mean to defend Francis. He's scum of the earth, no doubt, and I'm thrilled for as much of his empire as possible to be wasted away by legal fees, but come on. If she signed a release, drunk or not, she signed a release.

It's not like Joe Francis is hiding in bathrooms, snapping pictures under the stalls.

Whatever

Go 'Stros

So Goes My Fabulous Self

2008-04-22T20:49:00.007-05:00

Probably you already know this.

Probably you have April 25th circled in red on your personal calendars and have already begun talking amongst yourselves about appropriate gifts. I'm guessing someone has reserved Bungalow Eight for a private party.

I'm assuming that we'll spend the evening drinking martinis and talking about how fabulous I am. I can't drink much though as I weigh a mere thirteen pounds.

Anyway, for those of you who are not so culturally aware, April 25th is my one year anniversary as a blogger. I've thought of all kinds of things to commemorate this monumental day; the drunken freakin' rednecks I'm sure will shoot off fireworks. (They've done it every night this week-- why would Friday be any different???)

President Bush will probably hold a press conference and mention that Friday is now Penelope the Cat day. I'm guessing Senators Clinton, McCain, and Obama will drop my name in campaign speeches as well.

What shall they say???

Well, I'm not going to tell you what they will say. You should just watch CNN to find out, as I can't imagine they won't cover it.

Karen told me not to hold my breath. But she isn't as culturally astute as the rest of us.

So Friday, you should tell your friends to celebrate Penelope the Cat day by, well, doing what I would do:

1. Nap
Napping is very important, you know. Doing my job requires a lot of energy, so I must sleep at least eighteen hours a day.

2. Groom

I must look ever so fabulous, so about one of my three waking hours is spent in hair and make up (mainly hair).

3. Eat

A gals got to eat. I just wish I could get a hold of that chicken in the fridge.

4. Chase Sadie (or any other run of the mill pion willing to be chased)

Sadie is such an easy target. It's just too easy . . .

5. Sit on Karen's face (again, or any run of the mill pion)
I have needs. If my needs aren't met, I have to get testy. Time is not my concern; Karen needs to take care of her job, even if it's two in the morning when I run out of food.

6. Blog

How would you people know what to do if it weren't for my blog? You probably would be voting for actors and rednecks and Lady Macbeth and confused Baptist ministers and ambulance chasers and lawyers and . . .

Whoops

Well, keep reading. You clearly need guidance.

7. Read a book.
Right now I'm reading Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse- Five in honor of my good friend Billy Pilgrim (kind of). I love Vonnegut-- his writing is so simple yet so profound.

Anyway, it's been a lovely year. I've made many a fabulous blog friend, which is great since my social life pretty much consists of Karen and Sadie, with the occasional trips to Karen's parents and a semi regular confrontation with the evil Jeff.

I love you all.

Go 'Stros

I am Uplifted

2008-04-09T18:17:00.005-05:00

Have you missed me???

We've been quite busy as of late. Karen is obsessively working on the house so we can get it on the market soon, as in the end of the month. It's been wild; paint dripped on me when I took a nap underneath the step ladder.

Karen should be neater.

What else can I tell you . . .

I've been reading Karen's emails lately and something has been bugging me: those cutesy little quotes that are supposed to be uplifting and inspiring. We here at "I don't pretend to be an ordinary cat" are neither uplifting or inspiring, even on a good day.

I prefer snide and cynical.

Anyway, Karen and I were discussing this the other day and she agrees with me as well. According to her, it would be more entertaining to have something wildly inappropriate, just to see if anyone would notice.

Interesting

Thus, may I present to you:

Quotes I would put at the bottom of my email at work if . . .

A. I had a job.

B. I didn't care much about keeping said job.

C. I wasn't concerned about being sued.

"Scandal is gossip made tedious by morality." -- Oscar Wilde

"Any war that requires the suspension of reason as a necessity for support is a bad war." -- Norman Mailer

"A little bad taste is like a nice dash of paprika." -- Dorthy Parker

"In religion and politics, people's beliefs and convictions are in almost every case gotten at second hand, and without examination." -- Mark Twain

"Does it really matter what those affectionate people do-- so long as they don't do it in the streets and frighten the horses!" -- Mrs. Patrick Campbell

"Don't stay in bed, unless you can make money in bed." -- George Burns

"Here's a tip for you: The next time you have the world by the balls, don't twist them." -- Drew Carey

"Sex is the most beautiful, natural, wholesome things that money can buy." -- Steve Martin

Go 'Stros

What's in a name???

2008-03-22T21:58:00.009-05:00

I know I haven't been around much lately. I hope all is going well with you. It's been a busy week with napping and grooming. Karen has been cleaning out closets and working on a myriad of projects at home to make our house quite "buyer friendly".

I've been meaning to tell you guys about this for months. It's totally awesome:

In the 23rd U.S. Congressional District, better knows as Tom Delay's old stomping ground, ten Republicans candidates are vying for the opportunity to run against Democrat Nick Lampson in the November election.

This is not particularly newsworthy, as a kajillion other congressional districts across the United States are in the same position. However, the 23rd has one really cool candidate:

(Excuse the picture quality-- I had Karen take this picture using her cell phone in the rain. It's a bumper sticker on the back of a car parked outside Barnes and Noble.)

I have nothing against Mr. Manlove. I've never heard an inkling of anything good or bad about him (he used to be the mayor of a neighboring city near Karen's parents). However, he's running for congress with a last name that is instant fodder for The Daily Show.

Yes, I am aware of how adolescent it is for me to find this so funny. "Manlove" is a perfectly reasonable last name. I should accept Manlove and embrace him as a successful politician and businessman.

I can't help it; Manlove rocks.

If Mr. Manlove wins, he better steer clear of any and all scandals. Spitzer was bad enough. Can you imagine the same scenario with "Manlove"???

Can you imagine any scenario with Manlove in which headlines wouldn't be awesome?

If I keep saying "Manlove" do you think my Google hit number with make a significant jump???

Whatever

Other Issues:

Operation Chaos:

Is this real?

What is the point?

Should I be offended by this? I'm not-- truthfully, I think it's one of the funnier things I've heard in a while. Does that make me a horrible cat?

If Rush Limbaugh goes to jail for election tampering, inciting a riot, contributing to the delinquency of minors, insider trading, or anything else, I'd like to be his replacement on the radio. You, my readers, are in charge of taking care of this. Start making those phone calls.

Crazy Ministers

Anyone want to lay bets as to who released the tape?

I'm bored of this story. But I'm seeing no one making an attempt to trace the origin of the tape, which to me is far more interesting.

Once again, the idiot yahoo members of the media are totally getting it wrong.

Whatever

Karen is a TOOL

For many years, we've prided ourselves in the fact that we do not watch American Idol. Well, Karen did Wednesday night (was that Wednesday-- maybe it was Tuesday-- whatever).

At least we don't watch America's Next Top Model.

We do occasionally catch Meet the Kardashians though.

OK, we're just like every other crap for brains American. Get over it.

But that's not the point.

Anyway, one of the contestants sang Karen's favorite Police song: Every Breath You Take. This is fine except the singer totally didn't get the song. She got the beauty of it and the concept of consuming, overwhelming, I can't live without you, love. What she didn't get was this song is also about a freakin' stalker.

It's interesting how that song becomes lame without the haunting element. Ole Sting totally knows what he's doing.

If you'd like to go back to 1983, here's a link to the music video, from a time when Music Television was actually Music Television.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnejNGprm3I

Otherwise, I'm outa here. We got the end of preseason baseball to watch.

Go 'Stros

If You Don't Go to Class . . .

2008-03-18T18:28:00.009-05:00

OK, I know I told you guys that I wouldn't speak anymore of this soap opera out of Albany, but I couldn't help myself today:

http://www.nydailynews.com/news/2008/03/18/2008-03-18_gov_david_paterson_admits_to_numerous_af.html?ref=rss

New Yorkers: Can you Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaase elect someone, anyone, who can stay off The Daily Show for 24 hours after taking office?

But that's beside the point . . .

Politicians are always saying how hard they work for you, the taxpaying yahoos of the world. They spend all these long hours making our world a better place blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. . .

My question is this: if they are sooooooooo busy working for the "common man", how do they find the time to, how shall I put it, DIDDLE OTHERS WHO ARE NOT LEGALLY/ SOCIALLY OBLIGATED TO DIDDLE THEM???

Are these elected officials just really high energy? Or is this working eighteen hour days thing just a myth?

Just 48 hours ago I was planning on writing this nice little uplifting piece about Paterson and how wonderful it is that a man who for all intents and purposes is blind could overcome and achieve a law degree and a high ranking political position.

Thank goodness I took the low road and created an awesome episode of Masterass Theater.

And more to contribute to my jadedness . . .

Karen's friend Jenny sent her this link. Since I read Karen's email (don't tell her-- I just change everything back to "new" and she's totally clueless), I thought you guys would be interested in this as well:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eG6X-xtVask

Perhaps if congressional representatives would, I don't know, SHOW UP, they could actually VOTE. Don't give me that crap about pee breaks. Teachers have learned survive the majority of a day without leaving a room full of goofy sixteen-year-old unattended-- I can't imagine that congress people have it any worse off. From what I see, both nationally and in Texas, the issue is not pee breaks-- it's truancy.

I challenge you to look up your state and national congressional representatives. You will be shocked to find out their attendance records.

These yahoos don't show up to work.

To get a pee break one should show up to work don'tcha think???

Granted, I can't stand the state congressional representatives in my neck of the woods. Karen wrote them two letters and received two preachy responses in return (both probably written by interns-- whatever). But nevertheless, the constituents of redneck Hell did elect them, so they damn well better be showing up and voting.

And if they don't???

I don't know-- it's not like I can vote. And even if I could vote, apparently I'm outnumbered by rednecks.

Whatever

I was a 22-year-old Sex Worker

2008-03-16T09:58:00.007-05:00

I need to explain my headline.

No, I was never a 22-year-old sex worker. First of all, I'm a cat and the word "worker" really should not be associated with our species, as it just isn't accurate. Furthermore, I'm not yet seven. Also, I've been spade since before I was a year (thank you, Karen-- you'll get yours when I succeed in my efforts towards world domination).

I'm mainly using this headline in hopes to get more Google hits. Pretty smart, right???

I know I've been gone for over a week. It's a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions, I am quite aware. But once again, I'm a cat and between the grooming and napping I've just been quite busy.

Alas, I know you guys miss me tremendously and wait with baited breath for my observations and guidance in your daily life. For this reason, I am adding a new feature to the blog:

Dear Penelope

Anyway, if you have a serious issues in which you need sophisticated guidance, send me an email (penelopeandsadie@aol.com) and I will address it in the blog at some point.

And yes, I will protect you anonymity and give you a nickname. No, you don't get to choose it. I do, as this is my blog and as I've said before I will do whatever I damn well please here.

Anyway . . .

My staff and I have been quite occupied with the Eliot Spitzer drama, which I'm sure is not particularly surprising to anyone. We've also been trying to figure out a way to address it as well.

We've decided the best thing to do was to have another episode of . . .

Masterass Theater

The 24- Hour News Station

Scene: Staff meeting at a 24 hour news station.

JACK ISHOULDN'THAVESMOKEDSOMUCHINTHESEVENTIES, NEWS EDITOR: OK, so how are we going to cover this Spitzer press conference?

STUART IWANNAGOBACKTONPR, REPORTER: We've got seats six and seven on row three.

JACK: Great

TIM GOODHAIR, ANCHOR: I'm going to interview a law professor from Columbia directly thereafter regarding analysis.

JACK: Sounds good. Anything else?

STEVE SENDMEBACKTOIRAQ, Reporter: We're going to follow Spitzer's car from where he's staying tonight to the press conference. Tim and I are going to go back and forth regarding what I'm seeing.

JACK: (beginning to look confused) And what do you think you'll see?

STEVE: (screaming-- waving his arms all around) Man, you don't know what we'll see. He could be tire bombed right on Fifth Avenue. If we don't follow we'll miss the story--

JACK: OK, OK, so you're following Spitzer's car. Fine, is that it?

GINGER AGINGFORMERMISSAMERICA, ANCHOR: And I'm going to analyze Mrs. Spitzer's wardrobe, with help from Michael Kohrs.

JACK: (pulling a cigarette package from his coat pocket) What?

BRAD I'DRATHERBEWORKINGFORFREEONTHEVIEW, INTERN: The guys upstairs are concerned we aren't meeting the needs of the viewers who accidentally hit our station when meaning to watch E!. They want us to keep them.

JACK: Well then, by all means, let's definitely keep those E! viewers. Let's be nice though, OK?

GINGER: Of course

JACK: Anything else?

CINDY LOSTINROUNDTWOONAMERICANIDOLGOTIMPLANTSBECAME"METEOROLOGIST": I'm interviewing three sex workers from a call girl service.

JACK: (pulling cigarette out of package, looking for lighter) What? Since when do we have hookers on the morning news?

CINDY: (slightly indignant) They aren't "hookers". They're sex workers.

JACK: (desperately looking for his lighter in coat pocket) What's the difference?

CINDY: It isn't PC to say "hooker".

JACK: (complexion slightly flushed-- still looking desperately for lighter-- now in pants pocket) OK, so now we're going to interview SEX WORKERS. And what should we be asking these SEX WORKERS.

BRAD: (handing Jack a box of nicotine gum) You can't smoke in here.

(Jack glares at Brad and places cigarette back in pack and back in coat pocket.)

CINDY: (leaning across the table towards Jack, exposing a great deal of cleavage) I'm taking them to the Mayflower. We're going to sit in the very room that Spitzer used and discuss their plight.

JACK: (slightly distracted by cleavage) What is their plight?

GINGER: (under her breath) That Cindy doesn't get more air time to wear shorter skirts.

CINDY: Excuse me?

GINGER: What?

CINDY: What did you say?

GINGER: (chin rises slightly) I just don't see the validity of taking a group of common prostitutes to a hotel which charges upwards of a $1,000 a night. What purpose does it serve?

CINDY: What purpose does it serve to spend news minutes on the suit choices of the virtually unknown governor's wife?

JACK: (popping a piece of nicotine gum into his mouth) OK LADIES, let's stay on topic. Cindy, keep your story brief and appropriate and make sure everyone is dressed for morning news. Do you understand what I mean?

(Ginger snorts. Both Cindy and Jack glare at her.)

CINDY: Of course

JACK: (taking a swig of coffee) Anything else?

RYAN THISISWHYIPLAYEDBASEBALLANDDIDN'TRUNFORGOVERNOR, Sports Anchor: We've got a segment in sports in which I'm interviewing a madam-- uh, sex worker supervisor.

JACK: (reaching for cigarettes-- pulls out a flask instead) Why, in sports, are we interviewing a madam?

CINDY: Sex worker supervisor

JACK: Sex worker supervisor

RYAN: We're doing a story regarding the athleticism required by sex workers and the injuries they suffer. (Jack pours substance from flask in coffee.)

JACK: (taking a swig of coffee) I'm not sure it'll get past the censors.

RYAN: That's what I thought. But evidently, the sex workers have kind of an informal union--

JACK: Hold on. The hookers can't be unionized. It's an illegal profession.

RYAN: That's why it's an informal union.

JACK: An informal union?

RYAN: An informal union

JACK: So you're telling me that since the hookers--

CINDY: Sex Workers

JACK: You're telling me that since the sex workers are informally unionized, that standards and practices are OK with you talking about sex positions and possible injuries?

RYAN: This is cable news, Jack

(Jack doesn't know what to say. So he pours more liquid from the flask into his coffee mug.)

JACK: OK, let me talk with the guys upstairs. Ryan, I'll get back with you. So that's it, right.

PAUL STILLHOPINGTOAVOIDINSIDERTRADINGCHARGES, Finance Anchor: We've got a story as well.

JACK: (screaming) WHY IN THE HELL IS FINANCE DISCUSSING THE SPITZER STORY?

PAUL: Now Jack, you didn't go ballistic when Ryan proposed his story. I expect the same courtesy as well.

JACK: I'm sorry, Paul. Tell me, what is finances take on the Spitzer story.

PAUL: Well, we are interviewing a pimp-- ah, male sex worker supervisor, to discuss the tricks of the trade in running a high end escort service.

JACK: And I assume this too has gone through standards and practices with flying colors.

PAUL: I haven't even tried. Actually, I just got wind of what sports was doing and I felt like finance needed to do something as well.

JACK: Oh Lord. (Jack drinks from his flask directly)

CINDY:(turning to Paul) I think your stories are sexist.

PAUL: And why is that?

CINDY: Because you're talking finance with a male.

(Jack rolls his eyes and takes another swig.)

PAUL: So?

CINDY: Why not a female?

PAUL: Because you guys are interviewing females. I wanted a male point of view.

CINDY: To discuss finances.

PAUL: Well, Ryan chose not to interview men in his story, as did you as well, so I picked a guy, yes.

RYAN: I couldn't choose a man. Who wants to hear a bunch of guys talk about sex positions and injuries? I know I don't.

PAUL: Me either.

CINDY: It's still sexist.

(Brad's cell phone rings)

BRAD: Jack--

JACK: Yes Brad?

BRAD: We need to change our focus. Britney Spears is headed to Mexico with two Enquirer photographers, a seventeen- year- old USC freshman, two porn stars, Dog the Bounty Hunter, Gene Simmons, and a goat.

JACK: A goat?

BRAD: A goat

(A silence falls over the room.)

STEVE: (screaming) I'M ON IT!!! I'LL GET IT ON THE FIRST PLANE TO LA AND RENT A CAR AND DRIVE TO TIJUANA.

TIM: Let's find a psychologist to analyze her behavior.

GINGER: I'll interview Madonna and see what she thinks about all of this.

CINDY: Let's get some reaction from the pornography community.

RYAN: I wonder if steroids are involved.

BRAD: I'll start making plane reservations.

(Jack throws the box of nicotine gum at Steve. Everyone else just looks at Jack as if he were nuts as Jack storms out of the room.)

STUART: Guys, but don't forget. The press conference is at nine tomorrow morning.

THE END

And that is all I have to say about Spitzergate.

Now I am tired. I am off to take a nap.

Go 'Stros

Annie Show Your Bra Off

2008-03-08T19:30:00.006-06:00

Today I am writing about the mall.

This is quite difficult, as I am a cat and have never been to the mall.

However, I hear about this mall place constantly. Karen goes there often, as do her friends. From what I gather, the mall is this place where people buy stuff. Kind of like eBay, but more social and the parking is abysmal.

I've seen this mall place on CNN before. Evidently it's pretty happening.

Personally, I have no desire to go to the mall. I am a celebrity and don't want to be mauled by hordes of screaming fans. I've seen this happen to other celebrities on E! News and it's very disconcerting.

When you are as famous as I am, it pays to take precautions.

Anyway . . .

Karen was telling me about these girls she saw at the mall. Evidently it is now a fashion trend to wear a tight white t shirt with a brightly colored bra.

So basically, these gals are announcing to the world the following:

1. Yes, I wear a bra.

2. Yes, I am a skank.

3. If I'm not a skank, I did not look in the mirror this morning after dressing. Therefore, I am an idiot.

4. I got boobs.

Truthfully, I have no qualms with nudity per say. After all, I spend most days wearing nothing at all and things seem to work out for me just fine, thank you much. But isn't underwear just that-- underwear??? What's the point of showing it off???

Any thoughts???

Norwegian Terrorists

2008-03-04T18:00:00.006-06:00

Dudes, is this not exciting or what???

The next leader of the free world might be determined by TEXANS.

That's right, Iowans. The power is back to the people.

Anyway, I am a cat and it seems I am not allowed to vote (bastard Americans, so closed minded). Regardless, I have some opinions and I feel a need to express them.

Who Do You Want to Take that Three A.M. Phone Call???

Let's start with the obvious: if you were married to Bill "depends on your definition of is" Clinton, your phone might be ringing a little more often in the middle of the night, too. Think about it. You're the new leader of the free world and a total eager beaver, ready for anything. Low and behold the red phone rings at three am.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Crystal from Scores. Bill left his wallet at the club. Just tell him to call my cell."

Don't get me wrong, I don't have any serious bones against the better half of HillBilly. I'm just saying that the commercial is a little dramatic and I immediately went to thoughts of former President Clinton receiving "top secret" phone calls regarding "serious security issues" pretty frequently, if you know what I mean.

Although the question is provoking: who do you want to answer that super important top secret phone call at three in the morning?

I can tell who shouldn't have this job: Karen.

Sadie and I, again, are cats. Sometimes, after a long day of sleeping, we like to let loose in the evening, or sometime after midnight. We eat, drink, socialize. Sometimes we have guests who just appear in the backyard, ready for some partying as well. Occasionally, things get a little wild and Sadie starts hissing and freaking at our backyard guests, and sometimes something like the garbage can in the kitchen gets knocked over. Karen has no patience for the commotion and starts freaking out.

That isn't particularly "presidential" behavior after all.

Now consider this: the President of France is calling to inform Karen, leader of the free world in this scenario, that his country has been invaded by a bunch of Norwegian terrorists. As we all know, Nordic terrorists are not going to invade during the middle of the afternoon. So as the French are sleeping (or taking a cigarette break) those crazy Nordes come in, bringing with them legalized drugs, but no weapons, as again, these are northern Europeans and not Texans.

And President Karen gets the call right smack dab in the middle of the night.

It would not be an attractive conversation. Karen is very mean spirited when you interrupt her sleep. She'd make a nasty comment, regarding World War II and "speaking German", if you know what I mean.

And now, we have an international incident, involving the French, Norwegian terrorists, possibly some hallucinogenics, and President Karen throwing out sixty- year- old war bitterness.

What a wholly mess.

Anyway . . .

Did you know that in Texas, the infamous exit level English/ Language Arts test was delayed a day so that schools, frequent polling places, wouldn't have to deal with both the dramatics of testing and crazy freakin' voters.

Anyway, wish the children good luck tomorrow. We want them to pass their exit test, graduate from high school, go to college and get good jobs because, not surprisingly, I'm not supporting them.

Go 'Stros.

Dawn is One Fabulous Cat

2008-03-01T19:34:00.004-06:00

What a week.

Karen is still crying over George Clooney's loss at the Academy Awards. I tried to console her with the idea that it really didn't matter since she most likely would not be meeting Mr. Clooney anytime soon.

I also tried to remind her that Daniel Day Lewis was almost as equally attractive, but she didn't care about this either.

Whatever

I can only deal with ridiculous for so long. Now I need to move on to more important things.

Like me and my award.

Anyway . . .

Dawn is back (link to the right).

If you don't know Dawn, she is a fabulous New Zealand writer. We love Dawn for a myriad of reasons, one being that she was the first person who wasn't one of Karen's insane acquaintances or relatives to post comments on the blog. Dawn knows pure genius when confronted with it, I'll tell you that.

Ripples on the Lake is a best seller in Australia. Although the title isn't available on Amazon in America, one can order it via booktopia.com, which ships internationally.

Anyway, I told you guys that Dawn is back, which infers that Dawn was gone for a while. It seems that ole Dawn is one busy lady, raising dogs (God forbid-- we'll forgive her that one), writing, and working on developing an Internet business.

Now Dawn has a little more free time, so she plans to rejoin us more often in cyberland.

To welcome back our prodigal daughter, I am awarding Dawn the "No Ordinary Cat" Award. Since Dawn has been absent, let me remind her of the rules:

1. You must post the award.

2. You must write or plagiarize an acceptance speech.

3. DO NOT send me your first born child, as I am too busy napping and grooming to raise such a creature.

Anyway, we are very glad to see Dawn back.

Other things my team of researchers are working this week:

1. Primary Crap
2. Liars, Statistics, and the Crap We Call Professional Sports
3. What the Crap are People Wearing to the Mall these Days???
4. Crappy World Series Predictions

Any other crap we should discuss???

Give Me Freedom or Expect Trouble

2008-02-24T19:43:00.002-06:00

Karen spent today boxing up stuff in the house in preparation for our impending move. She'd get a box from the garage and start placing items in it which we won't be needing immediately. At first I sat on the stairs, watching her, and dozed. Then she started packing the chenille throws.

I like the throws.

I frequently sleep on them during my midday naps.

So it shouldn't surprise you that I didn't want Karen to pack them. It also shouldn't surprise you that I jumped in the box when she walked into the kitchen to retrieve a Diet Pepsi.

Then suddenly she threw a quilt in the box, right on top of me. This didn't make me happy, so I jumped out of the box in a fury. Karen wasn't expecting this and she stumbled backwards and landed on the stairs.

After a few profane statements, Karen got up and continued packing. I jumped back in the box. Karen then picked me up and tried to sit me on the couch.

This was unacceptable.

So I bit her on the hand.

Then she smacked me on the head and said I was "naughty".

Oh please. I'm not a child. Children are naughty. I'm assertive.

Anyway, I got out of her reach and jumped back in the box. Karen picked me up again. This time she dropped me in the downstairs bathroom and closed the door before I could escape.

I kind of like the downstairs bathroom. Since no one is "housed" so to speak in the downstairs bathroom, the counters don't have a bunch of crap on them, as opposed to the counters in Karen's bathroom.

Anyway . . .

I turned on the water in the sink because I was thirsty. Karen didn't seem to care since I was out of her hair in the packing process. However, before I turned on the water I'd sat in the sink, in the process activating the plug.

Water filled the sink and began hitting the floor.

This is NOT my fault. Karen has no right to lock me up. It's wrong.

When Karen heard the water hit the tile, she came in screaming at me about "Driving her nuts".

"Do you want to destroy my house?" she said to me, waving her hands all about. "Do you really?"

I wasn't moving towards mass destruction, no. I was just thirsty and bored.

Anyway, I'm tired of hearing about "destroying the house". I'm going upstairs to take a nap.

Naked Garage Ladies and Hillary Clinton

2008-02-20T20:12:00.007-06:00

What can I say today?

Actually, I don't have much to say at all. Life has been kind of boring this week.

I noticed the other day two of our neighbors have large posters of naked ladies in their garages. I thought this was interesting, so I asked Karen to go and take some pictures for me to share with you guys. And she refused.

"I am not going to sneak into anyone's garage to take pictures of a poster of a naked woman so you can post them on the internet," she told me. "My neighbors might be redneck misogynists, but that's an invasion of their privacy.

"Besides, one in three homeowners in Texas are gun owners."

There is no way anyone on our street even knows what "misogynists" means. They just don't. Furthermore, from what I gather with the garages used as living rooms, I don't think anyone is too worried about privacy.

As far as the guns go, well, that's just a part of life. Karen should be willing to take a bullet for the blog.

Don't you think?

Chicken

So because Karen is such a freakin' girl, I can't show you the naked garage women in all of their coolness.

Anyway . . .

Both Barack and Hillary are in Texas this week. I'm excited about this because it's been a long freakin time since Texas actually mattered in the primaries. This is ridiculous, by the way. It makes absolutely no sense that stupid freakin' Iowa gets to go first. What the crap do they contribute? Besides, it's cold there.

I was thinking that I should interview both of these characters for my glorious readers. So I asked Karen if she would schedule them for interviews at the house. I was willing to offer them a lunch which Karen would prepare before she left for work.

Karen refused to help me with this as well.

"I don't personally know either Senator Obama or Senator Clinton," she told me. "Besides, I don't want Bill Clinton in my house. He creeps me out."

I didn't invite Bill Clinton. He can hang out in the neighbors' garages for all I care.

I have got to get a better staff.

Anyway, I need your help. Could you please call Senator Obama and Senator Clinton for me? Tell them to shoot me an email and I'd be more than happy to schedule them into my busy day.

I'm pooped out. Get those calls made. The Senators I'm sure will be very interested in spending an afternoon with me, as I am an incredibly relevant cat.

But not that long of an afternoon. Remember I sleep eighteen hours a day.

2007: A Year in Quotes

2008-02-15T21:22:00.001-06:00

When cleaning out files, I found this, which should have been posted almost two months ago. Anyway, enjoy!!!

The Best Quotes of 2007

"That's because I read it."

- Rep. Dennis Kucinich, explaining why he was the only candidate at the Las Vegas Democratic debate who had voted against the Patriot Act

"There were only two of them, but they made a whole frontage: huge, compelling, pneumatic. They burst out of tight red dresses--preferably red--or teased among feather boas, or flanked a dizzying cleavage that plunged to tantalising depths. These were celebrated, American breasts, engineered by silicon to be as broad and bountiful as the prairie. With them, a girl from nowhere--or from Houston, Texas--could do anything. The body behind them waxed and waned, sometimes stout as a stevedore's and sometimes almost waif-like, matching the little-girl voice; but the Breasts remained."

- The Anna Nicole Smith obituary in The Economist

"As always, I rely on the jury system."

- O.J. Simpson, after a judge refused to dismiss his latest criminal charges

"In Iran we don't have homosexuals like in your country."

-Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad

"There's only three things he mentions in a sentence: a noun and a verb and 9/11."

- Delaware Senator and Democratic presidential candidate Joseph Biden

"I'm not going to get into a name-calling match with somebody who has a nine percent approval rating."

-Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid on Vice President Dick Cheney

"(I have) a wide stance when going to the bathroom."

-Senator Larry Craig

Do you have a favorite "Best of" quote for 2007? If so, please share.

2008 looks to be quite a year as well. But I'm not sure we'll ever beat "I have a wide stance in the bathroom".

Myspace ain't Yourspace

2008-02-13T21:29:00.001-06:00

Tonight on the local news the fourth story was about a sixth grader who was poking fellow students with an Exacto knife as they walked by his table in art class. Keep in mind that my local news is in the fourth largest city in the United States.

Just a dumbass sixth grader

Not even an Exacto gang of dumbass sixth graders

No one died

No one went to the emergency room

No one even had stitches

Again, just a dumbass sixth grader with an Exacto knife

I can't say much more. That is, other than, why the crap is this the FOURTH STORY ON THE LOCAL NEWS???

Anyway . . .

My good friend Jim over at "The Stars are My Destination" shared this with me:

Evidently, the 35,000 member "Harvard Award Winning" Atheist group was somehow deleted from Myspace, but now has been retrieved:

http://www.secularstudents.org/node/1942

I have a question:
If the basis of a group is not believing something, what do they talk about?

"Do you believe in God?"

"No, I don't think so."

"O.K. then"

"Do you need proof of a Godless society?"

"Sure why not?"

There's only so much to say about something one doesn't believe in. Within five minutes or so, do they go to politics? What about crazy Britney? I'm really into this whole Roger Clemens did he/ didn't he do steroids thing, so if I were an atheist, I'd go there.

Anyway . . .

I don't know how Myspace works. Before the atheists were reinstated, I was planning on calling for a Myspace boycott, but I don't have a Myspace account, so that would be pretty stupid. Then I thought about suggesting that the atheists go over to Facebook and realized this really didn't have that much of an effect on my life, so I took a nap instead.

I'm not exactly sure what Facebook is, anyway. For that matter, the only thing I know about Myspace is that it's the place where the Feds catch all those pedophiles.

Since the atheists were reinstated to Myspace, I guess all is well.

Some of the Atheists believe that a right wing Christian group is responsible for having them deleted. I hope this isn't the case, mainly because what's the point?

To win an emotional argument (and yes, the existence of a God or many gods, or whatever, is an emotional argument, whether you see it that way or not), one has to appeal to another emotion. I don't know how one goes about convincing an atheist to become a Christian, but I can guarantee that deleting their forum ain't the way.

The "pissy" emotion does not win friends and influence people. Since I am a cat and far superior to all of you people, I am exempt from this rule.

For me pissy is endearing.

Anyway, I've gotta go. Stay tuned for "Working the Poles with Fred's Hot Wife".

Another Fabulous Winner

2008-02-11T18:42:00.000-06:00

I'm giving my second award to my good friend Jessica. She writes the blog entitled "The SUV Driving Bitch Your Mother Warned You About". I happen to love Jessica. Personally, I don't see her as a bitch. I see her as knowing what she wants. I know what I want, too, so I totally understand how one can misinterpret decisiveness for bitchiness.

Jessica has two kids and a husband and works voluntarily as a domestic engineer. The domestic engineer position is not all it's cracked up to be, by the way. It requires significant patience and organization, of which I have none. Nevertheless, Jessica perserveres and excels, I'm sure.

Jessica lives in Colorado and has a house up for sell. So if you're into Colorado real estate, you should let her know.

Anyway, I enjoy reading Jessica's blog. She's very insightful (a link to the left).

Now let me remind ole Jessica of the rules: you have to post the award, write an acceptance speech, and DON'T send me your first born child. Karen said I would have to be in charge of all first born children while she was at work, and I just don't think that would be a good idea for anyone involved.

Please also remember there is a penalty for noncompliance. I would really hate to stuff Sadie with milk and kitty treats and have Karen march her over to your house. It would be most tragic for all Coloradans.

Anyway, stay tuned for more fabulous Penelope the Cat stuff. These are some topics in which I plan to discuss the week:

Atheists and Myspace

"Working the Pole" and MSNBC

Whatever crap I decide to inflict upon you next

Toodles

The Vacuum Solution

2008-02-09T09:16:00.000-06:00

And now, another episode from Masterass Theater:

http://www.newsday.com/sports/baseball/yankees/ny-spclemens0209,0,5475476.story

Leave it to a human female to use human growth hormones for reasons of vanity.

Allegedly, that is.

Let me give you the reader's digest version of this story:

Allegedly, according to Brian McNamee, former trainer to the stars and major league congressional stoolie, he injected Human Growth Hormone (HGH) in Debbie Clemens', wife of Roger, stomach before a photo shoot with Sports Illustrated, in which the Debster was supposed to appear wearing a bikini.

According to the article I found her concern to be "having a man, not her husband", injecting her in the stomach.

So is injecting illegal substances outside of marriage some form of foreplay???

Whatever

I wasn't sure exactly why one would do this, so I did a little research on HGH and found this link:

http://amos.indiana.edu/library/scripts/hGH.html

Anyway, it still boils down to vanity. I asked Karen if she were posing for Sports Illustrated in a bikini would she use HGH.

According to Karen, HGH wouldn’t be her first move. Instead, Karen told me she would find someone who could attach vacuums to a variety of places on her body and just suck the fat out.

Then she would consider HGH.

"You have to prioritize the needs," she told me.

Anyway, I've been meaning to say some things about the congressional hearings, but have not due to time. This story I discovered today and couldn't resist. But now I want to talk about the important stuff:

We've all heard the back and forth blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, phone conversations, meetings, yes he did/ oh no he didn't, etc. baloney. Now we've got hypodermic needles, circa who knows when, allegedly stained with the blood of Roger Clemens.

Does anyone else find this creepy? It's like Monica Lewinsky having that dress after all that time with Clinton's, how should I say it, "little Bills" all over it. Why does one keep something like that around, if not for the purpose of extortion?

I'm not saying Clemens is as innocent as the driven snow. Professional sports are a nasty game and as I've said before, any time big bucks are attached to production, good luck with playing fair.

Regardless, Clemens should be careful. Barry Bonds didn't get indicted for possessing or using an illegal substance; he did however get indicted for lying about it under oath, as did Marion Jones.

Anyway, that's today's drama. And the good news: five days to the opening of spring training.

Phlem: It's nature's way of saying: "Dude, you're sick."

2008-02-06T12:58:00.001-06:00

Karen has been fighting a cold since last week. She went to work like a good employee trying to quietly sabotage "the man" by getting everyone else sick, hence sending the American economy into an economic tailspin. Wednesday, Karen decided she had enough. Her throat hurt, she couldn't breathe and just was generally agitated. So she stayed home, and in the process was cramping my style.

5 am: Karen woke up. After realizing she wasn't going to work, she went back to sleep.

7 am: Karen woke up again finally. She stumbled downstairs, fed Sadie and I, and crashed on the couch.

7:05 am: Karen dozes and watched TV

10 am: Karen decides she needs drugs. Karen went to CVS to buy some hard core cold medication. She had to sign a form swearing that A.) Karen was not the CEO and president of a meth lab and B.) Karen would not use said product in any operation of said meth lab.

10:30 am: Karen comes home and crashes on the couch again.

11: Karen got bored of daytime TV, which consists of primary coverage, catastrophic tornadoes, and Heath Ledger.

11:03: Karen walks into the kitchen. She sees me sitting on the ledge in front of the kitchen window. Not overly happy, Karen scolded me and took me off the ledge.

This makes no sense. Karen says she doesn't want Sadie and I on the kitchen counter. I wasn't on the kitchen counter. I was on the ledge in front of the window, above the sink. I was sunbathing, for crying out loud. She never once saw me on the kitchen counter.

Who does she think she is? We don't live under the Patriot Act in this household. You have to have PROOF of these actions before she can start fussing and moving me.

11:05 am: I retaliated by biting Karen on the ankle twice as she walked upstairs, almost making her fall.

Hee- hee

11:06 am: Karen called me "homicidal", along with some other things I cannot repeat. I didn't think that was fair. I'm not saying I didn't make an attempt, but I wasn't successful. Therefore I don't think she can call me "homicidal".

Anyway . . .
11:23 am: Karen crawls back into bed. Puts Down with Love in DVD player

11:36 am: Karen falls asleep

2:00 pm: Karen wanders downstairs and plops down on the couch.

The couch is mine during the day. Everyone knows this. How dare she take my space?

2:20 pm: I am thirsty. Yes, I have a water dish, but that's not what I wanted. So I go over to Karen and start rubbing up against her hand as it dangled lifelessly from the couch. I got nothing. So then I jumped up on the couch and sat on her face.

2:21 pm: Karen started screaming at me, alleging that I was trying to kill her. I guess this was her way of refusing to turn on the water in the bathroom sink for me.
I am so about ready start feeding Sadie an excess of kitty treats and have her barf in the underwear drawer.

3:00 pm: Phone rings. I have no idea who called.

3:03 pm: Karen falls asleep AGAIN

4:30 pm: Karen decides she's hungry and fixes soup which she refuses to share with me.

5:30 pm: Karen falls asleep again.

7:00 pm: Watched Alfred Hitchcock movies (Vertigo, Rear Window).

8:00 pm: Karen realizes that she's delusional and can't possibly go to work. Calls in sick.

9:30 pm: Karen falls asleep

11:oo pm: Karen goes to bed

Thankfully, Karen is going back to work in the morning. She's functioning at about half capacity, but she isn't too concerned. I'm just relieved I'll have the house to myself tomorrow. After all, I'm a busy cat and I have plenty of things to do.

Superbowl Sunday

2008-02-03T22:47:00.000-06:00

Although I knew today was Superbowl Sunday, I didn't know who was playing other than Tom Brady.

How could you not know Tom Brady was playing in the Superbowl???

Anyway . . .

I didn't even catch the whole game. We watched Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason, because as you all know Karen is madly in love with Colin Firth. Anyway, it ended right as half time started, so we got to see Tom Petty, which was truly all we planned to watch of the Superbowl.

However the game was close: 3-7 Patriots.

So we stuck around, despite the fact that no one in my house has any interest in football (however we really liked the commercial with Will Ferrell).

I enjoyed that second half; the palpable excitement of the underdog win.

That's all I'm going to say about the Superbowl, as once again, I have no interest in such things. Let me tell you about what else I'm doing:

Book Reviews by Penelope the Cat

I am reading two books at the same time:

Book number one: "Wouldn't Take Nothing for My Journey Now" by Maya Angelou

This is a collection of essays, both fiction and not. It's been very enjoyable so far and I hope to share more in detail later this week.

Book number two: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by Jean- Dominique Bauby

This one has been made into a movie. Look it up on Wiki-- the concept is intriguing.

Anyway, I'll give you more by the end of the week. That's all I'm saying right now.

Go forth and preach the word of Penelope. I'd do it myself, except I'm busy grooming . . .

And the Winner is . . .

2008-01-31T21:47:00.000-06:00

When I won my blogging award last week, I was supposed to pass it on to five others.

I couldn't decide who to award, being so many important blogs out there in cyberland.

However, I take my obligations within the blogging community quite seriously. At the same time, my ability to follow directions is lacking.

What do you people expect? I'm a cat. We are not designed to do what people request. That would just be ridiculous.

So, of course, I changed the rules.

Weekly (or whenever I please) I will award a fellow blogger with a "You are no ordinary cat award".

Here are the rules:

1. You must post said award.

2. You must write an acceptance speech. You may steal speech from wherever, I really don't care. But you must post one.

3. You must send me your first born child.

Actually, Karen told me to scratch number three. She said we really didn't want a bunch of first born children running around here. It would crimp our bachelorette style.

If you do not follow the rules of the award, I will send Sadie to your house after feeding her a galloon of milk and a twelve pound bag of kitty treats. Trust me, you really don't want to incur this wrath.

My first award goes to my dear friend Robyn from Robyn's Nest.

Her link is to the right.

Why, do you ask, does Robyn get the first award?

The answer to this is quite simple: Robyn, a famous fashion designer, I'm assuming who works for Chanel, made me a poncho.

She's the only one who sends me gifts. So she gets the first award.

Are you crying foul? Sadie runs the complaint department. She's illiterate. Good luck with that.

Anyway, Robyn just opened an Esty Store. You should stop by and purchase a bunch of her ever so fabulous crafty stuff. Eventually, I'm will pose in an ad for this store. Robyn is working on persuading Steven Meisel to take the pictures and everything.

Anyway, that's all I have today. I'm going to bed as Karen is sick and she told me that if I wake her tonight for any reason other than a homocidal maniac running through the house, she would send me to live with evil Jeff.

Empty threat

Other Thoughts on Ass Hats

2008-01-29T17:28:00.000-06:00

First of all, I'd like to give a shout out to Mr. Shife. I linked him on my list of favorite blogs to your right.

Anyway, Mr. Shife used a most descriptive and appropriate phrase today. I wouldn't do it justice with a description, so I'll just use it:

"Ass Hats"

What does this even mean? I don't know, but doesn't it paint an awesome picture? I just love it:

Ass Hats

I'm going to start working it into the conversation.

Anyway . . .

Speaking of "ass hats" . . .

Penelope the Cat's Version of What Not to Wear

Dear Senator Clinton:

I understand that the world is totally giving you a raw deal, going after you physically in a way they wouldn't dare towards a man. But please do yourself a favor and DON'T wear the red suit to the State of the Union Address.

It reeks of Scarlet O'Hara, which isn't much better than Lady Macbeth.

Yes, we watched the State of the Union. This is because our flicker broke and Karen hasn't bought a new one yet. Karen didn't get up and change the station either because she is LAZY. So we were watching The State of the Union when I'm sure somewhere on the four million stations provided by our local cable company a really bad "reality" show existed.

Primary Questions
Katie Couric interviewed each of the presidential candidates and asked them what one book they would bring with them if they were elected president other than the Bible.

The responses were interesting:

John McCain: Wealth of Nations (Adam Smith)
Never read it. It's economics.

Barack Obama: Team of Rivals (Doris Kearns Goodwin)
Haven't read this one either. It's a Lincoln biography and from the Amazon description, I might try it.

Mitt Romney: John Adams (David McCullough)
I read this two or three years ago and enjoyed it for the same reason that ole Mitt did: I thought the relationship between John and Abigail Adams was sweet. This is not, however, my favorite McCullough-- I prefer Truman.)

Mike Huckabee: Whatever happened to the Human Race? (Francis Schaeffer and C. Everett Koop)
Never read it. It's about abortion, basically. Reader reviews are good. Only three copies are left on Amazon.

John "Senator Good Hair" Edwards: Trial of Socrates (I.F. Stone)
This is an interesting choice. One needs to know that ole I.F. is a rabble rousing journalist. (Is there anything better???) He plays the devil's advocate well. Anyway, The Trial of Socrates is worth reading if only because of the non martyr version of the philosopher.

Hillary Clinton: The Constitution (Thomas Jefferson) and The Federalist Papers (Alexander Hamilton, John Jay, and James Madison)
First of all, this response was made in snippiness and used as an attack against George the Sequel. I'm not necessarily against snippiness and general ruthlessness towards the boy who would be king, but the comment about the current White House loosing their copy was unnecessary. Just answer the damn question, Hillary. Take the high road. You'll look better in the end.

Anyway, Karen read The Federalist Papers in high school government class (Ms. Kellow, her favorite teacher, assigned it). This is a collection of writings to New Yorkers, appearing in a variety of journals, advocating the ratification of the U.S. constitution. Americans should read them.

Rudy Guiliani: The Federalist Papers

He claims to have a copy in his desk drawer at work.

I wasn't planning on discussing these choices. My plan was merely to mock the idea and to point out that most of these yahoos had their assistants reading such pretentious titles.

But then I was moved for about ten seconds and found each somewhat thoughtful and sincere.

I came to my senses when Hillary started bitching about the current presidency, though.

Anyway, here are some responses I, Penelope the cat, think would be far more entertaining and possibly a little closer to the truth:

"When I look for guidance I go to L. Ron"

"You know, I'm not much of a reader. I fall asleep watching reruns of Seinfeld"

"Anarchist Cookbook"

"My wife prefers Morelli over Ranger."

"Penthouse" (this is only funny if said stone cold serious)

"Catcher in the Rye"

"Books are obsolete now that Al Gore created the Internet."

"Dude, did you see that new one about Tom Cruise? Man, has Katie Holmes painted herself into a corner!"

"I prefer burning to reading." (another one only funny deadpan)

"I really like those Danielle Steele novels. I read them all afternoon while sitting on the couch, drinking Diet Coke and listening to Dr. Phil."

"I now know what women think, thanks to Dr. Gray."

It's Nacho Cheese, Please

2008-01-26T20:48:00.001-06:00

Karen ran to the grocery store this weekend for her mom. She needed several things, including a box of Velveeta cheese.

So Karen drove to the market down the street from her parent's house. This is the grocery store where her mom used to shop when she was a young child, although it has changed hands a number of times over the years. Anyway she found everything on the list except the Velveeta cheese.

She looked in all the obvious places, including next to the other cheeses, with the milk, and all around the refrigerator section. Frustrated, she finally gave up. When she got to the check out line she asked the checker.

"It's on aisle seventeen, next to the wine," the checker told her, as if it were obvious

What???

Are we that unsophisticated at Karen's house? We were not under the impression that Velveeta cheese was served with wine.

It's almost worth clarifying.

Velveeta?

You know, the cheese sold in giant blocks, used for things like nacho cheese dip???

On the wine aisle.

So next time you go to a swanky cocktail party you should ask for a cracker and some Velveeta to clear your palate.

I guess it has so many preservatives it doesn't need refrigeration. But with the wine?

This makes no sense.

If I wasn't putting it with the other cheeses, I'd place it next to the Rotel Tomatoes, or the tortilla chips.

But what do I know? I'm a cat and I've never even been to the grocery store, as the man won't allow me inside. Something about "sanitary" reasons, which is completely stupid, as I'm far more clean than your run of the mill four- year- old.

And they are permitted everywhere.

If the grocery store is anything like PetSmart, I have no interest anyway. All sorts of dogs reek havoc on that place. Some of them are like horses. Not to mention it smells like a combination of urine and wet canine.

Anyway, Karen was so amazed by the whole Velveeta next to the wine thing, that the woman shopping in her purple bathrobe was merely icing for the trip.

A Myriad of Things

2008-01-20T19:56:00.001-06:00

I have so much to tell you on so many different subjects.

Where to begin, where to begin . . .

Writing and Inspiration

Part of the deal with my little award was I have to give some writing tips. I've been thinking for a week about what I wanted to say on this subject. Then I ran across an interview with Janet Evanovitch on the Barnes and Noble website. Evanovitch, if you are not aware, writes the Stephanie Plum female bounty hunter books. They are totally great, hysterical, etc.:

http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbnInquiry.asp?z=y&EAN=9780312985363&itm=2

Basically, this sums it up. I write for myself. I love to write and don't understand the fact that not everyone loves to write as well. That being said it's a total thrill when I go to my stat counter and see that people find my blog, return to it and continue to read, despite the fact that I don't correct typos which I notice three days after I posted (hence "sinding").

I love it when people comment. I really don't care too much what you say, I just like comments. Again, please comment. If not for any other reason other than to allow me the pleasure of visiting you. I've yet to come across a blog I didn't like.

Actually, that's not true. A while back I found a blog written by some guy who talked exclusively about "tail". I showed this to Karen and she called him a misogynist, amongst other things. I didn't comment on this site, as I have no interest in rabbits.

Whatever

If I were to give a writing tip I would say to focus more on ideas and concepts as opposed to construction. The average reader only sees about one out of every third word. I'd much rather see brilliance than worry about comma splices and compound/ complex sentences. With basic knowledge of grammar, construction takes care of itself anyway through practice and perseverance.

Readers become great writers. The two are intertwined hopelessly. Reading improves vocabulary. It's a great spring board for ideas. Plus it give the writer exposure to a variety of styles, one might not ever experience without reading.

My best piece of advice is to LISTEN. I base most of my content on things around me, either in books, magazines, television, the radio, reality (as opposed to "reality"), etc. I'm not particularly inventive. I function on the absurd, but not the idiotic.

Well, that's not totally true. I love the idiotic as well.

I read somewhere that Steve Martin once pointed out that chaos in the midst of order is funny, but chaos in the midst of chaos is not. Think about it; that makes sense.

As for funny, I like funny, but I've never considered myself particularly humorous. I'm not quick witted. Perhaps that's why I like this mode of communication: I come across as far more clever than I actually am in reality.

That is my writing advice. What is next is me ranting about political baloney:

Walker Texas Ranger and the Godless Commie Destroyer

I decided to spare you guys my Ronald Reagan soliloquy, but I totally love this subhead, so I'm not changing it.

If I say Chuck Norris, does everyone know who I'm talking about?

I don't mean to sound insipid, but I'm not totally sure if ole Chuck is a Texas celebrity or a universally known character. Anyway, I just looked him up on Wiki and yes, I will now assume that the world knows of the Chuckster.

Anyway, it seems that Chuck is a born again Republican and a staunch supporter of Mike Huckabee. That's great. I'm always thrilled when actors throw their two cents into the world of politics as if they know something. Sometimes I even give them the benefit of the doubt before I openly mock them.

This is not the case today.

It seems that John McCain will be a whopping two years older than the oldest president ever to hold the office. (You people BETTER know to whom I am referring. I will not allow my audience to be culturally illiterate.) To me this is totally funny. Republicans worship Reagan.

I don't know what to say. In all honesty I like McCain better than Huckabee or Romney (Or the MIA Guilliani, who has decided to bet all or nothing on Florida. Hope those retirees show up at the poles, Rudy.), but I'm not a Republican, either. I think he has experience no other candidate (Democrat or Republican) possesses. Yes, with experience comes age. It's a double edge sword.

My thinking behind the age thing is this: when it's our time the great script writer in the sky will take us. End of discussion. In all honesty, I haven't considered McCain's age. I knew he wasn't forty, but he doesn't seem that old, either. Maybe his genes are good, I don't know. His mother is 95 and still drives, for crying out loud.

I just think the age issue is petty. It's not like any (and I mean any) of the candidates are particularly great.

What are your thoughts? Is McCain too old to run???

In Defense of Barack

There's a story going around about Obama. It claims he's a closeted Muslim. Since I don't live in the Obama household, so I have no idea firsthand whether this is true or not.

I'm not going to spend too much time validating or invalidating this, as it isn't my point. I've done the research and I'm seeing only evidence of exposure to Islam because as a child he went to school in Indonesia. This shouldn't be particularly shocking as Indonesia is primarily Muslim. His stepfather, who was in the oil business, was Muslim, although not practicing. His father, as far as my research showed was an agnostic or an atheist (born in Kenya educated in the U.S.). His mother was one of those who liked to expose her child to a myriad of beliefs and practices. As an adult he's been affiliated with the United Church of Christ for the past sixteen years.

This is not the point I want to make today though.

We have got to get over this Muslim thing in our country. If you are not knowledgeable of the Islamic religion here is a site with good information:

http://www.religioustolerance.org/islam.htm

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a Muslim, nor am I proselytizing. I'm just saying that Middle Eastern terrorists are about as good of a representation of Islam as Jim Jones or David Koresh, or any of your run of the mill abortion clinic bombers are a great representation of Christianity.

Isn't this the "freedom of religion" country? Did I miss the part about freedom of religion as long as it's some strain of Christianity?

Whatever

Let's go back forty plus years. John F. Kennedy ran for president during a time when people were scared of Catholics and the idea of the Pope being an influential figure within our government. Kennedy did wonders for Catholic acceptance in this country by basically TALKING about the role of Catholicism in his life and his philosophy of the separation of church and state.

Did you hear me? Should I repeat this concept again? It seems quite foreign in the post 9/11 era.

SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE.

I don't think that was enough. I think I'll repeat it again in red font.

SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE

Do we have it now?

Mitt Romney attempted the same thing a few weeks back on Face the Nation.

I didn't see it as particularly successful. The questions people wanted him to answer he didn't. I ended the half hour feeling Romney avoided more about Mormonism than he answered.

It was a disappointment to me. I really wanted to see Romney show Mormonism in a positive light.

The reality is regardless of religion most people live their lives, are nice to their neighbors, and want their kids to do well in school.

Humans are quite predictable, but what do I know-- I'm just a cat.

What are You Thinking, Obama???

As you all know, I get sick and tired of political whining.

Now I'm going to gripe about Obama.

Apparently, last week Obama mentioned that Bill Clinton had a tendency to mislead people.

Really? Slick Willie misleads people?

I totally didn't know that.

We are talking about the same Bill Clinton who ten years ago (can you believe it's been ten years) argued the definition of "is", right?

Of course he misleads people. He's a politician. Because he's relatively charming we forget Clinton is a scumbag.

I know to some Democrats this is heresy. I've just done the equivalent of calling Ronald Reagan senile to Republicans, which may or may not have been true as well.

Whoops

Please don't unite and burn down my house.

It seems the nasty season is well underway. May I ask why it was so freakin' important to start all this crap (and yes I do mean crap) early? So now it has to drag on almost a year?

I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.

Plus there's nothing on T.V.

What shall I do???

Later on this week, I'll give out my awards. Right now I'm tired and going to hit the hay.

Crazygate

2008-01-15T20:06:00.000-06:00

"I do love you, even if I used to be an opium addict."

-- L. Ron Hubbard

Explains a lot, huh???

This is me hiding from the Scientologists-- they are known for litigation.

If any of you, my readers and fans, are Scientologists, good luck getting anything out of me. I'm a cat and have nothing of what you humans call "money". I have no job or pockets. I live with Karen, who claims to also have "no money", or at least that's what she told me the other day when I asked her why we didn't have a driver and a staff like the late Leona Hemsley's dog.

Anyway . . .

Amongst journalists, a Scientology video is circulating featuring every one's favorite Scientologist Tom Cruise, expressing his hard and fast devotion.

http://gawker.com/5002269/the-cruise-indoctrination-video-scientology-tried-to-suppress

This video has been removed from YouTube several times, as it's totally great. Cruise, at least in my opinion, comes across as both an egoist and a moron (interesting combination).

Catch it while you can.

Another point of interest: Andrew Morton's unauthorized biography of Cruise came out today. No, I'm probably not going to read it, as I have several other things I'd rather read, I'm not a big Morton fan (or a proponent of "couch trip" Cruise, for that matter) for a variety of reasons. However, if any of you guys have an interest in reading it, I'd sure love to hear about ole crazy Tom.

Allegedly crazy, that is.

Let's just say it this way: Brooke may be forgiving, but we over here at "I Don't Pretend to be an Ordinary Cat" are not that sort.

Whatever

I Would Like to Thank the Academy

2008-01-14T18:20:00.000-06:00

Jessica, a.k.a. "the SUV Driving Bitch Your Mother Warned You About", has bestowed upon my fabulous self my first honor as a feline blogger.

For this occasion, I have written an acceptance speech. Actually, I didn't "write" the speech; Tom Hanks, or someone who worked for Tom Hanks, wrote this in 1995 when he won the Oscar for Best Actor in Forest Gump. I'm just making it fit my purposes.:

Thank you. I'm standing here in lieu of my fellow nominees who are just as deserving, if not more so of this moment.

Hold on. This is totally inaccurate. No one is more deserving of this award. I am Penelope, the all knowing and fabulous cat. What's amazing to me is that no one has seen it fit to award me with anything before now.

I'm standing here because of an army of people who over the course of a back-breaking schedule worked much harder than I did and who had much more at risk if our efforts were not successful. This is to be expected though. As we all know I am a cat and as a species we simply aren't that prone to menial tasks.

I'm empowered to stand here thanks to the ensemble of bloggers, men and women, who I shared the vast cyber universe with and who in ways they will never understand made me a better blogger. We share, we read, we comment, we love.

And I am standing here because the woman I share my life with has taught me and demonstrates for me every day just what love is. [I roll my eyes as Karen attempts to kick me off the couch so she can use the computer.]

Man, I feel as though I'm standing on magic legs in a special effects process shot that is too unbelievable to imagine and far too costly to make a reality. But that might be the excess of kitty treats I ate this afternoon . . .

But here is my mark, and there is where I'm supposed to type, and believe me, the power and the pleasure and the emotion of this moment is as constant as the speed of light. It will never be diminished, nor will my appreciation.

And the meaning between two simple words that I can only offer you here: Thank you, God bless you in this room and God bless you all around the world.

Anyway, now I'm supposed to share this award with five other of my fellow bloggers and give three writing tips. In due time I will complete this task. But not right now. I am a cat after all and all of this plagiarizing has made me very tired, so I'm off for a nap.

The Epistles of Chuck

2008-01-10T22:10:00.000-06:00

As I've mentioned a couple of times, the American legal system is quickly going down the toilet. Normally, when I make this observation it applies to O.J. Simpson or the like. However, I discovered the greatest and most fabulous legal issue since Anna Nicole Smith went head to head with the heirs of the J. Howard Marshall estate:

Chuck Rosenthal

If you don't live in Houston, you might not be privy to this story. However, if you do reside in greater Houston, unless your habitat is under a rock you've been bombarded with the latest and greatest soap opera in the county DA's office.

Where to begin . . .

Harris County District Attorney Chuck Rosenthal is up for reelection. Somehow Rosenthal missed the lesson on common sense in the 21st century workplace which tells one that if one must carry on or attempt to woo one's executive assistant, one really ought NOT document the events via EMAIL.

Dumbass

Actually those emails were fairly tame. A local news station got hold of them and put them on the web. I was looking forward to the literary raunchiness of a Charles and Camilla circa 1990ish (if you don't know-- look it up), but merely got a bunch of "I miss you"/ "I love you" crap. There was a statement about hiring "hot interns" made by or to a work cohort (oh, and Rosenthal is totally Brad Pitt-- lemme tell ya), but to me that was the worst in the batch.

Initially, I defended Rosenthal. Yeah, he's a scumbag, but that doesn't mean he's not good at his job. I didn't see anything that horrific in those emails. Besides, this isn't 1690. Scumbags are all over the place in the workforce, according to Karen. She said they are frequently the source of much gossip and fodder, making the day worthwhile.

Besides, lots of people use their work email for all kinds of personal communication. Granted, I see a difference between Rosenthal emailing his lover/ potential lover/ whatever at work and say Karen emailing a friend about what time they are meeting to go see a movie. But is it truly that different? Technically, it's still using workplace tools for personal use.

That was my original stance on all of this. Thank goodness I didn't post before Christmas.

It seems that whispering sweet nothings into the computer of his personal assistant and the potential of sexually harassing college students is just the tip of the iceberg. After a fairly intensive search through his email, it was discovered he had all kinds of racist, pornographic, and generally naked stuff on his email. The problem, though, is not receiving such crap. The problem is when one forwards it to others.

Whoops.

For the last week, the first news story on the local news broadcasts is the Rosenthal emails, typically including an example. I've seen the footage of this woman in a yellow tube top sitting on a bench when suddenly a man comes behind her and pulls her top down like a hundred times due to this drama. So basically within the first ninety second of the local news we see a topless woman on a bench with a black oval covering her unmentionables.

Every freakin' night.

I'd like them to vary it a little. From what I've heard there is other footage.

Or better yet, maybe a anchorperson could just say, "You know that Rosenthal story we've been entertaining you with since before Christmas? Well, we're going to forgo the footage of the nudie emails and just get to today's latest.

Anyway, I asked Karen about her work email. She said she made a point of not giving her work email out to anyone who wouldn't need it for work purposes.

"I have a personal email address," she told me. "That's what it's for."

Good point.

At this point in the story, after much persuasion, Rosenthal agreed renege on his reelection campaign, although he would not resign. Democrats are pulling a "it's past the deadline, he has to run" to ensure a victory. Republican ladder climbers in the DA's office are attempting to chase down the nomination.

Anyway, it gets better.

It seems that some of the nasty emails came from one Dr. Siegler, the husband of assistant DA Kelly Siegler, who is one of the fore mentioned ladder climbers. Siegler is known for such courtroom dramatics as straddling a man on a bed to demonstrate how a woman could not "accidentally" stab her husband forty times.

So then Siegler tries to distance herself from her husband, saying that he's an idiot for sending emails like that. This made sense and for a brief moment I wasn't holding anything against Siegler except poor taste in men and her tendencies towards the dramatic.

But then came Lakewood.

It seems that in the context of selecting a jury in a death penalty case that Siegler wanted to remove a juror because he was a member of Lakewood Church and all members of Lakewood are "screwballs and nuts".

If you are not aware, Lakewood is supposedly the largest church in the United States. It's weekend attendance hovers around 50,000.

That's a lot of people for someone running for office to piss off.

This is the dramatics on Houston local news. The irony is that Mr. Rosenthal is in bigger trouble for something else:

He was also using his state computer, paid for by the residents of Harris County, for campaign work. Stuff like "come to the Bar-b-Que" and "buy a t shirt for your little ones". In Texas, this is a big no, no.

Forget adultery.

Forget offensive emails.

Forget computer porn.

Just don't solicit coworkers during campaign season.

Freakin' crazy

Hit Me Baby One More Time is Probably the Problem

2008-01-04T16:07:00.000-06:00

"[My son] Casey died for a country which cares more about who will be the next American Idol than how many people will be killed in the next few months while Democrats and Republicans play politics with human lives."- Cindy Sheehan

Isn't that the truth!!!

By the way, there are 3,908 American casualties in Iraq since the invasion.

So what can I tell you: America has finally demonstrated a little faith in a presidential candidate of African heritage and guess what's "breaking news"???

Crazy-ass Britney

Headline News (I'm guess HN is a CNN style news station-- I don't know), was broadcasting live today outside an LA courtroom for the latest breaking news in the Britney Spears drama.

Why the crap is this "latest breaking news"? As I've said before who cares?

Furthermore, unless you've been living under a rock for the last year you should know that ole Britney is chemically, postpardumly, or some other garden variety of nuts. For this reason, coverage of Spears' latest drama is completely unnecessary.

Sorry guys, it's an election year.

We've got a wholly disaster in the middle east.

Osama released another tape.

All of this and a 24 hour news station has nothing better to do than send reporters to a Los Angeles courtroom and Cedar Sinai???

What a country!

White Trash Theater: A Play in Two Acts

2007-12-30T11:57:00.000-06:00

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.

Whatever

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.

END OF ACT ONE

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.

END OF PLAY

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.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Rush Limbaugh's Cat

2007-12-29T20:14:00.000-06:00

"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.

Period

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.

And a Merry Christmas to all . . .

2007-12-25T20:04:00.000-06:00

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.

January
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
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.

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

May
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.

June
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.

July
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.

August
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.

September
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.

Whatever

October
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.

November
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.

December
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

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

2007-12-18T19:18:00.001-06:00

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:

http://www.ato.gov.au/businesses/content.asp?doc=/Content/69324.htm

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

Anyway, back to the Texas stripper tax . . .

http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/ap/tx/5388713.html

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"???

Whatever

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.

Whatever

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

2007-12-13T19:30:00.000-06:00

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

Tis the Season of Six to Eight Black Men

2007-12-12T22:14:00.000-06:00

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

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AjUFl1mEpX8

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!!!

Good Night and Good Luck

2007-12-08T07:57:00.000-06:00

"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.

Period

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)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Uu8ga3IDsM

"Come and whisper in my ear. Give us dirty laundry."

That is, after my nap. This philosophical thinking has made me quite tired.

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

2007-12-04T18:05:00.000-06:00

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)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Top0ZUzg5bQ&feature=related

Enjoy!!!

G0 Stros!!!

It's Not Easy Being Green

2007-12-02T20:36:00.000-06:00

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 . . .

Just Put It On My Tab

2007-11-30T18:48:00.000-06:00

Once again, it's going to be a long year:

http://wcbstv.com/politics/rudy.giuliani.judith.2.598465.html

OK, so ole Rudy has 24 hour security, due to the myriad of death threats he was receiving at the time from disgruntled mobsters, hookers, and smokers in the Big Apple. For this reason, when Giuliani visited his lady friend in the Hampton's, security joined him.

Reasonable?

I guess so.

However the $34,000 security tab was billed to the New York City loft board.

I'm not sure if the loft board was reimbursed. I found two different accounts of this story: one said yes the other said yeah right.

Maybe he should have just asked the former Ms. Nathan to visit him at Gracie Mansion?

Oh, that's right-- he couldn't. Part of his separation agreement from Donna Hanover was his girl Judy couldn't enter the home of his estranged wife and children.

Does anyone find it incredibly ironic that this is the candidate leading the party known for "family values"? His own freakin' children won't campaign for him.

I don't know what else to say. I'm glad I'm not "allowed" to vote. This here's slim pickins.

I don't pretend to be an ordinary cat.

OK, Seriously, This Time I'm for Real

The Cat is Back

George Bush's Gut

The Meaning of Life

What a Bunch of Boobs

In Memorium

A Village of 100

Happy Holidays

The Soulless Eyes of Reality Television

Good Hair ROCKS (kinda)

Other Topics Regarding Vampire Sex

Recession My Ass and Other Points of Interest

If James Bond Brought Me Flowers . . .

Vampires and the Shelf Life of Biscotti

Hissing Black Cats and Other Topics

Kidnapped

Totally Random Moment

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

Chuckalicious

The Limbaugh Kidnapping

Colin and Ike-- Although Unrelated

We Survived Immanent Death and Destruction

Ike: We've Gotta Get Back to Our Originally Scheduled Programs

Our House in the Middle of Our Street

How I Spent My Summer (or Diary of a Nasty Housing Market)

A Dream Destroyed

My Former Town Mondays (Hopefully)

"I looked for an answer to my question. But reason could not give me an answer-reason is incommensurable with the question."

Victoria Osteen Gave Me Hemorrhoids

It's Been a Long Time, Rush Limbaugh

The Mexican Divorce No Longer

What the Chuck???

Rush Limbaugh and the Celebrated Stalker

"Pimple on the Arse of Journalism"

Tim Russert is No Ordinary Cat

Rush Limbaugh at Studio 54

Operation Rush Limbaugh: We Shall Perservere

Updates on Operation Rush Limbaugh

Rush Limbaugh Engulfed in Flames

Schools Out for Summer, but not for Rush Limbaugh

Operation Rush Limbaugh

Rush Limbaugh is a Spirit in the Material World

Little Pig, Little Pig has nothing to do with Rush Limbaugh

Karen's Mom is not Rush Limbaugh

Rush Limbaugh: in the Midst of Chaos

Achy Breaky Skanky

Don't Exploit the Hookers

So Goes My Fabulous Self

I am Uplifted

What's in a name???

If You Don't Go to Class . . .

I was a 22-year-old Sex Worker

Annie Show Your Bra Off

Norwegian Terrorists

Dawn is One Fabulous Cat

Give Me Freedom or Expect Trouble

Naked Garage Ladies and Hillary Clinton

2007: A Year in Quotes

Myspace ain't Yourspace

Another Fabulous Winner

The Vacuum Solution

Phlem: It's nature's way of saying: "Dude, you're sick."

Superbowl Sunday

And the Winner is . . .

Other Thoughts on Ass Hats

It's Nacho Cheese, Please

A Myriad of Things

Crazygate

I Would Like to Thank the Academy

The Epistles of Chuck

Hit Me Baby One More Time is Probably the Problem

White Trash Theater: A Play in Two Acts

Rush Limbaugh's Cat

And a Merry Christmas to all . . .

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

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

Tis the Season of Six to Eight Black Men

Good Night and Good Luck

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