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)
Friday, November 27, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
The Cat is Back
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)
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)
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
George Bush's Gut
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
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
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The Meaning of Life
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
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
Sunday, January 11, 2009
What a Bunch of Boobs
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.
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.
Monday, January 5, 2009
In Memorium
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.
Friday, January 2, 2009
A Village of 100
Karen from her boss. She thought it would be nice for me to share it instead of discussing Charles Barkley's DUI. :
Go 'Stros
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
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
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Happy Holidays
We have several of issues on the agenda today, so let's get to it:
SUV Mama
First of all, my good friend Jessica, aka "The SUV Driving Bitch Your Mother Warned You About" has restricted her blog to invitation only.
Well, I want an invitation.
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???
Sunday, December 21, 2008
The Soulless Eyes of Reality Television
Karen and I decided to have a nice relaxing Sunday. We're both extremely busy with our respective careers: Karen educating the future of America and me organizing a plan for world domination (and of course napping).
Anyway
Let me tell you what we did:
Six a.m.: Karen wakes up. She decides to not physically get out of bed.
Seven a.m.: The alarm on Karen's cell phone goes off, playing the intro to "Enter Sandman" (it's loud and obnoxious-- don't judge). Unfortunately, Karen did not put the phone on the charger by her nightstand. It was on the bar in the kitchen.
7:01 a.m.: Karen turns off alarm on cell phone. Karen gets back into bed because it is cold. She brings with her the latest edition of Vanity Fair to read under the covers.
7:15 a.m.: Karen stumbles into the bathroom. Before she can shut the door, Sadie bolts out from underneath the bed and I scurry behind her and dive into the bathtub, hoping Karen will give us a drink from the faucet.
7:16 a.m.: Karen mumbles something about "privacy" and "entitlement", but turns on the water in the tub anyway.
7:18 a.m.: Karen gets back into bed with her magazine. I join her a few minutes later.
8:30 a.m.: Karen decides she wants coffee. However, it is cold outside of her cocoon in bed.
8:45 a.m.: Karen still has a hankering for coffee. Interestingly enough, Karen does not drink coffee, at least not "real" coffee that tastes, well, like coffee. It must be flavored. Anyway, Karen doesn't even keep coffee at home, which means getting coffee requires a run to Starbucks, to buy a cup of coffee equal to the price of a small coffee plantation in Venezuela.
9:45 a.m.: Karen drives to the local Starbucks and buys the middle size carmel machiato (sp???). She uses one of the four Starbucks gift cards she got for Christmas presents from kids at school.
10:45 a.m: Karen returns home with her coffee. She plops down on the couch, again with the Vanity Fair, for the duration. I join her, at least for a nap.
Eleven a.m.: Karen turns the television on to discover amazing reality television on Bravo! in the form of The Rachel Zoe Project. Have any of you seen this? Lemme give you the lowdown:
Rachel Zoe is a 37- year- old celebrity stylist. She talks like an aging valley girl (which, quite frankly, if valley girls hailed from New Jersey she actually would be an aging valley girl), I'm guessing she's no stranger to Botox, and wears sunglasses perpetually. My assumption regarding the shades is that she must be afflicted by some serious eye disorder which will lead to sudden blindness.
It couldn't possibly be that her eyes are a dead giveaway to the lack of a soul.
Anyway
Ole Rachel has two assistants: a girl named Taylor who is so strung out that I'm a little amazed someone hasn't wailed on her yet and this dude name Brad who cries.
I'm totally not joking.
Brad is a crier.
Basically, from the two episodes of this show we watched, the whole premise is Taylor freaks out because of something she wants ole Brad to do and didn't tell him and Brad gets whiny and upset and tells Rachel. Rachel, who is completely monotoned and I'm thinking might not have a pulse, starts rambling and, quite frankly, does not deal with the problem at hand, which is perhaps finding a pharmacist to medicate ole Taylor.
Noon: Karen is hungry. Karen makes herself a sandwich:
This is Karen's hanging out at home sandwich recipe:
One half piece of naan bread
Four strips of Turkey bacon
Several pieces of avocado
Preheat the oven to broil. Cook bread to desired level of toastiness. Cook turkey bacon on stove to desired crispness. Cut one slice of said bacon into pieces and put on small plate from Tiffany's for cat. Cut up desired amount of avocado. Place bacon, avocado on bread. Fold over. And now you've got your super awesome sandwich.
12:30 a.m.: Karen eats her lunch, continues to read her Vanity Fair, and watch crap on Bravo!.
One p.m.: A new show begins which we watch for the duration of the afternoon: The Real Housewives of Orange County. Now we've known about this piece of crap for a couple of years and, to be honest, one of Karen's dirty little secrets is that she does on occasion watch it. However, due to our busy fall, we were not aware that a new season had begun.
This show is like a bad traffic accident one cannot stop watching. I've never seen such horrible people in my life. It's just great.
For those of you who aren't aware of The Real Housewives of Orange County let me give you the lowdown: it's a reality show about the lives of these women, whose name I may or may not spell correctly:
Geena: Geena is a real estate agent and must do pretty well because her new bedding cost roughly $8,000. Anyway, she was a Playmate in the eighties and her husband, a former baseball player, is a complete asshole. They are separated but Geena is a doormat and has let him move back in until he finds himself a new place.
Whatever
Lauri: Lauri has been married three times. (FYI: most of these women are working on husband number two or three.) She just married a very rich dude who has four kids. Lauri is beautiful and looks like she's had some significant "engineering" as well.
Vicki: Ole Vicki is a piece of work. She is a workaholic. She is crazy as a loon. Her kids are very passive aggressive, I'm guessing because their mother is, well, nuts. She's loud, bossy, and opinionated, which I guess makes her idea for reality television.
Tamra: Tamra is one of those women you know was easy in high school. You just know. Anyway, she's entertaining because she's just so trampy.
Gretchen: Gretchen is thirty. Her fiance is 53 and looks about 103. This would be really comical except he has leukemia.
Cancer just sucks all the fun out of that relationship.
She talks frequently about her "real" boobs. The other women act like she's a freak because she has "real" boobs, as opposed to, well, whatever is floating around in their Diane VonFurstenburg (sp???) wrap dresses.
I might be missing someone and I'm not inclined to continue thinking about it, so watch the show. It's super awesome in a truly evil way.
2:30 p.m.: Karen feels guilty about spending the afternoon watching crap on T.V. So she does some laundry while continuing to watch crap on T.V.
Four p.m.: Housewives marathon ends. Karen begins reading her book.
Six p.m.: We begin watching Dan in Real Life. This was a pretty good movie. Sadie even joined us to watch it.
Eight p.m.:We are now watching The Three Amigos. All is good with the world.
So that was our day at home.
Isn't it wonderful? Tomorrow or Wednesday (whatever Karen decides she so inclined to do) we are going to Babs and Johnny's house. I'm excited about this because I haven't been there since the move. I'll be Babs probably has our bed all ready for us, with kitty treats on the pillow and everything.
The only problem is Chuck. Probably he'll be there. Karen told me I had to be nice to Chuck, it being Christmas and all. She said the same thing about fourth of July.
Whatever
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
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Good Hair ROCKS (kinda)
My open letter to Governor Rick Perry of the great state of Texas:
Dear Governor Perry:
Over the last couple of years, you have been the topic of conversation within my blog. We call you good hair because you basically look like a local news anchor who doesn't smile. We ran the clip of you saying "adios mofo" to the Texas congressman on local television (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=obLGOITasek&feature=related) because it was funny. Those are just the things I can think of without going to much effort. I'm sure we've done other things, such as, well, not voting for you, but that's another story.
Of course, I can't vote, as you people have seen it fit to not allow cats to vote in this "great" country. I'm blaming the Republican party for this form of discrimination, by the way. I'm sure now that Obama, the messiah and savior of democracy in the modern world, will see it fit to allow me to vote, and then we'll see how all of this evolves, bucko!!!
But I digress. . .
Last week while the world sat in fascination of what a complete DUMBASS this Blagojevich character must be, I had an epiphany: we have been really nasty to ole good hair and for what? No one is wire tapping the governor's mansion and recording you trying to sell a senate seat. You don't use the "n" word (or at least to my knowledge-- although that tape with you and the state trooper was kinda nasty), and you aren't attempting to extort newspapers and fire the editors who don't like you. Heck, even your approval rating is higher than four percent.
So anyway, I'd like to thank you for swimming in mediocrity as of now and not getting into any ridiculous trouble.
Adios Mofo,
P (the cat)
And now we have an open letter to Senator Kay Bailey Hutchinson, Senior Senator from the great state of Texas
Dear Senator Hutchinson:
You are needed in congress. Do not run for governor.
This does not have anything to do with love for Good Hair. Just stay in DC. You rock.
P (the cat)
Can We Talk About the Weather?
Get this: Wednesday it was 28 degrees outside. Snow flurries were all about.
I could not make this up.
Karen's parents' front yard was covered with snow, or so we hear. We got nuthin'.
Considering that Tuesday afternoon it was seventy degrees outside, the "snow" did not stay "snow", if you know what I mean. But this is the gulf coast, and we have to take what we can get.
Canadians, please do not mock our enjoyment of this "snow". We know this is absurd and we simply do not care. The last time we got snow was in like 2004. Last winter Karen didn't even bring out her winter coat. I'm pretty sure shorts could have been worn to Christmas dinner.
An Ethical Dilemma
Karen and I watched Saturday Night Live last night and laughed until we cried at the Governor Paterson skit.
Is it wrong to make fun of a blind dude?
What if the blind dude is governor who was appointed after the elected governor was busted for trying to pay a hooker with money from his checking account?
What if the blind dude had to make a statement days after taking office regarding his history with cocaine and ladies other than his wife, so no one would bring it up to the media later on?
Oh, and by the way: SNL you owe Karen some royalties-- she made the comment about the Governor Paterson thing being like a bad Richard Pryor movie last year.
Go 'Stros
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
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Other Topics Regarding Vampire Sex
No, I am not writing today about vampire sex. I don't think vampires "do it". I could be wrong about this, but I think it falls into the same category as food consumption. Vampires, to my limited knowledge anyway, don't eat either.
I'm just looking for more hits. It's kinda like what I did with ole Rush Limbaugh a while back.
And Speaking of Ole Rushbo
Did you know that he was one of Barbara Walter's "Ten Most Fascinating People"? I don't know how "fascinating" he is, but allegedly he's got like a kajillion listeners daily.
We here at I don't pretend to be an ordinary cat think that ole Rush owes us some thanks. If it weren't for the blog probably he'd have fewer listeners. And most likely Barbara Walters wouldn't even know his name. After all, I'm still getting lots of hits regarding Rush Limbaugh's Cat.
You know he reads the blog, right? When I mention his name I magically get hits out of Palm Beach, Florida, where he lives.
I would like it if Mr. Limbaugh would comment.
I won't bite, Mr. Limbaugh, I PROMISE. . .
Anyway, I got a lot to talk about so hold on. . .
The Tree
In my last post I failed to mention whether or not Karen bought the tree. The answer to this question is, yes, Karen did indeed purchase the Christmas tree.
I don't like it as much as our old one or the tree at Karen's parents' house. First of all, Karen bought one of those trees in a pot that stand quite tall and narrow. It is impossible for me to hide underneath and jump out at people, biting them on the ankles, the one thing I enjoy most about the Christmas season.
Second, Karen told me originally that she would put the tree in the entry hall. I was totally excited about this, as it meant I could attack people as they entered the house. But no, Karen decided to put the tree in the corner of the living room.
"It's a good place for a Christmas tree, Penelope," she told me. "And it's rude, not to mention embarrassing, to attack the guests anyway."
Whatever, by now they should know it's coming.
PLAXICO: The Most Awesome News Story Since Victoria Osteen had a Histrionic Fit on the Airplane
Are you people following this?
Actually there isn't anything to really follow. It's just funny.
CNN ran a commentary this morning regarding ole Plaxico, and the journalist didn't quite comprehend why, during this time of chaos, disaster and economic turmoil, the media would obsess over this news story.
Well, I can tell you why: it is FUNNY.
The dude goes into a nightclub, packing heat, puts the gun in the waistband of his sweatpants, and it goes off, shooting him in the thigh.
First of all, who wears sweatpants to a nightclub? That's just tacky.
Second of all, what DUMBASS puts a gun in an elastic waistband anyway?
Third, NO ONE noticed the events as they unfolded. The dude was able to get to the ER, lie about what happened, and give them a fake name before all hell broke loose.
In my expert opinion, Plaxico won at a game of Russian roulette with Darwin, who was aiming for something other than his thigh and missed. It's called survival of the fittest, my friends, and Plaxico clearly doesn't need to reproduce.
Vampires and Such
I just finished Twilight not that long ago.
I got bored at the end.
I'm not getting some stuff. This might be because I'm a cat and am far superior to you human being types. But regardless, if you have the answers, please enlighten me.
Question One:
Why would anyone hang out with a vampire? Even an allegedly "good" vampire. They kill humans somewhat arbitrarily. It isn't personal. I'm sure there are very nice vampires who are pleasant and such. But still they are quite homicidal by nature.
Question Two:
Edward is freakin' moody. I get that teenager girls dig that, but why? I asked Karen this and she didn't have much of an answer, other than "an appreciation for the self loathing". Whatever.
Question Three:
OK, are any of you people vampire book experts? Of the few I've read it seems that the vampires are all haunted by something from their mortal past. I've also noticed they are frequently either flaming gay or leaning that way. Regardless, all literary vampires are beautiful (what is the other perk of vampireness, I guess.) What is my question? I don't remember. Am I right about this???
Facebook is Putting a Cramp in My Style
Freaking Karen is now on Facebook. She is also addicted to Facebook, thus using the computer far too often so I can't do what I want to do.
"Am I not gone from 6:30 in the morning until four or five every evening?" she yelled at me waving her hands all about. "Get off your ass and stop sleeping sixteen hours and blog during the day."
Whatever. That's not when I want to blog. I want to blog, well, when I want to blog. I think Karen should appriciate this.
My biggest concern is that in two weeks Karen will be gone for Christmas vacation. So then I guess I'm really screwed.
Karen should just get me my own computer. She laughed at the suggestion, by the way.
Whatever
Go 'Stros
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Recession My Ass and Other Points of Interest
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
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
If James Bond Brought Me Flowers . . .
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
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Vampires and the Shelf Life of Biscotti
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 . . .
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 . . .
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Hissing Black Cats and Other Topics
All I can say is this: at least I got sequins.
Anyway, happy belated Halloween. I answered the door for trick or treaters. It was kind of fun sitting in the window, waiting for the kiddoes to arrive.
"I expect you to be on your best behavior," Karen told me. "That means no hissing."
Oh for crying out loud it's Halloween. I think a hissing black cat is highly appropriate.
Back in redneck hell we didn't get too many trick or treaters. One or two at best. Interestingly enough, more Halloweens than not Karen was called out of town for work, so most of our Halloween experiences have been at Karen's parent's house. Last year she was at a conference in Austin, the year before she was at a conference in Los Angeles, the year before that she was, well, at a very crazy Halloween party hosted by one of her nutty teacher friends. This year we are staying at home and answering the door.
A Change in Plans
OK, as you know I started posting the "Colin Firth Moment of the Week" about a month ago. I was changing out the clips on Sunday, but since I was kidnapped Saturday, it didn't happen last week. Anyway, that misstep gave me an idea:
Firth Fridays
Every Friday I will change out the clip instead, hence the name "Firth Fridays".
Like you people give a rat's ass. Whatever. Let me tell you about this clip from the movie Love Actually.
Karen loves this clip and calls it "romantic" and "wonderful". However, I personally find it "creepy" and "ill advised".
To begin with, she doesn't know the dude. Yeah, he's British and Colin Firth, but this is a movie and she doesn't know that. She doesn't even speak his language. He could have been asking/ telling her all kinds of things, like "are you into stamps?" or "I collect pieces of human flesh" while she cleaned house smiling so sweetly.
"Colin would never do that," Karen replied to the idea of the Firth being a stamp collecting serial killer. "It's simply impossible."
And exactly how would she know???
Other Issues
I know you people are waiting with baited breath about my take on the Madonna thing.
No really?
Madonna and Guy Richie are splitting up?
I'm so totally shocked.
Personally, if I were Guy I would have held out a little longer. With no prenump he easily could have gotten $300 million.
Whatever
Right now they are fighting over custody. Madonna wants to take the kiddoes to New York and Guy wants them to continue living in London.
I think the team of 24/7 nannies/ housekeepers/ whoever should make the decision.
Da Book Business
We are now about ninety percent unpacked. Last weekend Karen tackled probably the most difficult part of the unpacking process: the books.
21 boxes of books Karen brought to our new house.
She organized by alpha order this time. Last time Karen had a complicated system of genre then alpha. It was too much so we went totally alpha order.
Karen would personally like to thank all of those people who over the years borrowed books and didn't return them. Otherwise, we might be closer to thirty boxes.
Anyway, I hope all is good with you guys. Sorry I haven't been around as much as of late. I'm going to start being a little more diligent with the posting.
Go 'Stros
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Kidnapped
Have you missed me?
Well, I haven't had the opportunity to post as last Saturday as I was kidnapped.
Yes, kidnapped
By Karen
First she kidnapped Sadie. Innocently taking a nap in the guest room, Karen grabbed her and shoved Sadie in her carrier. I knew at that moment I needed to stay sparse. But Sadie kept whining as Karen loaded other things into her car. It got on my nerves, so I walked downstairs to tell Sadie off. Then it happened:
Karen grabbed me and took me immediately to the car.
She continued to pack random things (including Sadie) and then we headed off. I protested the entire distance, pointing out that I expressly stated on a number of occasions that I had no intention of moving and that if Karen didn't take me back to her parent's house I would be forced to call the authorities.
Karen laughed at me. She simply doesn't take me seriously.
Anyway, we got to the new house and I looked around. It doesn't have stairs. How am I supposed to get my cardio? However, it has awesome windows and a tiled entry hall for naps.
Everything is basically unpacked. We are enjoying things and plan to post pictures soon. Right now I know I have other obligations to fulfill with you guys so let's move on . . .
Obama Overdose
I didn't watch the infomercial tonight.
Does that make me a horrible cat?
Quite frankly, I don't care anymore.
I Got Nothin'
Anyway, I'm exhausted. I gotta go
Go 'Stros
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
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Totally Random Moment
I'm watching SNL.
I simply CANNOT tell the real Sarah Palin from Tina Fey.
It's freaking me out.
I simply CANNOT tell the real Sarah Palin from Tina Fey.
It's freaking me out.
You Can Do It. We Can Help-- Once We Get Over the Munchies
Karen this morning bought a refrigerator for the new house at one of the typical places one might purchase a refrigerator, particularly if one plans to use it in one's HOME.
She very quickly found what she wanted. However, no salesman was to be found.
So she waited.
And waited
And waited
Finally, Karen sauntered over the kitchen cabinet section, where she found four people sitting around a desk area.
"Hello," she said to the group. "Could I purchase a refrigerator? Like right now?"
Three of them looked over to a guy about fifty, who walked with a limp and had a very obvious tattoo of an anchor on his forearm. He followed Karen towards the refrigerator of her choice.
"Would you like me to tell you about this one or would you just prefer to make the purchase?" he asked.
In all honesty, Karen did not need to hear his speech on this particular unit. However, she happened to noticed that the guy smelled like marijuana. After carefully weighing her options, Karen decided to get the full sales experience from the stoned dude.
At minimum, it would be an AWESOME story to tell her friends at work on Monday.
Anyway, so the salesman told her all about the features: the ledge on the butter dish, which keeps things from falling off, the lock on the ice and water dispenser so that little kids don't flood the house, etc.
"So do you have a husband?" he asked Karen.
"No, not so much," she replied.
"OK, I'm going to pick on you now: let's say your girlfriend spills something on the shelf . . ."
At this point Karen stopped listening. So now, because she's not married, Karen is a lesbian?
Obviously he's one of the few Americans who doesn't read the blog.
Granted, this is Texas, but what century does this character live in?
Once again, Karen weighs her options. She could be weirded out, drive seven miles down the road to another store which sells HOME appliances, to buy the same refrigerator, but again, I've trained Karen to recognize wonderful moments in comedy. Thus, she stuck around.
Anyway, the stoned guy took Karen back to the desk area to complete paperwork. He had a lot of trouble entering her address and getting the delivery time and date, mainly, I guess because he was STONED.
At one point he asked for Karen's driver's license.
"Oh, look at that. You look so pretty in that picture," he told her. "You must of just gotten out of bed."
I could not make this up. Yes, Karen was just told she looked bad by a dude with an anchor tattoo and visible nose hairs.
"Dude, I'm at Home Depot and clearly you are not Mr. Blackwell," Karen said indignantly.
Actually, that's not what Karen said. Karen only comes up with smart ass comments like two hours after she needs them. In reality, Karen just looked at him like "What a dumb ass".
So Karen bought a refrigerator.
From a stoned dude
Who thought Karen was a lesbian
With visible nose hairs
Who clearly has not attended any form of sales training
Karen now has a question for you, my readers of discriminating taste:
She's been selected to complete a "customer satisfaction survey" online. She's planning on doing it, as she'd be entered into a sweepstakes to win a $5,000 gift certificate.
How forthcoming should Karen be in this case?
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?
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Chuckalicious
Ohmigosh, have I had a weekend:
Karen's mother's birthday was Wednesday. Thus, I feel compelled to write her a somewhat belated birthday letter:
Dear Karen's Mom:
I wanted to wish you a happy birthday and tell you thanks for all of the things you do for Sadie and me when Karen is slacking on her duties as house manager. When Karen heads off for work and doesn't fill the our bowl, leaving me to eat what touches the plastic dish, you always step in and take care of business. Truly, I appreciate that more than you know.
As my birthday present to you, I have decided to honor you with my undying gratitude and admiration. I told Karen to buy you a Mercedes, but she said that you wanted a tree for the backyard instead. I suggested an orchard, but she said you weren't the "orchard" type.
Truthfully, I think that's code for Karen is cheap and lazy. You really should have raised her better. But what can you do?
Anyway, we hope your birthday is lovely. Sadie and I think you are fabulous.
-- P
Guess Who's Coming to Dinner
He's baaack. . .
Chuck
The Chuckster
Chuck a luck a luckster.
I think Chuck is addicted to methanphetomines. His eyes are bloodshot and he's always moving around fast and erratically. I really don't think Karen's parents should allow a known drug addict into their home. I mean what if he starts burning the Sudafed to get a fix? I read somewhere that meth is highly flammable and dangerous. I can't have our house exploding, like on one of those tabloid news shows. After all, I'm Penelope the Cat, I have a reputation to uphold.
"Chuck is not a meth addict," Karen told me. "He's bug eyed so stuff irritates his eyes easily and for crying out loud he's a puppy. Stop judging him."
Whatever.
"And don't be going online and telling all your blog friends that Chuck is a meth addict. That's not responsible journalism."
Too late
Furthermore, he ate some of my food. Actually, he ate a lot of my food. I know this because he left dog stench and slobber all over.
He also sat in my chair.
That dog has some nerve. Thankfully, he's leaving Monday morning, so I'll have some peace and quiet.
Sadie is ready for him to go as well. She's taken a liking to Karen's mom and they to the crossword puzzle together in the evenings. When Chuck is here, Sadie does not feel particularly comfortable curling up on the couch with the evening paper.
I don't think he's sanitary either. One of the first things he did when he got in town Saturday afternoon was crap all over the living room. You should have seen it. He left poop on the floor, on the rug, by the back door. I've never seen so much crap in my life that wasn't confined in my litter box, of course.
Anyway, all is pretty good with my world right now. O.J. Simpson got convicted of stealing sports crap. Saturday Night Live hasn't had political sketches this good since, well, ever. And Karen and I are upstairs in our room. She is grading papers and I am sitting quietly with watching Ironman on her DVD player. Sadie is in the bathroom chillin in the sink. And for some weird reason my computer is not letting me paragraph break. Freakin' Crazy. Go 'Stros.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
The Limbaugh Kidnapping
My Favorite News Story that I Missed Due to Ike sans Tina:
O.J. Simpson
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
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