OK, Seriously, This Time I'm for Real

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)

Operation Rush Limbaugh: We Shall Perservere

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?