And the Winner is . . .

When I won my blogging award last week, I was supposed to pass it on to five others.

I couldn't decide who to award, being so many important blogs out there in cyberland.

However, I take my obligations within the blogging community quite seriously. At the same time, my ability to follow directions is lacking.

What do you people expect? I'm a cat. We are not designed to do what people request. That would just be ridiculous.

So, of course, I changed the rules.

Weekly (or whenever I please) I will award a fellow blogger with a "You are no ordinary cat award".

Here are the rules:

1. You must post said award.

2. You must write an acceptance speech. You may steal speech from wherever, I really don't care. But you must post one.

3. You must send me your first born child.

Actually, Karen told me to scratch number three. She said we really didn't want a bunch of first born children running around here. It would crimp our bachelorette style.

If you do not follow the rules of the award, I will send Sadie to your house after feeding her a galloon of milk and a twelve pound bag of kitty treats. Trust me, you really don't want to incur this wrath.

My first award goes to my dear friend Robyn from Robyn's Nest.

Her link is to the right.

Why, do you ask, does Robyn get the first award?

The answer to this is quite simple: Robyn, a famous fashion designer, I'm assuming who works for Chanel, made me a poncho.

She's the only one who sends me gifts. So she gets the first award.

Are you crying foul? Sadie runs the complaint department. She's illiterate. Good luck with that.

Anyway, Robyn just opened an Esty Store. You should stop by and purchase a bunch of her ever so fabulous crafty stuff. Eventually, I'm will pose in an ad for this store. Robyn is working on persuading Steven Meisel to take the pictures and everything.

Anyway, that's all I have today. I'm going to bed as Karen is sick and she told me that if I wake her tonight for any reason other than a homocidal maniac running through the house, she would send me to live with evil Jeff.

Empty threat

Solicitors and Metallica

I received a comment in Spanish asking me to post a link to a site selling t-shirts. That is, I think that's what the comment was requesting-- since I don't speak fluent Spanish and had to rely on context clues, I really don't know this for sure. This is the first comment I have not posted.

I decided I should develop some guidelines for links/ comments I will publish. Here are the rules according to me, Penelope the Cat, about posting:
1. All postings must be in English. It's nothing personal. I exclusively speak English, and I don't want to post anything strange unless I understand what strange thing I am indeed posting.

2. By posting links for products, it is my belief I would be endorsing said product. Since I expect you to take my endorsements seriously, I only endorse things I know about. For instance, I would definitely endorse Robyn's Poncho, for it's soft feel and bright pink color. I would never endorse the ear drops I have to take once a week to keep my ears "clean". (Stupid Karen)

3. One of the beautiful concepts of a blog is the lack of guidelines. Thus, I don't have to publish anything I so choose not to publish. Beautiful, isn't it? Basically, that's my philosophy: I will publish what I damn well want to publish. Disagree with this premise? Too bad so sad-- Sadie is in charge of complaints and concerns. She's illiterate-- good luck getting a response from her!

What about freedom of speech, you ask? Well my friends, I'm a cat. I have no voting rights (bastards Americans-- so superior). Therefore why should I follow your societal rules? If you want friggin' freedom of speech my suggestion would be for you to get your own friggin' blog.

Anyway, I read this a couple of days ago and had a laugh:

http://news.aol.com/entertainment/music/story/_a/hetfield-held-up-for-taliban-beard/20070709082409990001

I saw the picture of Hetfield with the beard. My first observation was the gray.

The mighty have aged.

Furthermore, he reminded me more of Ashley Wilks or Charles Hamilton in Gone with the Wind than of a Taliban member. I guess the Taliban could be recruiting whomever, but middle aged white dude heavy metal heroes?

I don't know . . .

It happens. Say what you will about "profiling", but I would like to know why Hetfield was detained as a risk.

What are the factors?

A beard???

This is a little ridiculous.

To their credit, the airport officials quickly released the dude when they realized the mistake. So no, Hetfield is not on his way to Guantanamo for torture and testing.

All is good. And this ridiculous didn't even happen in Texas.

Go 'Stros