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

Small Ones, Victoria Beckham, and the Paparazzi-- All at Karen's Parents House

Karen brought Sadie and I over to her parent's house. I don't know why-- she just did.

Whatever.

Anyway, it was just a normal visit.

That is, until Karen showed me the Halloween costumes her mother made for Sadie and I.


Oh, for the love of God.

I'm a cat, for crying out loud. I don't wear a costume for Halloween. This isn't one of those issues in which I'm willing to compromise, either, like don't torture Sadie on Sundays. I have my principles, which include no cavorting around dressed like a ninny. So, no, come Wednesday night I WILL NOT be answering the door, handing out the candy to the little urchins dressed like Hannah Montana or the like.

"Oh, Penelope, you look so cute," Karen said as she dressed me, much to my mortification.

Karen will get hers. She might not know when or where, but she'll get hers.

That's bad enough, right? Well it gets worse.

Saturday afternoon other people came over to visit, bringing with them "small ones". Evil Jeff brought his small one, that woman who typically brings Toby the dog brought her small one, another lady brought her small one, who wasn't particularly small, which seemed to be an ongoing joke, and her larger small one, who has no fear of God (or me) whatsoever.

Don't get me wrong, I understand the attraction to these small ones. They are cute and smell nice, that is, unless they are vomiting or defecating on themselves. However, one day I see them and they are cute small ones who don't move around much. The next day I see them and they are quite mobile, pulling my tail, poking my eyes, and eating my food.

See my point?

Finally, I escaped to the stairwell. Typically, this is a safety zone, as most people don't want their small ones running up and down the stairs. But then came another problem:

The paparazzi.

Somehow the paparazzi joined us at this event. I didn't recall seeing Britney Spears or Victoria Beckham waltzing through the door. Perhaps they were in disguise. Whatever. But these neerdowells were in full force, predominately taking pictures of the small ones.

One of the paparazzi evidently heard I was in attendance at the party. She attempted to take my picture with a cell phone. Obviously, I don't work with the Paparazzi. Thus as she approached me I hissed at her. She then backed off a little and told Karen (And exactly what is Karen supposed to do-- does anyone think Karen can keep me from speaking my mind? Hasn't happened yet . . .), who started griping at me about being "rude".

"It wouldn't hurt you to cooperate, every once in a while."

But it would be wrong somehow, don't you think?

Anyway, that was my weekend. I'm still recovering. So I'm off to bed.