The Limbaugh Kidnapping

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

O.J. Simpson

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

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

Open Letter to Rush Limbaugh

Dear Mr. Limbaugh:

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

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

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

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

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

-- P

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

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

It didn't work.

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

Her dad said:

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

"Why can't we watch a western?"

So much for that, I guess.

More on Karen

Karen wants me to start posting pictures of her house.

Like a lot of them

All of the time.

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

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

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

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

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

Go 'Stros

A Dream Destroyed

I have a really big problem:

Karen

She's totally messing up my system.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever

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

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

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

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

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.

Toxic

Last week I stayed at Karen's parents house. It's a great place to be (lots of windows and furniture to hide under, not to mention several WINDOW SEATS upstairs), but their computer is dead, so I had no Internet access. Thus, no posting and I missed SO MUCH.

Actually, I missed the VMAs. Evidently it was in interesting night:

1. Britney Spears practically naked debacle
Not much to say here. MTV should be ashamed of themselves, taking advantage of a very obviously mentally ill individual. I would boycott them, but I don't watch MTV.
Oh well . . .

2. The Tommy Lee/ Kid Rock's Skirmish
I've seen more sophistication standing outside the firework stands in a red, white and blue bikini. Geez guys you're rich, famous and live in Los Angeles: can't you each find your own "enhanced" skank to hang out with and leave ole Pam alone?

3. Kanye West's Sour Grapes
You know what, Susan Lucci was nominated for best actress in a soap on whatever award show soap opera queens attend, about a million times and didn't win until quite recently. Did she whine and complain? No. Suck it up, Kanye. Stop being so bitter. I almost liked your crazy self during the Hurricane Katrina relief thing, but this is just petty.

Does anyone else find it odd that MTV is hosting the VIDEO MUSIC Awards? From what I've heard, MTV doesn't show much in the area of music videos anymore.

Whatever.

But that was last week. Now we've got O.J. Simpson to discuss.

I love O.J. He defied justice and got away with a double murder. Now he's been accused of robbing a Vegas hotel room, or more technically: "Robbery with a Deadly Weapon". He could face up to 35 years PER COUNT in the poky.

I'd love to say more about this. But I've decided to wait until more information comes out this week.

So stay tuned, readers, stay tuned.