The news right now is very boring. I am tired of HillBilly, Barack or Barry, or whoever.
But I caught this story right out of jolly old London and I totally think it's great:
http://blogs.telegraph.co.uk/politics/threelinewhip/june2008/borisalcoholban.htm
Evidently, up until the beginning of this month it was perfectly OK to drink in the London subway. I was not aware of this. Although I've never been to London, I can't imagine that it would be a good idea to drink openly on public transportation.
Maybe that's just my puritanical American side coming out, I don't know.
Anyway, some Londoners, celebrating the "last days of disco" and posting it on YouTube, made the public transportation a real adventure. Some of the footage is put to Abba's "Dancing Queen" and some of the footage is just raw.
In the background of some of the footage you can hear drunken Londoners shouting "Boris is a wanker". (Boris Johnson is the mayor of London).
That's classy.
I wonder what Bridget Jones would say about this?
Anyway, so if you were planning a trip abroad this summer, just remember, leave you liquor back at the hotel, as you can't consume in the tunnel.
Sex and the City . . . Not So Much???
I read somewhere that the Sex and the City Movie, which was the number one grossing movie its premiere weekend, has an audience of 85 percent women.
Why is this surprising?
What surprises me is how passionately men feel about:
a. Not seeing this movie
b. Sarah Jessica Parker being positively unattractive
Actually, I get A. It was a television show geared to women; why would the movie be any different? Karen, who saw all of two episodes during the entire run of the series, isn't planning on seeing the movie because she never identified with the characters.
"It's like the seventies came back and bought expensive shoes," Karen pointed out, regarding the promiscuity.
Operation Rush Limbaugh
OK, I'm working on the email.
Does anyone have Mr. Limbaugh's address?
When it's finished I'll be sure to let you see it.
Enough about other people who really don't matter-- I want to talk about me
Karen is almost done with the house-- finally.
This has been very uncomfortable for me, by the way. First of all, she's packed up a lot of our stuff. Second, she keeps moving the cat box around the house, so it doesn't "mess up" the part of the house she considers "finished". So basically, when I have to go, I have to hunt down the box. Since the carpet guy is coming Saturday morning, she decided that Sadie and I needed to stay at her parent's house.
I am so put out.
So here I am like a refugee in the home of Karen's parents-- indefinitely. Karen will come and visit half of the time.
"So who will feed us?" I demanded from her before we left. "Who will take care of the box? Who will clean up the Sadie vomit?"
Karen promised her mom would feed us regularly. She also promised to see me at least every day or two and promised that she would clean the box and any vomit that may occur.
On the bright side, Karen's parent's house is four times the size of our old home. They also have lots of places to sunbathe and their bed is set up in a way so that when I crawl under it, Karen can't drag me out easily.
Karen told me that she expected me to "be nice and helpful" during my time visiting. This is obsurd, obviously. First of all, I've never been "nice" at Karen's parent's house. Why should I "be nice" now? It would confuse them. Furthermore, Karen's parents don't want my help any more than I'm willing to offer it. They should be greatful that I'm honoring them with my presence. I'm sure their life will be much more enlightened now that I'm staying with them.
A Request from Karen
Several months ago, Karen read about a saint you were supposed to bury in the yard for good luck when selling the house. Which saint was it? Where can she get one?
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Saturday, June 7, 2008
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?
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?
Friday, June 6, 2008
Updates on Operation Rush Limbaugh
Karen told me that if she could find Mr. Limbaugh's number and if I would stop driving her crazy she would consider calling Mr. Limbaugh today. This meant no fighting with Sadie.
Anyway, check your local radio listings. Limbaugh plays in Houston 11-2. I'm assuming one adjusts this to meet the time zones.
I've given a list of things I want her to say. Anyway . . . those are our morning plans.
Tune in, dear readers, tune in. . .
Anyway, check your local radio listings. Limbaugh plays in Houston 11-2. I'm assuming one adjusts this to meet the time zones.
I've given a list of things I want her to say. Anyway . . . those are our morning plans.
Tune in, dear readers, tune in. . .
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Rush Limbaugh Engulfed in Flames
Dear Canadians:
Yesterday, during a moment of delusion from the heat, I mentioned that Canadians suck. Right now, yes, you Canadians suck. This doesn't me I don't love you, but right now I am freaking hot and well, it is what it is. I am currently sitting in front of the refrigerator waiting for Karen to wander into the kitchen and open the door, so that I can hop inside briefly, or for her to drop a piece of ice onto the floor for my enjoyment.
Granted, I don't go outside. But still it's freaking hot. You guys suck for the next nine months, or until you are knee deep in the misery of snow.
Whichever comes first.
Anyway . . .
Karen is mean.
In our home, we have three pools of water which are constantly full and cold. Karen was working on one of them this afternoon and still would not let me drink out of it. She said that drinking from the device she calls a "toilet" is disgusting. When finished she put the lid down, like always.
It simply isn't fair.
Anyway . . .
Flipping Out
OK, Bravo has this "reality" show about a house flipper who I'm guessing is a tad OCD. That isn't a big deal-- I would think that OCD and house flipping would be complementary. But, oh it gets so much better:
The dude is mean. He's got a crew of assistants who spend most of their time freaking out about being fired, which he's known to do very randomly. He also hires them back a few days later.
Tell me this: what's the point? If you are going fire someone, it's a lot of trouble to hire them back. Lord, if I wanted that kind of drama, I'd fire Karen three times a day.
Anyway, the show is called Flipping Out. Catch it, as it's totally great.
A Funny Thing Happened at Super Target
Have you bought chicken recently?
Karen picked up a package of chicken which read "family farm raised". This struck Karen funny. So basically, the chickens have a lovely family home, that is, until said chicken is decapitated.
Karen mentioned this to the lady behind the chicken counter. She told Karen that she personally buys the free range chicken, since family farm chickens are kept in pens before decapitation, as opposed to the free rangers who get to roam the earth before their decapitation.
How lovely.
I asked Karen about her feelings regarding chickens. Her response was that chickens are called foul for a reason. As long as said chickens weren't pooping on the front porch, she really didn't care.
She did purchase the free rangers, though.
When You are Engulfed in Flames
David Sedaris' new book came out yesterday. I've read the first two essays. So far, it's a riot. I'll let you know more as I get further.
Sedaris was on The Daily Show yesterday. Catch on the repeat.
Operation Rush Limbaugh
OK, we've got more news:
Karen's class didn't make as of today. This means unless they dig up five kids for English, she is free for the summer.
Karen, despite really wanting a new refrigerator, would prefer that five kids not be found for summer school. It's worth 2,000 bucks not to work so she can chill out and drink margaritas in the backyard.
That is, except it's too freaking hot to go outside.
Anyway . . .
If Karen is free, I can't see any reason why she shouldn't spend Friday taking care of Operation Limbaugh. I've mentioned this once again to her. She told me "we'll see", which is better than the "hell no" I expected.
Still haven't mentioned the honorary mistress thing. Once again, we're taking it one step at a time.
I'll be able to give you official notification tomorrow.
So as of now, keep you midday open.
Yesterday, during a moment of delusion from the heat, I mentioned that Canadians suck. Right now, yes, you Canadians suck. This doesn't me I don't love you, but right now I am freaking hot and well, it is what it is. I am currently sitting in front of the refrigerator waiting for Karen to wander into the kitchen and open the door, so that I can hop inside briefly, or for her to drop a piece of ice onto the floor for my enjoyment.
Granted, I don't go outside. But still it's freaking hot. You guys suck for the next nine months, or until you are knee deep in the misery of snow.
Whichever comes first.
Anyway . . .
Karen is mean.
In our home, we have three pools of water which are constantly full and cold. Karen was working on one of them this afternoon and still would not let me drink out of it. She said that drinking from the device she calls a "toilet" is disgusting. When finished she put the lid down, like always.
It simply isn't fair.
Anyway . . .
Flipping Out
OK, Bravo has this "reality" show about a house flipper who I'm guessing is a tad OCD. That isn't a big deal-- I would think that OCD and house flipping would be complementary. But, oh it gets so much better:
The dude is mean. He's got a crew of assistants who spend most of their time freaking out about being fired, which he's known to do very randomly. He also hires them back a few days later.
Tell me this: what's the point? If you are going fire someone, it's a lot of trouble to hire them back. Lord, if I wanted that kind of drama, I'd fire Karen three times a day.
Anyway, the show is called Flipping Out. Catch it, as it's totally great.
A Funny Thing Happened at Super Target
Have you bought chicken recently?
Karen picked up a package of chicken which read "family farm raised". This struck Karen funny. So basically, the chickens have a lovely family home, that is, until said chicken is decapitated.
Karen mentioned this to the lady behind the chicken counter. She told Karen that she personally buys the free range chicken, since family farm chickens are kept in pens before decapitation, as opposed to the free rangers who get to roam the earth before their decapitation.
How lovely.
I asked Karen about her feelings regarding chickens. Her response was that chickens are called foul for a reason. As long as said chickens weren't pooping on the front porch, she really didn't care.
She did purchase the free rangers, though.
When You are Engulfed in Flames
David Sedaris' new book came out yesterday. I've read the first two essays. So far, it's a riot. I'll let you know more as I get further.
Sedaris was on The Daily Show yesterday. Catch on the repeat.
Operation Rush Limbaugh
OK, we've got more news:
Karen's class didn't make as of today. This means unless they dig up five kids for English, she is free for the summer.
Karen, despite really wanting a new refrigerator, would prefer that five kids not be found for summer school. It's worth 2,000 bucks not to work so she can chill out and drink margaritas in the backyard.
That is, except it's too freaking hot to go outside.
Anyway . . .
If Karen is free, I can't see any reason why she shouldn't spend Friday taking care of Operation Limbaugh. I've mentioned this once again to her. She told me "we'll see", which is better than the "hell no" I expected.
Still haven't mentioned the honorary mistress thing. Once again, we're taking it one step at a time.
I'll be able to give you official notification tomorrow.
So as of now, keep you midday open.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Schools Out for Summer, but not for Rush Limbaugh
It's Official
I'm sick and tired of politics.
HillBilly will continue or not. Period. Either way, we don't need to hear day long speculation.
Karen is also boycotting The View, as they spent like FOREVER talking about this and gave Colin Firth all of five minutes.
You don't shorten the Firth's time. That is, unless you want to hear about it from Karen.
Interesting fact: Firth has FIVE movies coming out this summer. Karen is in heaven.
It's Official Again
Karen got a three digit reading on her car thermometer yesterday.
Summer has begun.
Canadians suck.
My Novel About School Teachers
If I ever write a book about teachers, I would include one of the following:
1. Teachers desperately wanting to check out and go home and administrators desperately wanting them to stay until three.
or
2. Administrators desperately wanting to leave and teachers not ready to check out after five minutes of arriving in the building.
Either is pretty funny.
This concept is inspired by Karen, a decade plus veteran of public schools. She's been in three educational settings and this issue has been a small annoyance each year.
Small in that how mad can you be? IT'S THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL!!!
One school let you leave whenever you finished checking out. You got the checkout sheet like a week ahead of time, so you could do some of it early. If you weren't done by ten, someone was out looking for you, tapping their foot impatiently.
Although technically, you had until four.
Another school had a big assembly at eight, which lasted until about tenish (announcing retirees, teachers of the year and such), a breakfast shortly following, and then you got the check out sheets.
And the administrators disappeared
And reappeared for five minutes
And disappeared again
And reappeared for ten minutes
And went to lunch
And the principal wouldn't do the final sign off until three.
I asked Karen which was worse. According to her, although she really wanted to be home by noon, she'd rather spend a few more hours at work than to have someone breathing down her neck being all impatient, as that person booked a flight she should have scheduled later than noon on a workday.
Hypothetically speaking, of course
Other Funny Things About Teachers:
Elementary teachers, as a whole, are perky. At the assemblies announcing important things that happened during the year at individual schools, they do one of the following when anything related to their school is announced:
A. Whoop
B. Stand up and shout
C. Bring instruments, such as cowbells, and use them LOUDLY
They also have a tendency to match.
Karen said it takes too much energy to be an elementary teacher. She says that if she wrote a book about elementary school teachers she'd have someone sampling the Ritalin.
High school teachers are a little more dry. Some of them cross the line from dry to sarcastic. Some of them cross the line from sarcastic to bitter.
Many of them want to jump the elementary school teacher, who just ingested three cups of Starbucks, ringing that wretched cowbell.
Some of them are just plain crazy.
Speaking of just plain crazy, someone, sitting in that assembly, is hungover, at least in my book.
Someone has a deep seeded hatred towards the newly named teacher of the year. It could be for a number of reasons, it really doesn't matter. But the great part comes when the name is read you can vaguely hear that person, five or six rows back, say, over the cowbells and thunderous claps:
"Oh, HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL no."
At least in my book.
NOTE: None of these things happened this year to Karen. In all honesty, according to her it was a fairly tame end-of-the-year check out. She was even home well before three. Some of these things have happened in the past, not exactly in the shape or form I presented them. Some of these things were modified from past events in the to protect the idiots who behave like asses FREQUENTLY. But all events have some grain of truth, as relayed from Karen.
Update on Operation Rush Limbaugh
I'm still working on Karen. Now she's saying she might be teaching summer school. Since she doesn't get out of summer school until 12:30, calling Mr. Limbaugh becomes an impossibility.
I told her to blow off summer school.
She told me she wanted to buy a new refrigerator and summer school is easy money (7:30- 12:30 five days a week 25 bucks an hour-- you do the math).
Whatever
Summer school ends sometime before the fourth of July. We might have to delay operation Rush Limbaugh until then.
However . . .
We're getting a lot of hits out of South Palm Beach. I KNOW that Mr. Limbaugh is reading this. He needs to cut us a break. Other celebrities get breaks. They don't have to ask their assistants to sit on hold for hours on end. He needs to give us his PRIVATE number and allow us the luxury to call in at our leisure.
I still haven't mentioned the mistress thing. I figure one thing at a time.
I'll get back with you tomorrow
Go 'Stros
I'm sick and tired of politics.
HillBilly will continue or not. Period. Either way, we don't need to hear day long speculation.
Karen is also boycotting The View, as they spent like FOREVER talking about this and gave Colin Firth all of five minutes.
You don't shorten the Firth's time. That is, unless you want to hear about it from Karen.
Interesting fact: Firth has FIVE movies coming out this summer. Karen is in heaven.
It's Official Again
Karen got a three digit reading on her car thermometer yesterday.
Summer has begun.
Canadians suck.
My Novel About School Teachers
If I ever write a book about teachers, I would include one of the following:
1. Teachers desperately wanting to check out and go home and administrators desperately wanting them to stay until three.
or
2. Administrators desperately wanting to leave and teachers not ready to check out after five minutes of arriving in the building.
Either is pretty funny.
This concept is inspired by Karen, a decade plus veteran of public schools. She's been in three educational settings and this issue has been a small annoyance each year.
Small in that how mad can you be? IT'S THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL!!!
One school let you leave whenever you finished checking out. You got the checkout sheet like a week ahead of time, so you could do some of it early. If you weren't done by ten, someone was out looking for you, tapping their foot impatiently.
Although technically, you had until four.
Another school had a big assembly at eight, which lasted until about tenish (announcing retirees, teachers of the year and such), a breakfast shortly following, and then you got the check out sheets.
And the administrators disappeared
And reappeared for five minutes
And disappeared again
And reappeared for ten minutes
And went to lunch
And the principal wouldn't do the final sign off until three.
I asked Karen which was worse. According to her, although she really wanted to be home by noon, she'd rather spend a few more hours at work than to have someone breathing down her neck being all impatient, as that person booked a flight she should have scheduled later than noon on a workday.
Hypothetically speaking, of course
Other Funny Things About Teachers:
Elementary teachers, as a whole, are perky. At the assemblies announcing important things that happened during the year at individual schools, they do one of the following when anything related to their school is announced:
A. Whoop
B. Stand up and shout
C. Bring instruments, such as cowbells, and use them LOUDLY
They also have a tendency to match.
Karen said it takes too much energy to be an elementary teacher. She says that if she wrote a book about elementary school teachers she'd have someone sampling the Ritalin.
High school teachers are a little more dry. Some of them cross the line from dry to sarcastic. Some of them cross the line from sarcastic to bitter.
Many of them want to jump the elementary school teacher, who just ingested three cups of Starbucks, ringing that wretched cowbell.
Some of them are just plain crazy.
Speaking of just plain crazy, someone, sitting in that assembly, is hungover, at least in my book.
Someone has a deep seeded hatred towards the newly named teacher of the year. It could be for a number of reasons, it really doesn't matter. But the great part comes when the name is read you can vaguely hear that person, five or six rows back, say, over the cowbells and thunderous claps:
"Oh, HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL no."
At least in my book.
NOTE: None of these things happened this year to Karen. In all honesty, according to her it was a fairly tame end-of-the-year check out. She was even home well before three. Some of these things have happened in the past, not exactly in the shape or form I presented them. Some of these things were modified from past events in the to protect the idiots who behave like asses FREQUENTLY. But all events have some grain of truth, as relayed from Karen.
Update on Operation Rush Limbaugh
I'm still working on Karen. Now she's saying she might be teaching summer school. Since she doesn't get out of summer school until 12:30, calling Mr. Limbaugh becomes an impossibility.
I told her to blow off summer school.
She told me she wanted to buy a new refrigerator and summer school is easy money (7:30- 12:30 five days a week 25 bucks an hour-- you do the math).
Whatever
Summer school ends sometime before the fourth of July. We might have to delay operation Rush Limbaugh until then.
However . . .
We're getting a lot of hits out of South Palm Beach. I KNOW that Mr. Limbaugh is reading this. He needs to cut us a break. Other celebrities get breaks. They don't have to ask their assistants to sit on hold for hours on end. He needs to give us his PRIVATE number and allow us the luxury to call in at our leisure.
I still haven't mentioned the mistress thing. I figure one thing at a time.
I'll get back with you tomorrow
Go 'Stros
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