2002-09-25

Firm tape, I feel like my brain is leaking out my ears. * * * So, you know the sound wet sneakers make on a hardwood floor, that annoying, high-pitched squeak? That’s the exact sound that Spot makes when he meows (I think I’ve mentioned the story behind his weird meow before, but here it is in a nutshell: he showed up as a kitten outside Fred’s door several years ago (before Fred and I met), and sat outside the door howling and howling and howling until he ruined his “voice”, and ever since it’s been a weird, squeaky non-meow). He just came in through the cat door, and is sitting behind me making that noise incessantly. Something about having someone see him come through the cat door really bothers him, like he thinks he’s not supposed to be out there. Anytime he’s out there when we wander out to do something in the back yard, he high-tails it for the cat door and skedaddles inside. Our cats. Such freaks. Oh. Actually, I guess he DIDN’T just come through the cat door. It’s raining like hell out there, and he isn’t wet. I guess he’s complaining about the fact that he can’t go out there due to the rain. I mean, he COULD go out there, but you know how it is with cats and the whole getting wet thing. * * * Speaking of cats, if you were a portly Poo and you wanted to lay comfortably somewhere, and you had the run of the entire house, including a cozy loveseat and a pillow in the corner of your Momma’s desk, put there especially for you, where would you choose to curl up and snooze? That’s right. Directly in front of the keyboard so that your Momma couldn’t do that annoying “typing” on the “keyboard” and annoy you. All she could do is maybe reach around you to use the mouse. Because she’s far too nice to dump your portly ass on the floor, where you belong. * * * I was reading Jennifer Weiner’s blog yesterday, and followed a link to an article, wherein I was struck by the picture of Anna Quindlen set to the side. Anna Quindlen has got herself some crazy, twirling eyes. Those are some serial killer eyes, y’all. You don’t want to mess with Anna Quindlen, ’cause with eyes like that, you know she’ll fuck you up without batting an eyelash.]]>