The Cats: Secret Geniuses

Okay, so you know how ever since we got the cats, I've kind of thought they were, shall we say, a little cerebrally singular? I mean, Flyboy headbutts people nonstop, Cady was afraid of everything IN THE WORLD until we bought a new bed at which point she grew a personality overnight, Flyboy has been seen running headfirst into solid objects, Cady ate yarn, like, need we continue?


Well, turns out maybe I need to take back all the times I told them they were retarded.

A while back I was at the Pet Barn, which is a great local pet store here in Holden, and I picked up this toy as an afterthought. It's not anything revolutionary...it's a bunch of feathers, firmly attached to a little plastic plug which in turn connects to a cord of that plastic lanyard stuff my Mom never let me call "gimp" which of course is what every other child in the world called it, thus limiting my communicative abilities...ANYWAY, the whole thing is mounted on a nice, whippy kind of plastic rod that has little beads in it which make a kitty-friendly noise...kind of like a low-rent rainstick. In any case, Cady, in particular, FREAKING LOVES this thing. We have to hide it in the vaccuum cleaner closet when it's not in action, and Cady sits outside the door and verbally assaults you if you so much as poke your head around the hallway, whinging and crying for you to take out the toy, with her eyeballs dilated to within an inch of their lives and generally acting insane.


When her time isn't taken up by this valuable pursuit, she and Flyboy team up to remove the access panel from the jacuzzi tub. They primarily like to do this at two or three in the morning. The panel is held on by velcro, so it's not necessarily hard to get off, but it is designed to be unobtrusive, so it's surprising that they even figured out that it came off. Here's kind of what it looks like, but the panel's on the other side on ours.

All right, so Cady's in the hallway freaking out, the Goober is in the bathroom removing the access panel...did I happen to mention that a.) the only way to stop them from removing the panel is to lock them out of the bathroom and b.) the baseboard in the bathroom isn't working, so when you lock them out, it gets to about negative three degrees just in time for your morning pee? Because a.) it is, and b.) it isn't. Now, recently, we had some issues with the hot water...we like our showers so hot the skin starts blistering, but the hot water was only reaching "tea left out for about 10 minutes," so we had to take off the access panel for the pipes. I drew a TOTALLY FABULOUS picture here for you.


So one morning I wake up and go in for said morning pee to the soothing sounds of stampeding cat feet of guilt (not unusual for the household), and I see feathers strewn around and the jacuzzi access panel is off, again. I blink a couple times, and look a little closer.


The toy is trailing out of the access panel.


At some point, when Speed and I were dreaming sweet dreams of a life without obnoxious and possibly retarded cats, those little bastards took the access panel off the jacuzzi, then CLIMBED INTO the tub, snuck around amongst the pipes and wires under the tub shell, crawled THROUGH the access panel for the pipes, grabbed the toy, and dragged it back THROUGH the tub and out into the bathroom.


Do you see? Secret geniuses?

Fuck You, Bravo (and Possibly Charter)

You know what, Bravo? Fuck you. Fuck you for now TWICE IN A WEEK cutting off the ending of Project Runway. I tune in at TEN O'FUCKING CLOCK pretty much every Wednesday, for Top Chef or Shear Genius or my favorite, my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE, Project Runway. THAT IS FUCKING LATE. AND YET HERE WE ARE. I even watched fucking Top Design and dude that shit was lame. I know who Kelly Wearstler is because of you fucking fuckheads. I sift through your third-trimester abortion of a website so I can talk about the shows with my friends. I have attention deficit disorder AND epilepsy now, JUST FROM YOUR GODDAMN, SLOW-LOADING, GRAPHIC-DRENCHED, UNNAVIGABLE WEBSITE. BUT NO WORRIES. I didn't even freak out too much when you bought one of my favoritest websites in the world, Television Without Pity. And all I ask from you, Bravo, in exchange for all this, is to watch fucking Project Runway without you CUTTING OFF THE MOTHERFUCKING ENDING. TWICE IN A ROW NOW, with the stopping right when Heidi is dramatically pausing on someone's name. WHY CAN'T YOU JUST SCHEDULE YOUR FUCKING SHOWS TO START ON THE HOUR AND END ON THE HOUR? WHAT IS THIS SHIT WITH ENDING AT 11:03?! Oh, you're "bucking convention?" Let me tell you about bucking convention, people...sometimes people buck convention because convention is dumb and non-adaptive. MORONS buck convention because they think they're shiny little snowflakes revolutionizing the industry. GUESS WHICH CATEGORY IS YOURS.

Here's the kicker, because I know you fucks want to know...since this happened last week, and there was swearing, and Speed threw the remote across the room, I made sure I set the DVR to record this Make Me A Supermodel shit you're shovelling these days. That way, I thought, I would have two contiguous hours of taped media, and would miss nothing. WRONG THE FUCK AGAIN. SOMEHOW, the two minutes of Project Runway that involve the MOST IMPORTANT PART OF THE SHOW have vanished into the fucking Bermuda Triangle. You know what, Bravo, I know you think you're secretly forcing people to watch your shit on time to work out ratingswise? I'm not always home at 10. I have SHIT TO DO. You would think that you'd want to hook a sister up for giving enough of a shit about your show that she DVRs it every week and watches faithfully, but noooooo. You'd rather take a nice, juicy dump on my happiness, and cut off the fucking END. Seriously, Bravo, eat shit and die.

And on the off chance that this is purely a DVR issue (which it isn't), fuck you Charter. And extra fuck you for not being Verizon FiOS.

Confessions of a Reader

This semester, something geeky happened in my Peace & War class. The professor was talking about how he was at a disadvantage in teaching undergrads because they are not as well-read as, say, grad students generally are. (This was intended in a less douchey sense than it comes off from this brief summary.) He then proceeded to list a number of works that he thought he would reference during the class, including Henry V and the St. Crispin's Day Speech amongst other works that weren't really obscure so much as not likely to be encountered pre-higher-education.

Woe, ye silly prof.

I let out a little snert, because I had read every one of them. Unfortunately, he heard me, and thought I was laughing at the idea that the modern student does not arrive at college well-read. I told him I agreed, but was still smiling, which he called me on, and I told him I'd read all of them. He looked startled, and then said "oh. Well...good for you! *beat* Nerd."

It's true, and I've accepted it. I learned to read early and didn't stop. When I was in elementary school, I was picking up everything that wasn't tacked down in the house, including things like Jurassic Park and Death of a Salesman. The point isn't really how much I read that early, because let's face it...your weltenschauung isn't big enough to deal with things like little pieces of rubber tubing in Willy Loman's secret stash. The point is that as far as I can tell, I was born starving for the written word, needing it the way most people need water and food. I have read some utter shit just because it was better than not reading at all, like the copy of the heinous Manhunt by garbage-producer Janet Evanovitch that I found on the T on a trip into Boston. Look, I'm on college break, free from books if I so choose until the 23rd (I know, longest break ever, no?), and my bedtime reading? Is Anna Karenina.

Before that, I was reading something else, and this is where the true confession comes in. I was reading Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen. I started reading it because I'd never read any Austen, and you know, you hear all about how great Austen is, one of the world's great authors, famous love stories, ELIZABETH AND DARCY EEEEEEEE and all that great stuff. Plus, that Jane Austen Book Club movie was coming out, the movie version of P&P with Keira Knightley was coming out, AND that one about Austen's life starring Anne Hathaway (which apparently was totally assy)...all signs pointed to it being time to finally check me out some Austen.

Oh my god, there are no words for how much I hate Austen.

I say this as someone who read Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray of her own free will. I got WRIST PROBLEMS from that shit, man. The vagaries of 17/1800s society are not what bore me. Maybe it's the wrong way to approach it, but my god, what could EVER be more boring than watching a bunch of weak-ass females fawn over men and be perpetually swayed by foggy intelligence? Gross. And let me tell you - I love me a good romance. Totally down with it. But why in the hell am I always hearing about Elizabeth Bennett being a strong heroine? Spare me the agony.

I feel like I'm doing something wrong by not liking Austen, but ugh, what a struggle to get through the dense writing and plodding plotline. No thank you, literary world, though I feel somewhat obligated to read Sense and Sensibility just to have the experience and build my literary base, but I am going to need to wash my brain out with some Tolstoy before I'm ready to hit the Austen again.

There, I said it.

And I'm not sorry.

New Bag From Target

Loeffler Randall Satchel in cream for Target, $49.99

I bought this bag AT Target for $50 on Sunday and let me tell you - I FREAKING LOVE IT! It's enormous and fabulous and I can fit all my crap in it PLUS a pair of sneaks (in order to comply with the Don't Track Snow And Crap Into Frank's Place rule) with no problem. Good quality, awesome design, love it love it love it! It's more creamy than the white it looks here.

New Hamster

First, foremost, and eternally, I LOVE New Hampshire's collective relationship with Presidential elections. As most know, New Hampshirians are generally a pretty unique bunch, what with the Living Free or Dying and the no taxes and the kind of communal kingdom situation. But they are at their absolute best every four years when the elections come up.

The thing that no one beside MAYBE Iowans can understand is the overwhelming press that candidates put on New Hampshire. We get a fair number of TV channels that share a broadcast range with our northern neighbors, so we see how saturated the airwaves are with overearnest, dramatic commercials, and also get something that is the very pinnacle of fabulousness - New Hampshire news coverage. New Hampshirians are besieged every cycle with the candidates, their staffs, celebrities on the stump, and massive, roving platoons of volunteers, all actively interrupting any number of each person's daily life to harangue them for their vote. While CNN and the other national news sources wax poetic about how lucky New Hampshire residents are to have such amazing exposure to the primary system and the many treasures therein, it's important to note that none of these hordes are harassing the newspeople's own personal selves. New Hampshire voters basically seem to become irritated into completely ignoring things that often gain the candidates knee-jerk votes, like personality, speaking ability, etc., and instead focus obsessively on actual issues. Thus a caustic but hilarious (and often encouraging) relationship has sprung up, which spices up the evening news more than I can possibly explain. For example, let's compare some completely made up but representative samples of news in different states.

Super Tuesday State Resident, Accosted by News Team En Route to Polls
Newsperson: So what's driving your vote today?
Voter: I'm voting for Obama because he will bring HOPE AND CHANGE to the US!
Newsperson: Were there any special issues that brought you over to his side?
Voter: Yes, he'll bring change!

New Hampshire Resident, Accosted in Similar Fashion
Newsperson: So what's driving your vote today?
Voter: Obama.
Newsperson: Were there any special issues that brought you over to his side?
Voter: Well, let me tell you, I've been checking out the health care plans and comparing them, and of course I want someone who will take the best approach in Iraq, so after reading up I'm voting for Obama. But let me tell you, he starts talking about [insert pet peeve issue] and I might go for Hillary. Besides which, [random trivia/knowledge about assorted platform planks].

Love it. If only everyone would research their shit that way. Of course, New Hampshire being New Hampshire, they also tend to pump out election results I'm not really down with (10:19, 61% reporting - Clinton 39%, Obama 36%; McCain 37%, Romney 31%), but that's sort of part of the charm, no?

****************FOR NEW HAMPSHIRE'S EYES ONLY****************

Dear New Hampshire,

Dude, you guys live WAY too close to Massachusetts to not know what a fucktard Romney is. I know they called McCain already, but still, don't be encouraging that smarmy douchebag.

Love,

Me

****************END CONFIDENTIAL TRANSMISSION****************

So okay, happy feelings and confidential transmissions dispensed with, can we talk for a minute about who we should care about, voter-wise? Many times I have found myself envying the Australian system where voting is mandatory. I don't remember what the penalty is, though I like to imagine it's really aggressive and draconian, but the idea of having the day off with your only job being to vote and participate in your government really sounds great to me. The problem, of course, is that you have to question the level of comprehension and engagement. I always try and talk people into voting, but then sometimes scary things happen, like when my coworker (pretty much the only person with the political intelligence of a mollusk at my company so don't be thinking they're all like this) launched into a long and comprehensively moronic discussion about how whoever raises the most money wins (I see where this came from, but still wrong), and how drugs are only illegal because someone paid a lot of money to make them that way. So, if we require people to vote, that means she's voting too. Yikes.

Scarlett mentioned today a desire to have some kind of intelligence exam before being allowed to vote. Sort of the opposite of the Australian concept, and certainly not the first time Scarlett OR I have mentioned the potential benefit of this idea (usually amidst a C-SPAN fueled rage). That comment was the first thing I thought of when a CNN anchor, while discussing the reaction of people to the Tears of Hillary incident, uttered the following words:

"...of people who made up their minds today, 43% went for Hillary, and 39% went for Obama."

If anyone can give my one single reason I should care even for a passing second about the opinion of some oblivious idiot who didn't make their mind up until THE DAY OF THE FUCKING PRIMARY, I will give you every dollar in my own personal bank account. I can understand if you live in a state that's not Iowa or New Hampshire, but dude come on. You can't swing a goddamn cat in either state without hitting some kind of political influence. I'm sorry, but you're not taking in the bulk of information being hurled at you from all angles without making some kind of judgment call on it. You're either lying, in which case I don't give a shit about how you voted, or your a fucking mongoloid, in which case - surprise! - I don't give a shit about how you voted.

And seriously, fuck you CNN, for even mentioning that statistic. We used to be cool, man...we used to be cool.

The Failing Continues

Last night at the game, the nice folks at the Sharks office put a little Congratulations announcement up on the video scoreboard. "How sweet!" one might exclaim, imagining the two of us sitting together, enjoying a beer and cheering our team on.

What actually happened was that the camera started showing Rich, who waved, then pointed about three seats down, where I was sitting, and then at some point we managed to grab hands and wave like complete morons.

Oh, and PS, I was wearing a Dallas Stars jersey.

Ultimate fail, and yet, EXTRA awesome.

The Weege Continues Her Reign of Awesomeness, Plus Props for the USPS

So, I talked to the Weege a while back and told her she was not allowed to travel all over creation anymore unless I started getting postcards. One arrived today from her trip to London, and let me tell you, it's magical in several ways. First, let us all take a moment to applaud the United States Postal Service for making it appear in my mail, because this is how it was addressed (with some pseudonymizing so the Internet doesn't arrive on my door):

Josie & Speed
23 Josie's Road
Holden, MA
AMERICA

You'll notice assorted things wrong and/or challenging about this depending on your familiarity with our address. If you have ever mailed something in the United States, you've probably noticed that the Postal Service likes you to put a zip code on mail. If you have ever mailed anything to me, you'll know that we live at number thirty four, not number twenty three. If you're aware of naming conventions in...the world, and are not Madonna or Cher, you may have noticed that most people (including Speed and I) have last names.

The Weege is awesome.