Ohhhh Long John...

Oh Don Piaaaaaaaano.

Drama Reprieve

Found at Geek Central. That's the stuff that would make me want to just recline across that pack sideways, facedown, and go "Boogaboogaboogabooga!! Who's the babeeeez?!? YOU da babeeeeeez!!!!"



(I hope she likes cats....)

Yay, More Cats!

I really miss having a cat. I can't tell you about my last cat because I think I really messed up with how I left it with her. Okay, I'll tell you. I left her at George's house, knowing full well that he was/is an irresponsible person, which is the kindest understatement anyone can make. In fact, I'm so glad that I haven't had occasion to talk about him as much as I once did, but I'll spare him this one additional tag count.

I was planning on finding a no-kill shelter to place her when I moved from George's, but all that I found were booked solid. So I left her at George's. Knowing that George spent his nights in a drunken stupor with his screen doors ripped open by his other cats. Knowing that my cat didn't get along with the other cats. Knowing that my cat would wonder where the hell I went.

Half a year went by before I got a call from George asking if I came by and picked up my cat.

No, George. No I didn't.

Because my cat was gone and he didn't know where she went.

Now, it is completely to George's credit, 1) That he housed me rent-free for nearly two years and that 2) He housed my cat for 6 months more--which includes feeding her and giving her a place to poop. He honestly owed me or my cat nothing at all. So I have nothing against George. My reaction to him is based on my own antisocialness and how resentful I was about how my life had turned out to lead me into his basement.

My cat didn't deserve to be abandoned. I got her from a shelter in Missouri and promised I would take care of her. I moved her Missouri to Trenton New Jersey, and then to Harlem New York, and then to Paramus New Jersey. And then I left.

Obviously, I haven't beat myself up over it. I've been a cat freak since forever, bearing cat hair stained suits, slogged through cat hair tumbleweeds, left cat pissed matted carpets in my wake and sacrificed girls in favor of cats. My cat love was obsessive nutty pet owner kind of love. I did want to be free of that and try to be the kind of guy who just likes cats ... but my cat didn't deserve to be abandoned.

So that's a reveal on how maybe I deserve my loneliness, and losing my new friend Ned, and having car accidents, and all sorts of crap.

But I mean, what am I going to do? Kill myself?

Dang. This post turned out way different than the way I intended to start it out.

The Secret Lives Of Cats

Equal Time For Free Bark




The added doggie content was spurred on by Tanya's Blog!

But I must say this; the difference between cats and dogs was never more apparent. The dogs are eagerly saying words at their humans' prompting. The cats are conversating amongst themselves, almost despite the fact that a human is nearby filming. They look almost embarrassed.

I first saw that last Talking Dog compilation on America's Funniest Videos. "That last dog saying "I want my Mama!!" captured my heart way back then, and I welcome the little scrappy babyhead back!

These Frustrations...

(Originally Oct 12 2005)

So I won't be playing CoH tonight.

Those halfwits at Web2Zone only has it on two machines, the two machines designated for cRPGs, whereupon two 'regular' customers have perched. Oh, I could have played two hours ago, if the Billing Center in Texas had not had a 'glitch' in their system and had not prevented me until now.

Oh, I could give them another CD to use and upload the game to another machine--if I didn't have it packed tightly away sitting in Paramus (otherwise known as "The Armpit Crapstain of the World", or "The Belly Of The Whale") at this moment.

This.

This is the reason people take high-powered rifles into belltowers.

And just to think. SOME people, who HAVE the game on perfectly useable computers dont even WANT to play.

Funny freakin' world I live in. Hardy flippin' har-har.

Now I'm going out to push some old lady down into a puddle. Why not? Why should *- I -* have all the "fun"?

This is the e-mail I sent out to my friends with whom I share fun activities with. It's a way to say to them, "I'm having the grandaddy of all crappy days, and while I want you guys to laugh, I want you also to feel bad for me, and also a little guilty for having such nice warm little lives while mine sucks with all the suckitude of Alllllllllllll-Time Suckiness."

I'm blogging from 23rd St in Manhattan, having decided to not work at the real estate dealie for today and tomorrow and get the rest of my stuff moved. I'm having the most trouble with considering how to move my cat. I would try the public transportation, but I know she'll howl and scream like a total creature. I used two friends already and promised them each that it would be the last trip, and so I can't ask them again. I did newly ask another friend, and will hear from him soon about if he can help. Ultimately, I can get a a T&LC driver and pay him what, 100 bucks? (Which I happen to have since my car has been yanked). But in the middle of all this, I wanted to go back to Paragon City and have some fun. So much to ask?

So I've already gotten used to having no cable TV. I don't miss it all that much. And what have I been doing without the internet? Reading--good, old fashioned reading, and believe it or not going to bed early. Oh, it's just CRAZY! I'm a luddite antediluvian madman!

I think I'll go see a movie now, which replaces the money I would have spent playing CoH. And then I'll stop back by the Idiot2Zone and see if the Pay-A-Loser has gone home so this one can take his place.

grrrrrrr