Suzy Says

Cat Update:

Let me tell you, science is never going to find an alarm that can get a man out of bed in the morning anywhere near as effective as a hyperactive cat using a fellow?s scrotum for take-offs and landings. I ate some really disgusting crap for dinner last night. It was gelatinous and chunky at the same time, with a greasy sheen and a heady aroma. It was viscous enough that I ate it off a plate, but runny enough that I had to use a spoon. Oh, and the cats liked it too, so I was able to share a few leftover, umm, gobbets. I watched some garbage TV, and then got cozy with a book (The Quiet Game by Greg Iles, out a few years now, pretty damn good so far) while being the Far East. I had asians all over me, Jack and Cleo taking turns sitting on my chest and purring, while Hannah sat at my feet like a cat who thinks she is a good dog ?I should have named her Spot the way she follows me around- and glared at them. I guess I hit the alarm when it went off this morning and immediately fell back asleep, after which Jack, watching the clock and listening to her tummy growl, decided a testicular assault was in order. What is it about Siamese cats? Our previous Siamese, Josephine (her years were measured in quality, not quantity) had the same knack for knowing the time, and getting my ass out of bed when I slept in, which pretty much always happens when Suzy is away. When I left the house this morning they were all enjoying their treats, which they get before we leave for work. Sophie, Cleo and Jack were crunching away on chicken flavored Pounce, and Hannah was eating her cake- her treat of choice. Plain white cake. The Betty Crocker stuff. She loves it. And she is also the messiest eater I?ve ever seen. Within a minute she can convert a piece of cake the size of a jawbreaker into a field of crumbs covering a couple of square feet. Amazing.

Things That Still Piss Me Off After All These Years #287:

The removal from circulation of two-dollar bills. I miss them.

Women Are Strange #199:

Why do women keep using PMS as a defense against charges of assault, murder, etc? Don?t they realize they are turning the clock back on everything ever achieved by women (and the occasional man) who fought for equal rights? There have been a couple of cases in England where women have been acquitted of murder charges because of diminished responsibility resulting from PMS, and a case in the US where a woman was released after being charged with DUI even though she swore at a state trooper (and tried to kick him in the balls) saying, ?You can’t do this to me, I’m a doctor. I hope you [expletive] get shot and come into my hospital so I can refuse to treat you, or if any other trooper gets shot, I will also refuse to treat them.” She also failed a Breathalyzer test (and had been driving drunk with her kids in the car), yet her lawyer told the court that women absorb alcohol quickly during their premenstrual cycle and women with PMS became more irritable and hostile than other people. She walked. Doctors will testify in court that these women had no choice when their hormones drove them to do what they did while suffering from PMS or PPD, such as the postpartum defense being used in the case of Andrea Yates, the Texas woman who drowned her five children. If these arguments are going to be accepted and we all have to live with this as a part of every woman, fine, yet there is the other side of the fence to consider. If women have the potential to become this unbalanced, perhaps they should be barred from certain pursuits in which they could wreak havoc if struck with PMS. Maybe women should no longer be allowed to drive big rigs on the highway, or carry guns, or be crew members on the space shuttle, or airline pilots, or police officers, or soldiers? or maybe we should accept that women are just like men, having bad days and good days, and like some men, some women act in ways which should result in appropriately severe punishments.

Random Notes:

Not much happening. I walked in to work today, thinking it was nice out, wearing just a shirt (well, yeah, pants too, I mean just a shirt as opposed to including a t-shirt or coat), and it turned out to be about fifty degrees and foggy, so it was chilly and the air was full of moisture. Oh, and for breakfast, I had a four-day-old slice of cheese pizza. After nuking it, it was like chewing on a thirty-year-old piece of linoleum pulled up off of a kitchen floor somewhere. Oh, and when I was in the bathroom at work taking a leak some ridiculously tall guy raced into one of the stalls and unloaded with a barrage that sounded like what you hear when you watch old newsreels of air bombardments in WWII. In fact, he did his own air bombardment, and from his size, and the smell he created, I wouldn?t be surprised to discover he was actually just a sasquatch with a hair-loss problem.

Final Question

Why do I hate corduroy so much? I mean, it?s just a fabric. It can?t do anthing to me. It can?t hurt me if I pass by or attack me in the night. I do hate it though. Touching it makes me shiver with horror as my mouth dries up and I grimace in revulsion. Just thinking about it is disturbing. And that sound corduroy pants make when someone is walking along? whssk! whssk! whssk! whssk! Horrifying!

-Rufus