Cat, I'm a Kitty Cat

I think feline head-rubbing is a subtle threat:

Cat: I will adorably head-bump the things around me in an effort to get you to pet me.

Me: *shrug* I'm busy. No pets for you.

Cat: And you'd better pet me, or some of these things will be breakable, or filled with liquid.

Me: Meh, I've got stuff to do-- NO NOT MY COFFEE!!! *narrow save*

Cat: All the while, I will pretend I don't know what I'm doing, because how could I? I'm a kitty. *evil internal laugh* *meows*

Me: *Looks warily at the cat* Oh, fine. *pets cat*

Cat: *purrs* Victory is mine.

Even stupid cats have something to say

I have created a twitter account for my friend's cat. I cannot claim this wasn't inspired by the recent escape of the New York Zoo's cobra. Still, my friend's cat does some stupid stuff, and I think it will be funny. That is all.

Why solitaire almost never fails to draw me back in.

First, you must know-- I like logic puzzles. I also like card games. When both of them are put together... oh my god. You might be saying, "Silly! Solitaire isn't a logic puzzle, it's based on luck of the draw!"

Well that's where you're wrong. On a computer, with ctrl-z at your command, it becomes a logic puzzle. I didn't discover this until a few months ago, because I didn't know the shortcut for "undo", and when I was growing up, you got to undo two moves and then you were stuck with whatever you had two moves previous. Done. No more undoing. But not so with modern technology: You can undo the whole damn game if you want to, simply by holding down two keys.

Now, it's like playing minesweeper or battleship or chess! Which red 7 do I move? What cards will it reveal? How far will that get me? Now, if I take the two AND the three from the draw pile, that means that the next time around, I won't get that black six I want. So, I'd better leave the three in. Well, if I take the red king from the board and put it in a spot, I'll get a black 2, but if I take the black king from the draw pile, I can put the red queen on it and THEN there will be another available spot for the red king. Dangit.. all out of moves. Gosh, I must have moved the wrong red 7.... better go all the way back and move the other one instead.

And so on. This creates a problem, because solitaire was already addictive to me, but now it's like crack mixed with chocolate mixed with coffee mixed with more crack. I do my darndest to make sure I get all the freaking cards on their appropriate piles and then the fireworks that happen when you win.

Sometimes, I realize this just isn't feasible. That the unfavorable result was probably traced back to some minor adjustment that I couldn't possibly put my finger on, or I just never had a chance in the first place-- sometimes you get all black cards or simply incompatible ones. This happens quite a bit: My win/loss ratio is 20/80, though it's slowly improving.

The kicker, though, is that I'm so used to losing several games in a row that when I win, I feel like I've truly accomplished something. I feel like my brain is bigger for solving that devilishly difficult puzzle that made me hit ctrl-z a bajillion times, but I finally mastered. (I know this isn't true.) So, basking in the glory of my victory, I play another game. I usually lose the next game, but that's okay, because I won the last one. The next game after that is characterized by a growing desperation, because I've already lost my winning streak, and I don't want my losing streak to be more than one. Then I lose another one, and it's not even my fault-- the stupid game didn't give me a chance! Stupid game, I'll play another one, and I'll show you! (No I won't. I lose again.)

And then, randomly... I win. Vicious cycle repeats. Hours pass without looking at the clock. Then I happen to glance at the time, and I scramble away from the computer as quickly as possible because I realize that solitaire is eating my soul.

You know I'm right.

Vampires in space would be a really stupid idea for a story.

Think about it for a moment. Contemplate my statement.

Still don't know why? I'll tell you why.

Vampires in space would always be asleep, or always awake, or at their most dynamic, a lot like narcoleptics. The latter could be interesting, but would make plot advancement difficult, because, well, you know, they'd fall asleep randomly, and probably in the middle of a vital conversation. Without the planetary surface to block them from the sun, they would be dependent on the hull of the ship. Forget windows. They'd have to view the void from cameras, if indeed they could be awake at all. No one's really sure what makes vampires go to sleep when the sun bursts over the horizon, but it seems to affect them whether they're indoors or out, and assuming that at any given moment they would be near a star, aka a sun, they could fall asleep at any moment, unless they were waaaay out of any planetary system.. and that's boring. Ooo, vampires in an enclosed, windowless boat with nothing around them... fascinating.

It would make a great satire, though.

I wonder whose car it was..

I was reading a new article the other day about a serious house fire. They used the term "three alarm" which I didn't even know was still in use except when referring to chili. They were talking about how the fire station was alerted, blah blah.. and then they said, "No firefighters were injured, except one who was struck by a vehicle."

Wouldn't that suck? The fire is so serious that three units have been called out to help put it out, which means it's the firefighter's dream fire. Okay, that sounds bad, as if I'm saying firefighters want fires to happen. What I mean is that a lot of them had this dream where they were conquering a serious fire, and this one qualifies. So you get out there, you're wearing all your gear, and you're ready to kick some flame ass, and you get hit by a car.

That sucks. Betcha that guy is gonna be making up a story about falling wooden beams to try and save himself from the laughter.

It's like tripping. And then sometimes, you do.

I recently went to Florida. We flew there. When I looked down at the carpet, I wondered: Where the heck do they get this stuff? I have never seen an airport where the carpet was one color. It's always a strange pattern that seems as if it's straight out of the eighties or nineties. Is there some carpet store specifically for airports that has the rejects from those eras?

If you look at it long enough, it's as if you just took a ton of drugs and then tried to make art. It HAS to be rejected carpet, because there's enough of it to carpet an entire concourse.

God demands excellence.

I think if God was one of us he would walk up to Eric Bazilian and Joan Osborne and look at them very disappointedly for writing, performing, and releasing such a mediocre song about him.