There's always money in kicking cats!

[kleenexwoman]

In case you are wondering where I have been and why I asked you for world domination plans, I have been at Seth's. He's been doing important things like going to class and writing essays on delightfully cynical poets while I hang around and annoy the kitties and do dishes. It's remarkably domestic. I could do this.
(The world domination plans don't have much to do with this. We're watching gay spy shows and evil kids' shows and Claymation animals and it's pretty cool.)

Also, he gave me this little necklace that says "GOING STEADY." It's so cute. :3 <-- there are a lot of cats around here, Jesus. There's technically only four, but they shed a lot so it's like there's six, two of which are in little bits. And they're very affectionate and they like to sleep on me. And oh god I'm rambling, but it's spring break and I'm spending it in a borderline hoarder's paradise and wearing soft sweaters and basically letting myself go to mush.

Comments

[josephwaldman.livejournal.com]

Lovely. But honestly, can there ever be too many cats? The more, the merrier. They're wonderful little buggers.

Enjoy your mush. And watch out for the weather this weekend, if that's when you're driving back to Michigan. We are supposed to get absolutely walloped starting sometime late tomorrow or early Saturday, continuing on through Sunday.

Send good radar Obama's way. He's gonna need it.

[kleenexwoman.livejournal.com]

Three is supposed to be the limit for cats. Buuuuut that's only per person, so we're all safe.

Thanks for the weather advice. I may end up staying here until Monday, whoop whoop.

[josephwaldman.livejournal.com]

Reminds me of how my college band used to start off our cover of AC/DC's Big Balls (that delightful wordplay mishmosh of double entendres): "One! Two! . . . Three?" And then we'd look at one another perplexedly before turning our amps to eleven and blasting the absolute hell out of the unsuspecting braindead Young Methodists who'd booked us to play their dance.

Is it just me, or is winter going on a bit longer this year than it should?

[sir-dave.livejournal.com]

Any cynical poets that I know of?

I've written the odd bit of scathing, but I don't know if I qualify for cynical.

Annoy cats, or they will take over your brain and make you like them. On their terms.

My fanfic featured four talking cats that had taken Jasper Fforde all too seriously. Two pairs; of each pair one had been genetically engineered out of the best bits of their sibling, who was left with whatever was left. It made writing fun. One book jumped, another had watched the Chronoguard until he could imitate them, one was as dumb as any cat that lived, and the third silent but haughtily beautiful (the other three talked). Guess which one caught a Schrodinger whilst lying in a box whose lid fell shut?

[kleenexwoman.livejournal.com]

It's in his post--W.H. Auden. "We must love one another or die" became "We must love one another AND die, because we're going to die anyway," became "Oh sod this poem, it never did anything for humanity."

I'm still in the "easily enchanted by cats" phase. I spent half an hour just watching one use me for a combination pillow/scratching post. :3 AW KITTY

[josephwaldman.livejournal.com]

Let's see how rusty my mental poetry banks are -- that's "September 1 1939" (think that's the title, might be something slightly different), right?

Remind me to show you my mom's collection of LPs next time you're in town. It's a pitiful sight to see. They would be so goddamned valuable (I mean, eventually, if I inherited them and decided to sell 'em off -- I like vinyl but I'm not packrat obsessive about it) -- lots of first-pressing Beatles and plenty of other good gold to mine -- but all the jacket spines are shredded because the cats we had when I was little preferred them (and me, if I got too close) to their perfectly fine scratching posts.

[josephwaldman.livejournal.com]

By the way: where, exactly, is this cat-kicking moolah coming from? I accidentally (it was dark and I was half asleep, stumbling my way into the kitchen to get a glass of water) stepped on Dizzy last night -- well, more like half stepped on, half tripped over -- but damned if my wallet's any heavier. Do I actually have to retrieve it from the cat itself? Should I have picked him up and pried his jaws open and seen if a rolled-up fifty would pop out?