To Clean, or not to Clean?

Three cups of coffee, two bowls, and one chapter later and I am still shirking my chores. I know I'll get it done, eventually, but right now I dun wanna! Random aside: are you supposed to capitalize those "tag" words? I can't help but do it. It's times like these when I really wish that magic were real, but then we'd all be big, fat, slobbering idiots, instead of just some of us. Cleanus Litterus! Yeah, I guess it's good that we can't all be perpetually lazy fuckheads.

So, as a lot of you know, I have this addiction to a book series titled "The Cat Who...", and while I'm never ashamed to flaunt my collection of first editions, I have to admit that owning almost thirty "Cat Who" related books is astounding for someone with such flighty convictions. I really am a Jill of All Trades, yet Master of none, but that is a different story for a different day. There are many reasons why I am such an avid fan of Ms. Jackson Braun and the world she's created in her series. I'll admit that, aside from a few main characters, two of which are cats, there isn't much in the way of character development. For the first ten or so books the plot tends to drag and dead-end, and there are numerous trivial inconsistencies. Once or twice, for me, the mystery's resolution has been painfully obvious only a mere four chapters in, but to invent elaborate riddles and incorporate two cats, an aging journalist, and a slew of "Yokel Locals" thirty times over isn't easy either.

What she [Ms. Braun] has done is created a rich and colorful township full of old town values and charming ideals. Her personal feelings of ecological preservation and animal rights bleeds through into these novels in a delicate and heartfelt way. If it didn't snow, and weren't fictional, I'd move to Moose County, 400 miles north of everywhere, in two shakes of a cat's tail. What is lacking in depth is made up for by Ms. Braun's lengthy background in fine cuisine and interior design and she proceeds to describe the meals and surroundings of the main character constantly. Beware: Cat Who books will probably make you hungry. Despite all of the quirks, I am absolutely hooked on this series and will continue to devour it voraciously over and over.

Well, I've killed a significant amount of time posting this bullshit. Time for a cigarette and another cup of coffee and then chores. BORING. Hopefully, WoW will be up by then. Oh, yeah, before I go, get this: my WoW server went down this morning for what those assholes at Blizzard dare to call a "brief maintenance". I checked the site. To them "brief" is three mother fucking hours. Jerkoffs.

Before I depart with the usual KITTEH!?!!1 I leave you with these fine words of wisdom:

Did you hear that they're melting down all the plastic that was in Michael Jackson to make a slide so that kids can go down on him again?

Boooo! Hiisssss! Yeah, I know. Fuck you, too. I think it's hilarious.

See? All better now. I had this one for the 4th, but I didn't post and I'll be damned if I'm waiting a whole fucking year to use it. KITTEH!

"I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

I will face my fear.

I will permit it to pass over me and through me.

And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.

Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.

Only I will remain."

At Least We're Dreaming

There are very few things that shake the steadiest hand, but stoics the world over have faltered at a dream. A dream is defined, by Dictionary.com, as "a succession of images, thoughts, or emotions passing through the mind during sleep," and you'll noticed they tacked that tricky word 'emotion' at the end there. These involuntary visions, they captivate, overwhelm, and scare some; me, I'm always left in a state of melancholy and it's really starting to piss me off.

Once upon a time, far away, I was deeply rooted in a belief that dreams were some sort of "cosmic message service" that subtly nudged you towards wherever the hell it was you were supposed to be. I know, it's a fantastical idea, but I was younger and way too whimsical. Now that I have at least one foot firmly planted here on Earth, I realize that I have no idea what dreams really are, but I'm damn sure what they aren't.

Dreams are not some guiding force, swerving you this way and that, giving you secrets from beyond. Dreams are not so cut and dry that they can be instantly divined, either. I own at least three different books, calling themselves "Dream Dictionaries", claiming to be the definitive translation to all things slumber. Bullshit! Let's lay out an example: the Dreamers Dictionary defines a large body of water, seem in a dream, represents sexuality. Hm, we'll ignore the vague, one word definition and concentrate on why this is all a fucking farce. What happens if I'm terrified of water? That sure as hell wouldn't represent sexuality to me at all. I guess I'm just too much of a dumb shit to realize that it's representing my sexuality? Oh damn, maybe I'm terrified ... of my sexuality! That's it! I'm gay! ... see? All bullshit. (Take that, Penn & Teller!)

Short of never sleeping again, there's only one solution to my sleepy situation: come to terms with my dreams. Who knows, mayhap it'll be a sane and rational conversation? "Brain, we need to talk ... maybe you should take a seat. Once or twice a week you give me these ... dreams, and well, I don't like 'em. Knock it off, bitch!" I'm a content person, for the most part, and I'm an intelligent adult (again, for the most part) so I cannot fathom why I still have childish dreams about fairytale romances and finding love. I know that I can't control the content of my dreams, but I loathe the fact that my dreams are comprised of such a mushy load of crap. I blame Hollywood.

No, really. Hollywood. Pushing that romance novel bullshit on us at every turn. Perfectly functioning couples break up every single day because of 'Chick Flicks'. Ladies, you wanna know why men hate those movies? It's not because they don't have feelings, it's because those movies are vapid, inane, and just plain old fucking stupid. That shit doesn't happen! There is no such thing as that perfect moment where all of the pieces fall into place and he says just the right thing. Why the hell are you gonna leave a perfectly good man, or woman, because there might be someone else out there? That shit isn't real! It's in a movie for a reason, you dipshit. If you're in a relationship and you happen to meet someone better, well que sera, sera. Shit happens. But, don't sit there and pine away and wonder "what if"... morons.

Ahhh, I feel better. I hope you do, too. No? Need a hug? How about a kitty?!



"Cats are cats . . . the world over!
These intelligent, peace-loving, four-footed friends - who are without prejudice, without hate, without greed - may someday teach us something." -- James Mackintosh Qwilleran