Monthly Archives: August 2014

Have a Great Weekend

Okay, okay, I’ve been rethinking the whole class reunion thing, and I just might go after all. I mean, I can behave myself and not demonstrate why I’m not allowed in public during daylight hours, right? Quick: get the fire hose and the wire brushes, because the Saturday Night (May 2027) bath is coming early.

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Cat Monday

Fuck You Cat
Those who care for ginger cats already know that most gingers have no fear of man, beast, or god, and when they appear to flee a bad situation, they’re generally only plotting a strategic retreat. Well, that applies to most ginger cats. The neighborhood has a new top feline, nicknamed by the Czarina “F*ckYouCat”. Not that she’d dare say it to his face, but that’s his default expression. Find him basking in the alley when you’re driving in? His expression practically screams “Don’t make me break my foot off in your ass”. Catch him digging in the garden? Watch out, because he’s probably armed. Don’t get me going about his habit of camping on the car hood while I’m using the garage for various projects, because he just dares you to say something about it. He has all of the neighborhood dogs and cats terrorized and pacified, and I fully expect he’ll have the neighborhood armadillos beaten soft by the end of next weekend.

Fuck You Cat

Surprisingly, F*ckYouCat is amenable to photography, so long as you don’t expect him to do much of anything but glare. However, when he’s done, he’s really good about showing what he considers to be his best side.

Fuck You Cat

Have a Great Weekend

It’s not every day that anyone can say that they’ve lived a comedy routine. I can say, with conviction, that I’ve lived a Bill Hicks routine, in my old hometown of Lewisville, Texas. Yes, I was asked “Whatchoo readin’ for?” at the local Denny’s, as I was eating dinner and perusing a book on pterosaurs. The difference was that I was being asked this by a local deputy, his hand on his firearm and just daring me to do something that might cause it to fall out accidentally and put five rounds between my eyes, shaking with anger that someone would dare read while eating in his town. But I’m told that I should be proud to have gone to high school there, and that I really should go to my class reunion to see that it wasn’t that bad.