A Few Things

First, an update on the cat: A moment ago, I was snuggled in (Sister's) bed with my laptop watching Psych. The bedroom door was still open, because I didn't feel like wrangling the cat just yet. Then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Across the hall in our guest room/library, there was a feline shape pacing back and forth atop the six foot bookcases. I yelled, "What do you think you are doing? Get down!" She moved further down the book cases so that only her flicking tail was visible. I yelled, "I can still see you, CAT! Get down now!" But she doesn't believe you're serious until you are verticle, usually after extracating yourself from an incredibly comfy position you just managed to find under a heap of blankets and something in your lap. Because she is SATAN'S CAT. I rushed into the library, stomping my feet and flailing my arms to prove I'mseriousthistimesohelpmeGod! and she sauntered nonchalantly toward the bedroom like nothing had just happened. As soon as I closed the door, she raced around like a mad thing chased by the ghosts of the three blind mice, diving face-first into the window, then ducking under the bed. Now, she is cuddled so close to me that my left hand rubs against her face anytime I type any letter left of the f key. Which I'm thinking will be prefect provocation for her to try to bite me in a moment. Oh, nope. Instead, she just stood up and mimicked a pointer-dog. She's pretending she can hear scary things in another part of the house in the not-so-vain hope that it will freak me out enough to open the door and check. Minion of SATAN!!!

Second, today was Tuesday. Well, for  little under a half hour, today still is Tuesday. But that's not the point. The point is, Tuesdays mean marathons of Law & Order SVU on the USA Network. And let's face it, it's the best Law & Order out there. I'm so in tune with the SVU that I made sure to put my TV on the correct channel before I left for work, knowing that my DVR keeps up to four rewindable hours on a channel (assuming the cable has been on that channel for a continuous four hours) without having to waste DVR space on a rerun of a show I've seen a thousand times. That way, when I got home from work, there were four extra episodes on top of the ones that aired after I got home. I think I have turned being a couch potato into an Olympic Sport or something...

Third, I love blogging. I complain a lot (mostly to Sister) about how hard it is to come up with a topic each day--and I'm totally breaking the creativity bank with today, since this is like a blog in bullets, but even lazier--but I am so glad I started this blog. And I'm glad I've joined Twitter. You guys have been a bright shining light in the murky hazy darkness of the last week or so. I laugh out loud at most of my comments, followed by "Awww! There are real people reading my stuff!" followed by "Unless they're robots..." followed by "Who cares? They're freaking hilarious robots! And they're talking to ME!" So that's always fun. Plus, if you guys aren't reading the Sarcasm Goddess (her blog or her self-described "twats"), you're missing out. I'm pretty sure I've almost injured myself laughing every time she tweets at me. She gives out awards over at her blog for new followers--just don't bring an alligator as your date to the award show. I'm not so great with the drawings or the awards, so I'm just going to give her a hearty shout-out (Do people even say "shout-out" anymore? And I'm pretty sure the last time someone used "hearty" in that context was 1947. What is wrong with me?).

Okay, since a shout-out seems to be lame, I'll give her a good, old-fashioned, overly-specific, government-style title. Sarcasm Goddess, I now proclaim you Chief Bagel Spotter and Notification Specialist. For brevity, I understand if you keep the title of Goddess and just continue notifying me when you see bagels and not-bagels. A few more twats and you might just make it to Commissioner of the Department of Yeasty Round Things That Are Bagels and Other Yeasty Round Things That Are Not Bagels.

Fourth, I eat inappropriate meals. And I don't feel that bad about it. I've been doing WeightWatchers for years and am a full believer in the power of the program. And I truly believe that I can lose the rest of the weight if I stick to it. But I'm having a hard time caring. I mean, I care that my pants don't really fit. And I care that my body looks bad. But I can't manage to link the Kraft macaroni and cheese and Starbucks Java Chip Ice Cream I had for dinner with the tight pants. Logically, I know that ice cream and superpocessedradioactivecoloredpowderedcheesecoveredbleachedpastawithhalfastickofbutterandadollopofmilk is not a balanced or healthy meal. But it was so delicious, I can't find it in me to stop. Today, anyway. The next time I want to wear jeans instead of a jersey skirt is going to be a pretty rude awakening. But right now, this instant? I'm not really sorry...

Fifth, it's almost midnight and if I don't post this now, it's going to say I posted it on Wednesday. Which will ruin my justification for not posting this weekend (No one reads on the weekends anyway, so I'll just post every single day this week and that will make up for it). And will either make for two posts on Wednesday or the much-more-likely no actual Wednesday post. Which will really screw up my no-weekend-blogging self-justification. So I'm posting this incoherent mess with just a quick read through for typos and grammar. I can't promise it will be cohesive or comprehensible, but then again... I've never really promised that, have I? Which makes it easier on everyone when I don't deliver. Anyway, Happy Tuesday. I hope you enjoyed your SVU. Because you watched, right? RIGHT?