The First of the Kitty Commandments
1. I am a cat, not a human, therefore I will not whine until someone flips the toilet lid up.
2. I will not walk around on my tiptoes with my back arched in a mincey kind of way, it is not comfortable and creeps my human roommates out.
3. I will not jump on top of a door that is only two inches wide and eight feet tall at two in the morning and then yowl so everyone will watch me, my human roommates do not think is it anywhere near that cool and will panic.
4. Whatever it is that they are doing with that swatch of toilet paper while sitting on the toilet is THEIR business, not mine, and I should keep my paws to myself.
5. The 5 dollar electric mouse my human male roommate bought for me is a toy, not the anti-christ, and is much more fun to play with than the plastic ring from a milk bottle.
6. I will not ignore my favorite plastic penis toy all day, only to start knocking it about with great fervor once a stranger walks into the house. They just won't understand.
7. I will not make a nest in the clean clothes, getting so comfortable that I only move a few inches to pee and then settle back down. My roommates do not think it smells of 'musky goodness'.
8. I will not fall onto my back with my tummy exposed, only to go psycho when someone tries to rub me. Hands are not the enemy.
9. I will not drool incessantly when I am comfortable on the bed, only to shake my head at one AM and splatter my roommates when I feel the need to get up and use the kitty box.
10. I will not stand in the kitchen and sing at 4 AM on the weekends just to hear my voice. It creeps out the humans and will not get me fed any quicker.
11. My roommate's feet are always attched to their legs and do not move on their own; therefore, they will not escape and I have no need to prevent such an event by gnawing on the nearest appendage.
12. I will not jump on the lower section of my male human roommate's body. It is funny, but then my female roommate gets grumpy for the rest of the night.
13. It may taste good to me, but licking the armpits of my roommates first thing in the morning will not endear me to them any more than licking other things that are equally as ticklish.
14. I will not attack my sister by jumping on her tummy until she barfs, because I am not the one who has to clean it up, or step in it three minutes before I have to be somewhere important.

How to NOT Be Madonna
Okay, everyone knows that I worship Madge ONLY pre-bullshit "Ray of Light", notwithstanding of course maybe two (?) songs that actaully have some staying power. And NO, for the luvva gawd, Frozen is not one of them. Everything else is crap after the eighties, but I digress.
One of the beautiful things about Madonna, husband aside, is that she literally flows with the times. When music changes, she changes, and that is a not often found quality in today's music because today, everybody's got a 'thing'. There is timeless, and there is having a 'thing'.
To wit: Vivaldi. Timeless. TONS of people still listen to classical music because it transcends a time period. Avril Lavigne: a 'thing'. She's great now because she's a cute teenager who writes songs about what she knows, and apparently she knows about being pressured for sex and sk8r bois. Don't get me wrong, I love Avril, but can you see her writing about what she knows when she's 30? 40? Wearing those ridiculous arm warmers and baggy pants? Her 'thing' is angsty punk-pop, and maybe she'll make it another five, six years, but I don't see any evolving here.
These are just the examples here, kids. Today's music, while good great and otherwise, is all about the now. In time, it will fade and be forgotten, with the exception of only a few, because everyone's got a gimmick. Older tunes from the 70s, 80s, and early 90s will follow us to our graves.
I don't know if it's all a good thing or a bad thing, I'm just blogging.

"Not Fade Away"....
DEAD?!?? Wesley's DEAD??
Fuck me running.
Yeah, it's over. My second favorite show ever has, forgive the pun, bitten the big one. Joss Whedon was angry, David Greenwalt was angry, the cast was angry, the fans were furious, and boyola did it show in the final episode of Angel. Here's a breakdown, before I have one of my own:

Wesley Wyndham-Price: Dead, gutted by demon, avenged by Illyria
Gunn: Greviously wounded, estimated ten minutes to live at ending credits
Lindsey: Dead, recruited by the good guys only to be deceived by Lorne and shot dead
Lorne: MIA, shot Lindsey for Angel and then departed never to be seen again
Illyria: Alive, mourning Wesley and ready to commit more violence at ending credits
Connor: (Yeah, you heard me, CONNOR) Alive, sent running by Angel while Wolfram and Hart collapsed around their ears
Hamilton: Dead, neck shattered by Angel at the last POSSIBLE freaking minute
Harmony: Alive, betrayed them all to Hamilton, taking Angel's references to new job at ending credits
Spike: Alive and kicking at ending credits
ANGEL: Alive and kicking at ending credits
Trust me kids, you DON'T want to know how it ended. Really. You don't. Suffice to say that we have three healthy good guys and one fading one against the 30,000 demons of Wolfram and Hart...
Fade to black.
Here's to five of the best years, Angelus. Thank god you're on DVD.
And for you ASSHOLES who know me too well, yeah, I cried. Sobbed, actually. But then, I cried at Buffy too and that was a MUCH happier ending.

Van Helsing: Hot-cha!
Go see it. I won't go off about this flick, because in my honest opinion Van Helsing is a movie which you either love it or hate it. I loved it, you yourself may hate it. I was slightly disappointed by the ending, which left it WAY open for a sequel but didn't explain much. However, Hugh Jackman is HOT and therefore I forgive the movie's few shortcomings. And, I suppose, Kate Beckinsale is equally high up on the hot-o-meter, but she just got married last weekend to her boyfriend, so sorry ladies.
AND Van Helsing took in 54.6 million on its opening weekend, while Troy took in an industry-upsetting 46.5 million. It looks like Brad Pitt in Troy is more Troy Donahue than Troy the juggernaut. Tee-hee.

And the WB still sucks. Tomorrow night marks the final episode of Angel, and from what I've read there's a lot of bitterness reflected in the last hour. Someone dies, someone decides it's not worth it, and there is nothing like the happier-than-expected ending to Buffy in sight. God help me, the boycott starts at 10 pm tomorrow night. Grab your bootstraps kids, the fight is ON!
Whatever. Just me, who's going to care?

Hatches Battened; Storm Passed
The neighbor didn't come by. I was upset, I was kinda actually hoping to tell her she's stupid. Ironically enough, by her not coming over she proved just how ridiculously much we DON'T need her around to ruin our nights. I hope she stays away.

--The difference between irony and sarcasm is that irony happens naturally; sarcasm must be manufactured for the moment.

Tying the Yellow Ribbon
I have always admired the people in this country brave enough to broadcast their patriotism by plastering their houses and vehicles with the proverbial yellow ribbons. I myself am not that patriotic, I have issues with the military and their culture, and I don't think we should still be in Iraq. However, with one phone call, my views may have changed slightly. Only slightly, but they have changed.
My cousin-by-marriage, Joey, is going to Iraq next week. I don't know what job he has in the army, I don't even know how long he's been in, but next week he's shipping off to the hot spot.
I don't condone the military's presence in Iraq, I don't watch the news, I'm actually really not that interested enough to care. But now, a splinter of my life is worming its way into the heart of all that which I ignore. I don't really know Joey that well, but he has been around in my life since I was very small, and to think that he is going over there chills my blood. Someone I know is over there now. Someone I KNOW. I won't get into the politics.
I will, however, tie one of those cheap plastic ribbons around my stairway railing.
Someone I KNOW is over there.

Batten Down the Hatches, She's A-Comin!
The ex-neighbor from hell is coming over tonight, kiddies! Standby for details!

Oh yeah, and the WB still sucks.

In Defense of Angel
I know, I know, I'm getting worse and worse at updating, but ya know what? Don't care. This ain't a thousand-circulation paper, and GAWD knows that this is more of my musings set to screen that no one cares about.
But I defer. I did want to write a bunch of random bon mots that I've heard and said lately....but no, I'd rather sleep than compile research. I was REALLY tempted to write about the abuse stories from Iraq, being ex-military myself, but then....too spicy for this early in the morning. Maybe later. HOWEVER, since it is Thursday morning, I feel the need to pontificate about a subject very near and dear to my heart...
The cancellation of Angel.
With last night's confusing-till-the-very-end episode out of the way, one of my favorite series is only on more Wednesday away from the final curtain. Next week, our favorite hottie with a soul is calling it a century with only five years under it's belt. I am devastated. What will I do while I wait for the DVD?
Simple. I finish the long-anticipated (for some of not by all) Candra Chronicles. At least there, there is no forseeable ending in sight. However, for those of you keeping track (hi shippers!), a THIRD cycle has begun. But I digress with the bragging.
The WB is making a mistake. It's going to lose a lot of viewers, all rabid fans of Angel and Co., and without a decent show to make up for it I see a forthcoming backlash. That may just be me, of course. However, I will ramain faithful to that which is Angel and continue my boycott of the WB once it's over.
Alas, Angel, we never got to see you totally naked. It's time for David Boreanaz to do an R-rated flick so that my fantasies can be more vivid. But don't tell my husband that.

Word of the Day, and Kill Bill Rocks
Pimperish: adjective; pimped out, supa fly, bling-blinged. Also: Pimpricious. As in: "Oh my god check out my car it is SO pimperish ain't it?"
Moving on.
So I went and saw Kill Bill Volume 2 back on the weekend it came out, and I must say, although it is VERY different from the first Kill Bill, it is still Tarantino. Serious Tarantino. If you're looking for the blood and caca-guts of the first movie, however, you will be disappointed. Just a friendly warning. NEXT!

The Britster Strikes Again
Fucking saints preseve me from watching MTV ever again. From now on, I stick to 'Surviving Nugent' on VH1. Jeesus.
So I have nothing to watch, and I figure 'll just post every few minutes with random thoughts until my computer poops out on me, and the New Britney video comes on. Oh, wah, her life is SO hard that she has to put out such a controversial video to distract the public from her ridiculously outlandish and tasteless behavior. WHAT ever. No, seriously, have you ever seen it? She's bleeding, and then she's drowning or something, and there's this whole thing with a baby....
I don't fucking get it. I just know that I am SICK and TIRED of music videos turning into nothing more than ads for Jacob the Jeweler and 1-800-FUCK-ME-HARD numbers. Really. Whatever happened to music for the sake of music? Videos for pure entertainment instead of shameless self-promotion?
Okay, I'll try that again. I understand that videos are nothing more then shameless self-promotion, that's why they're made. But COME ON NOW...
I miss the MTV of the eighties. Now THAT was entertaining.