Riddle Me This

Let's say you have a cat. This cat, let's say it's a white male with green eyes, is frequently jumping up on things; he loves it. In fact, he's got a precision five foot vertical that gets him to the top of the cabinets in one graceful leap.

So, why would he misjudge a maybe 20 inch horizonal hop by 8 inches? And, more to the point, why does he have to misjudge it while attempting to clear something that's kind of important not to claw?



They are an even darker, rich blood color in real life. There's one on the other shin, too. Even more annoying, once the little bastard regained his composure, he sat there looking at me like, It's okay--I'm fine now. Whew! As I type, he is sitting next to me with a paw on my cheek, trying to get me to pet him, entirely insensible of the damage he's done to my legs. He's lucky he's so damned cute. At least he wasn't trying to jump over my face this time.

The Score

Knitting, 0. School, 5,686,346,902. Me, -467.

Still shooting for the 5th for a normal kind of fibery update. But as I take a few moments to rachet down the tension level to below "snapping point," feel the little one move around and maybe also the rather painful rib he seems to have cracked the other day, I can make a short

M's Culture Report

Regarding The Pussycat Dolls distinctly stripperish "Buttons": while I do think it's kind of a catchy song, I have a hard time believing any of the Pussycat Dolls would ever wear a garment so complicated as to require buttons.

Thought for the Day:

"Just once I'd like to have dinner with a celebrity that isn't bound and gagged."

--Bender