Mood: Many warring moods.
[Toot!] Index: 0.0
Communism Bit: Off
Location: Job, of course
Okay, so WordPress people, I can't comment on your blogs. Thingy says I'm commenting too fast, I should slow down. On my first comment. Bug.
Blogger people, we are still in our love-hate. I post when it works. Dee says the next Happy Hour is on the 24th. No miss.
On the Budo tragedy ... Ever the iconoclast, I'm into rejoicing. Thank God for the (n-19) children who survived the fire!  And also, thank God for showing us that there may be a wet-nosed four-foot heroine scampering about between our legs. The girl heroine, I mean, who died in helping her friends. A kiss, a hug, I breathe a prayer, for that little girl and her parents.
Now, some brightness.
I sneaked up on me cat and flipped her over. You see, she's been eating a lot, of late. I grew suspicious. I was buying more food, without knowing why it was going too fast. So, I crept up, and tossed her around.
And the little pink breasts looked back in startled shock and threw scared hands over their little bosoms and stared back, moving arms to shield the rest of their nakedness. But I had seen.
My cat is pregnant. So we got into the obligatory fight. Why didn't you tell me before? Don't you trust me? Don't you know I'm always going to support you? Et cetera. And we cried on each other's shoulders. And then, like most people who really care about you, I asked Tell me, who is the father? Is he a respectable cat with a solid financial standing? Is he honourable? His family? And she gave me that look of I was drunk, I don't know ... There were many cats. We were all drunk.
Okay. The truth is that I saw them. Back then, around a month ago, my cat got laid. So many male cats were around my place. She called for them (angering waul), and they came. By the dozen. They fought and fucked, and fought and fucked. She got pregnant, but I don't know who the father is, either. Actually, cats can conceive one litter with multiple fathers. There is the dark, furry tomcat with a deep growl. I hope he slipped a daughter in. ;o) I want the best kitties. Then there is the long, thin one. I want kitties! My camera batteries quit right when I saw her and her guys outside my window. There is this one tomcat I'm sure landed a son in there. I hate it because it's an uncouth, uncultured, dreadlocked, communist alley cat. It's ugly, too. But I saw it bound over the walls, once, when I chased it. The sheer athletic ease with which it leapt, the fluid, feline grace with which it landed onto the ledge ... Ah, them kitties will be nice. I knew right away, this one should have kitties with Space. Arranged marriages and shit.
So, I'm buying twice as much food, of late. I need to buy a padded basket for the kittens. Cats take nine weeks to give birth, so I have about a month left. Pregnant cats show much affection (mbu, it's good for the kitties), so I get home and submit to the relentless rubbing-against-me that she's taken up of late. But this will be her last, so she might as well have a blast while at it.
 Where n is the number of children who were in danger. In my time in Budo, what most people don't know, we had a fire. But nobody died. A few mattresses burnt, and that was it. I know that people who die in fires don't die of fire. They die of CO. When in a fire, stay as low as you can, because CO rises in the heat, and the non-poisonous air is below. You won't die of the fire - don't fear it. Fear the poisoned air.