A few days ago, Zoey was chasing a beetle that had gotten inside and was flying around. I was getting pretty annoyed at the whole spectacle, so after about fifteen minutes of this, I got up and swatted the beetle with a rolled up magazine.

“Ohhh, who’s the great hunter now?” I asked Zoey. He swatted once at the dead beetle, then went off to sulk. “Just remember, Zoey, I’m the man of the house.”

I don’t quite know which is sadder: me taking away my cat’s play toy, or me feeling the need to remind Zoey that I’m the man of the house.

Anyway, I’m off to Wichita for a few days to visit with Janelle’s family. Be back soon!

Yesterday, on the way out of Wal-Mart, we tripped the alarm. You know, the one that goes off when you try to steal merchandise? (My father tried to push both me and the cart out of the store before anyone showed up, but that’s besides the point.) We got searched and it turns out some sunglasses (that we paid for) were the culprits.

We got home and discovered that a portion of our groceries were missing. Blueberries, strawberries, chocolate… All the good stuff. We checked out receipt, and sure enough, we had paid for it all. I blame the turnstile bagging mechanism.

But this isn’t just about the loss of a few berries and some stuff we probably shouldn’t be eating. This is about justice! We were accused of stealing, when we were in fact the stolen from. My dad briefly considered suing Wal-Mart, and I was forced to make my guacamole with a lemon instead of a lime (and don’t even get me started on breakfast this morning).

Anyway, today, we made our way back there. (Unfortunately, without the receipt.) We were unable to recover any of our lost groceries, so we made our purchases and left, dejected. When we got in the car, we discovered we were the proud new owners of some ranch dressing and Louisiana hot sauce that we had not paid for. Being the morally upright citizens that we are, we were glad to see cosmic justice in effect. Tomorrow night: hot wings.

I forgot to post on this, but I am now in sunny south Florida. Sorry to all my friends down here who didn’t know. Give me a call and maybe we can hang out.

Anyway, I’m staying with my dad, for now. Marisa (my sister) and her boyfriend Alex are also here. We went diving this morning and caught a lobster, but we threw him back because it’s not lobster season right now.

Anyway, I have a camera with me, so expect a few pictures when I get back (Monday), but not until then, because I forgot my USB cable.

I’m not doing so well. I myself am fine, but a number of my friends are going through hell right now. For their sakes, I’ll spare you the details.

To the two people responsible, just know that I harbor no ill will toward you and will continue to support you as I always have—as a friend. My own dismay is born solely out of concern for you and the other involved parties. I want to support you, but I don’t know how. I will continue to be here in the coming months.

To the two people most affected, my heart goes out to you. No, this isn’t fair, but your noble reactions have already impressed me. I will also support you as much as I can.

And to my friend with the potential medical issue, just know that I am praying for you and will do everything I can to bring you through this. You’ve made it through this before, and I know you’ll make it through it again. Let me know if you need anything—anything—and I’ll be right by your side, as will Janelle, and as I’m sure your love will be.

So Saturday was moving day again at the Gregory household. We packed up Tilly and all of her toys (consisting of a few scraps of paper and some pillbox caps… she has weird taste in toys) and drove her over to Landon’s apartment. She darted under the bed shortly after she got there and stayed there for a good seven hours. She did come around, though.

The saddest part, though, is Zoey. Zoey loved Tilly. After we removed Tilly, he pretty much made the master bedroom his permanent residence. We had company over that night, and throughout dinner and one round of Settlers of Catan, Zoey came down exactly twice, and that was to eat, and then went right back up. We went up to visit him a few times and found that he had moved behind the now-open door and was pouting there, staring blankly at the wall. Now, when I get home from work, he at least comes down from the bedroom to hang out, but heads right back up there after a few minutes. I think he’s coming around now and realizing that Tilly’s not in there, but he’s not happy about it.

The good news is, we get Sherlock on Wednesday. Of course, we’re getting him right after he gets neutered, so we’ll have to keep them separated while his stitches heal up. Hopefully that will be a better experience for all of us.

So, on my recent comic strip kick, I was talking about them with some friends last night, and Alan brought up a week of Garfield comics back in the 80s that took a turn for the deathly serious. I was able to track them down online. These ran in 1989, and they are indeed real.

Existential Garfield

So it’s official. Landon’s taking Tilly to live with him in his new apartment. We figured this out sometime last week. Friday, when I got to work, I had an e-mail from Janelle with a bunch of links to cats on Petfinder. We ended up inquiring as to one of them, and got suggested another cat, whom we will very likely be getting next week.

Meet Sherlock. (That picture is slightly Photoshopped.) Being that he’s another rescue kitty, we can’t be sure of his lineage, but his mother is a Ragdoll/Himalayan mix (just like Franny!). Also, notice how large he is in that picture. He’s eight months old. So we could be dealing with a giant. At least Zoey won’t be able to push him around.

I debated not posting this, but it’s too funny to pass up.

I had a conversation with a few co-workers a while back about how to name some of our internal training classes. When it got to my class on personality types, this exchange happened:

person 1: How about, “How to work with your schizophrenic co-workers”?
person 2: Ooh! How about, “How to work with bipolar people”?

Seriously, what are the odds?

Just a disclaimer: I’m not really all that offended by this.

So, for our most recent pitch party, we’re cooking up a ton of food. (Pitch is a card game for four or five players, if you don’t know. We’re going to have four tables.) Here’s the menu:

• Bruschetta chips with mozzarella slices
• Puff pastry shells filled with key lime pie filling and pumpkin pie filling
• Cranberry Brie phillo cups
• Chocolate peanut butter cookies
• Corn salsa
• Cheesy bean dip
• Beer bread
• Barbecue meatballs (wouldn’t be a Kansas City party without barbecue something)

Just some real quick notes on the above…

Corn Salsa

Get a package of frozen corn. (If you’re feeling extra-motivated, you can get fresh corn and grill it.) Dice a red onion, a green bell pepper, and a green jalapeño pepper (optional, dice it really finely if you use it). Drain and add one can of black beans. Drizzle with some olive oil and slowly mix in a tablespoon or two of cumin.

Cheesy Bean Dip

Equal parts refried beans and Velveeta, cubed. Melt, and keep warm.

Cranberry Brie Phillo Cups

Buy two or three packages of frozen phillo shells. (Make sure they’re shells and not just dough!) Also get some Brie cheese and canned cranberry sauce with whole berries. Put a small chunk of Brie cheese in each shell and top with a dollop of cranberry sauce. Bake according to directions on phillo cups.

That’s all I’ve got.

In response to Janelle’s recent blog posts, I’ve come up with some wedding advice of my own.

Disclaimer: This is all crap.

Who to Marry

Marry someone you won’t fight with. This is actually impossible, but I’d feel bad if I didn’t tell you that first. Make sure you’ve had at least one serious, relationship-rocking fight before you make the decision to get married. (That’s probably the only solid piece of advice in this whole post, actually.) It’s also a good idea to invest in a Playstation and maintain separate living rooms.

Marry someone who can cook. Unless you can cook. Then, marry someone can’t cook, so they will appreciate the fact that you cook. If you don’t cook and you can’t find someone who cooks, marry someone who manages a restaurant. Unless you manage a restaurant. You can probably figure out the rest.

How to Marry

In deciding what kind of wedding to have (or whether to elope), you must ask yourself one important question, and that is, “Is this person going to plan a wedding that will embarass me?” If you both have similar tastes, plan a wedding. If you produce indie films and your partner works at the Build-a-Bear Workshop, go to Vegas.

Never, under any circumstances, do a cat wedding (for people) (or for cats).

Vows

Refer to the above section.

Traditions

Two of the most persistent traditions at weddings are the bouquet toss and the garter toss. These are not fun. They can be made palatable by altering the outcome—for instance, throwing the garter directly at the guy who just needs to hurry the hell up and ask his girlfriend to marry him. Better throw the bouquet at him too. Make sure to seat him near the front for easy access.

All speeches should be written in iambic pentameter. This ensures that only people who know how to write well will give longer speeches. Also, the rhyming couplet at the end signals that the speech is, in fact, over, eliminating that awkward is-it-over-or-is-this-just-awkward moment in the audience.

Unity candle. Seriously, what the hell?

Throwing rice constitutes a food fight, and when you throw food at me, it means war. I have direct access to both the cake and the caterer. Don’t throw rice at me, because I will not hesitate to lodge a dinner roll in your throat.

In ancient Rome, the wedding cake was actually more like bread, made from wheat or barley, and was broken over the the bride’s head as a symbol of her fertility. More traditional weddings today will have the bride and groom smash the cake into each other’s faces as a symbol of their joint fertility. If you don’t want to have kids for a while, don’t even touch the cake. Best not to take any chances.

String quartets add a nice antiquated feel to a wedding and are highly recommended for anyone born in the 18th century.

When to Marry

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