Sunday, January 23, 2005

They're After Me! That's Right! All of Them...

Now those of you who actually bother to read this blog every ay (all one or two of you) probably got pissy during the last week because I hadn't posted.

Well I want you to know it's a consipiracy. You see, I did post. Some critics were already calling it the bestest post ever. But then, when I clicked submit, my whole world went dark. Well, maybe not dark, but I did get an error message.

My heart stopped.

I reanimated myself. Thinking not-very quickly, I finally thought to press the back button while telling a friend about the situation in wailing tones on IM.

And here's the part that's really difficult to say. When I pressed back, my posting still wasn't there. The title was all that remained. Now, as you know, I don't do short posts. I know I'm not the bestest at posting on a daily basis and all that stuff. But when I do post, it's never one or two lines. No, instead, I offer you a mile long diarrhea attack of randomness. And apparently somebody likes that enough to now want to list me on their site. Someone who's not a friend of mine. The whole thing would move me very deeply if I wasn't already so freaking hormonal and moved so deeply about the fact that I have a split nail again.

Anyway, that posting is gone. And the idea of recreating it just didn't work. I had to do that once and the posting ended up being lame and flat. Even more than usual.

So I just sobbed quietly, while hoping the world would just swallow me whole. But then, I realized something. Google didn't eat my blog. My Internet provider who overcharges us way too much but who Sweetie Pie, the supposed computer expert says is what we need for him to run his computer business, wasn't responsible for this either. It's the government.

You see, in my posting I made an Osama joke. I said something the lines of "unless you live in a rock (Hi Osama, please stop reading my blog you freaking bastard)" and now I think the government thinks I send the Bastard secret messages through my blog. Maybe they think "catwoman" is the plot to get all cats to act as Al Quaeda minions.

Which really doesn't make sense. I can't even get my cats to stay off the kitchen counters. Let alone convince them to attack. Now labs could easily fall under the influence of terrorists groups. Our lab is so insanely busy trying to please us, I'm sure they could all be used for evil instead of good.

I hope the government didn't see my previous post, delete it and are studying it in an FBI office somewhere going "look at the randomness of the thoughts. It's obviously not a real blog. We have to read between the lines."

So I'm here to tell you nice FBI people (who if Without a Trace is accurate at all) tend to be very hot and very intense that I'm just some moron who read a friend's blog and went "cool I want one!" and has had absolutely nothing to say since but gets yelled at if she doesn't post regularly enough.

Please don't make me have my baby in jail... I promise to only post about bunnies and rainbows from now on.

On another note, we had dinner at a couple's house last night and they gave us a pregnancy diary. I didn't know such a thing existed and I really thought I knew it all. But here is my concern with the gift. One, I haven't written for the first 7 1/2 weeks, so now the baby will think I hate it. And two, considering at how good I am at blogging, I'm now also going to have to remember to write in that every day.

The interesting thing about the diary is that it starts with day one of the pregnancy, which is the last day of your previous period, when you weren't even technically pregnant yet. So what the hell would I have written there? I need a pregnancy diaries for dummies people.

It's a very sweet gift though and I was very touched by it. Although at the time, I was more starved than anything, so I think I might have paid more attention to the guacamole on the table than the actual gift. But hopefully friends would understand this and not take offense to it.

The funniest part of the diary is our friends wrote the sweetest note inside the front cover of it to us. I'm talking so sweet, the kind that on an emotional day will make me cry. But then, they also included the gift receipt from Target in case we wanted to exchange it. Can you imagine somebody else getting this book as a gift and being like "who the hell are Catwoman and Sweetie Pie you cheap bitch?"

Reminds me of that Everybody Loves Raymond episode where Ray's parents return the toaster that he had engraved with his whole family's name and when they go to get it back, a lady is telling the clerk "you got the names all wrong on this toaster, my kids' names are..."

Probably not very funny if you haven't seen the episode and are reading it in this manner. It's also the episode where one of my favorite lines in TV history occurs. Marie fights with Frank in the store and tells him "I'm not just a trophy wife you know!" That line makes me cry every time. But then when Frank replies "If you're a trophy wife, what kind of sick lottery did I win." Ah, that is comedy greatness.

Of course, if you've never seen the show, once again, probably doesn't come off as very funny.

But I'm hoping the FBI folks are big fans and they're laughing so hard right now that they decide to let me keep my little green card.

Love,

Catwoman.

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