[Looks at the Link List running along the right sidebar]
Oh, Link List...I see you in my future.
You're definitely on my "Needs To Be Fixed" List for the weekend.
Consider yourself warned.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Twittering twit
I can't believe I've been backstabbed. Someone pull this knife out of my spine. Normally, I'd be crushed, but this time, I'm downright flabbergasted.
Yes, my friends: flabber and gasted.
So while I may not let my human pet blog about her daily happenings, she's found a way to communicate to the masses behind my back. I highly suggest you ignore her. No good can come of this.
In order to know what you're ignoring, make sure not to click HERE.
We don't need her getting any ideas about stealing my thunder. It's tempting, I know, but really...show some self-restraint and walk away. We're about to have a good ol' fashioned throw-down here. Someone better give me fitty feet...
P.S. After thinking about it, this isn't too bad. Now, I'll know where she is and what she's doing whenever she updates. Oh, I never need to leave the house again. Wait a minute. I never leave anyhow. Regardless...I totally kick ass.
Yes, my friends: flabber and gasted.
So while I may not let my human pet blog about her daily happenings, she's found a way to communicate to the masses behind my back. I highly suggest you ignore her. No good can come of this.
In order to know what you're ignoring, make sure not to click HERE.
We don't need her getting any ideas about stealing my thunder. It's tempting, I know, but really...show some self-restraint and walk away. We're about to have a good ol' fashioned throw-down here. Someone better give me fitty feet...
P.S. After thinking about it, this isn't too bad. Now, I'll know where she is and what she's doing whenever she updates. Oh, I never need to leave the house again. Wait a minute. I never leave anyhow. Regardless...I totally kick ass.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Thanks, Macy Gray, for sponsoring this post
While sipping my morning brew, I looked through scores and scores of templates. Know that sick and disgusting feeling you get at the bottom of your stomach when you suspect you just got yourself into a big hole that you can't get yourself out of? I had that the whole time while I sifted thru those wretched thumbnails.
*BEEP* off, HTML. Why do you have to be so *BEEP*ing hard?
I could try this one...
Or this one...
Or hey, what about this?
But I think the main emphasis needs to be on just one syllable here: Try.
Because in the end, when I manage to screw this blog's appearance worse than an afghan hound's fur caught in a windstorm, I'll be left with only one thing left to say...
At least I tried.
*BEEP* off, HTML. Why do you have to be so *BEEP*ing hard?
I could try this one...
Or this one...
Or hey, what about this?
But I think the main emphasis needs to be on just one syllable here: Try.
Because in the end, when I manage to screw this blog's appearance worse than an afghan hound's fur caught in a windstorm, I'll be left with only one thing left to say...
At least I tried.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
I came back for this?
Holy freakin' hell.
Could this comeback be any harder?
I'm blaming you, you three formerly subscribed, now unsubscribed readers. Didn't think a cat would notice the difference between 9 and 6? Yeah, I saw it. I may be a cat, but I'm not freakin' dyslexic. Were you only sticking around to read the archives? Were you too intimidated by my return to deal with new material? I hope you choke on my periods, quotations, and fabulously misdirected renderings done with Microsoft Paint.
No, really.
Could it?
Blogger tells you, "Excuse me, Zeus, but your template is so blaise. You need to upgrade! Click >>>HERE<<<"
Click.
Poof!
Pop!
Pizang!
Blogger tells you, "Oh, sorry to tell you, Zeus, but there goes your widget-thingie-majigs and your whatsits and your shenanigans. You can always find time to fix it though!"
Freakin' hell. Freakin' freakity freaked out to freakin' hell and back hell.
Oh well...
[A sound reminscient of hammering can be heard...]
Applications now being accepted. And for the love of all that's holy: Do something about this hairball puke green background.
Could this comeback be any harder?
No, really.
Could it?
Blogger tells you, "Excuse me, Zeus, but your template is so blaise. You need to upgrade! Click >>>HERE<<<"
Click.
Poof!
Pop!
Pizang!
Blogger tells you, "Oh, sorry to tell you, Zeus, but there goes your widget-thingie-majigs and your whatsits and your shenanigans. You can always find time to fix it though!"
Freakin' hell. Freakin' freakity freaked out to freakin' hell and back hell.
Oh well...
[A sound reminscient of hammering can be heard...]
Applications now being accepted. And for the love of all that's holy: Do something about this hairball puke green background.
Monday, February 23, 2009
The Earlier Early Edition of the Thursday Thirteen
Thirteen Things That Happened To Us Since August 30, 2007
1. The human pet started working at Huntington Learning Center, increasing my time without her to a much more acceptable level.
2. The human pet began tutoring high school and college students with disabilities in her so-called "off-time", further increasing my time without her to an even more acceptable level.
3. She even took several trips: Las Vegas, Pittsburgh, the bathroom. All were fascinating.
4. Did I mention trips? Yes, she fell down the stairs as well. Not just once, but twice. In the same day, no. Total stairs traveled: Eighteen. (One set was fifteen while the other was three.) Was she drunk? We wish. It might have been more understandable. Instead, we're left to ponder the inevitable reality that our human pet is an uncoordinated slump of mass.
5. The human pet has finally reached the ending of her masters. She graduates in May. Hopefully, they don't have any stairs for her to descend in order to grab the sheepskin. However, we're now waiting on the University of Houston to see if the pet gets accepted into a doctorate program. We wonder if she's going to study Swan Diving. She'd be good at that.
6. We celebrated the human pet's thirtieth birthday on September 10th. We were actually going to blog about that but then realized we would have to come up with thirty things that were nice about her. That honestly didn't sit well with us since we're both not into lying.
7. Speaking of lying, Hurricane Ike was no lie. No joke either. No fun as well. We spent ten days without electricity. The human pet took the time to get to know the neighbors in drunken bliss, leaving us to our water and Purina One. She could have brought beer back, but did she? It's always all about her.
8. There's been lots of card games happening here. Texas Hold 'Em. Phase 10. Uno. It's much fun to watch other humans yell at the human pet when she doesn't shout "Uno". Behavioral theorists might have a hard time explaining why after the 1000th time of being yelled at for not shouting "Uno" the human pet still does not cry out.
9. The legend of Kit is no more. (For those who do not know who Kit is, he was the wonderfully faithful '98 Plymouth Neon that my human pet used to ride back and forth on.) The new guy, Rocky ('08 Chevy Aveo with the pimped out rims), is way more sexier. And yes, "more sexier" is appropriate since "sexier" just doesn't quite cut it.
10. The human pet's mama and papa came to visit, along with some younger sibling of the human pet's named Gino. They came down for July 4th weekend, and they actually weren't too bad. The mama-type slept on the couch, and it was great fun antagonizing the papa-type. Though he didn't say much, it was apparent how badly he wanted to bat us off him. That made tormenting him all the more fun.
11. Speaking of family, the human pet's cousin was diagnosed with cancer. Though he is doing much better now, we continue to pray for him. He's not out of the figurative woods yet. (You didn't expect all of this to be happy-go-lucky, did you?)
12. The human pet's sister became engaged not too long ago to some guy we know as the Joe. We've never met the Joe, but word on the street is that he is a good guy with a passion for playing something called the Wii. To the Joe, we salute you. It takes much courage to want to be a part of the human pet's family.
13. Finally, we came back to blogging on February 23, 2009. We think that's a pretty big achievement since we had ultimately said we would never pick up paw to keyboard again. You can all blame yourselves for leaving all of those comments and kudos. It apparently went to our heads.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Bleh
After last night, I don't think the human pet will be letting me on the computer anytime soon. I chewed through a shoe, puked on the bed, and then puked the length of the hallway to show her I meant business about this blog. I was merely trying to point out to her to let me back online, but I think my plan of protest backfired.
Monday, August 20, 2007
What happened to you?
Hello friends,
I know, I know. It's been more than a week since an update, and I'm sure some of you have been wondering what happened to me. Well, life has been more than busy on this end. With the beginning of the school year and housecleaning, as well as a few meetings here and there, the human pet has issued a lock down on the computer. I'm lucky that I even got to the keyboard this morning!
Isis and I are doing well so have no worries. We promise we will write again soon, but as always, keep in mind we're at the whims of our pet. Clearly, we need to revisit who is in charge here.
I know, I know. It's been more than a week since an update, and I'm sure some of you have been wondering what happened to me. Well, life has been more than busy on this end. With the beginning of the school year and housecleaning, as well as a few meetings here and there, the human pet has issued a lock down on the computer. I'm lucky that I even got to the keyboard this morning!
Isis and I are doing well so have no worries. We promise we will write again soon, but as always, keep in mind we're at the whims of our pet. Clearly, we need to revisit who is in charge here.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Flea Games, Chapter 12: The Novice
Previous Chapter(s):
Stealth is the key to any successful scouting mission, and there are several main points in achieving this skill. Maintaining a limited amount of noise and attempting to remain down-wind so one's scent does not alert the enemy can save a scout's hide. Also, rushing through the job is not recommended. A scout's best ally is the terrain, and she should always try to use the landscape to her advantage, never silhouetting herself as her enemy might potentially spot her.
All of these would have been wonderful tips for Isis to know prior to her mission.
The microwave clock ticked by ever so slowly as Isis sat and watched the minutes linger. Nine minutes had passed, and it had been excruciating for her. She had scratched her ears, stretched, gotten up to swat at her own tail, and had even reached for leftover milk jug rings under the refrigerator; however, none of these tactics had really made the time go any faster for her.
When the tenth digitally blue minute had ticked, Isis bounded for the garage, screaming in a loud voice, "I'ma scoutin' now, bitches!"
Had she been able to see the look on her brother's face, she might have realized her mistake in announcing her oncoming arrival to the garage.
Bursting through the pet door, Isis leaped into the darkness of the garage. The heat was practically stifling, but she did not let this bother her. There was work to be done, important work that only she could do. It was her one chance to prove to her brother that she was indeed just as cunning as he was.
Isis padded softly across the warm concrete and headed for the washer and dryer located in the left-hand corner. She leapt up on top of the washer and circled a few times to make it appear as though she were settling down for a nap. After bathing her front paws a few times and rubbing the sides of her face, she laid her head upon her front legs and closed her eyes. If all went well, whatever was inside the garage would believe her to be sleeping, and she could discover the truth behind the sneeze that so intrigued her brother.
Time seemed to slow down exponentially as soon as her lids had closed. What had seemed like such a brilliant plan was soon to be Isis' downfall as her natural instincts took over. Her breathing slowed, her eyes fluttered, and soon, her whiskers swayed back and forth as her soft snores purred from her.
"No...worries," she whispered half to herself as she came closer to deep sleep. "The monsters will believe...this...for sure..."
The last thing Isis heard before she fell asleep was the softest pitter-patter as over one million feet marched across the concrete straight for her.
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
Stealth is the key to any successful scouting mission, and there are several main points in achieving this skill. Maintaining a limited amount of noise and attempting to remain down-wind so one's scent does not alert the enemy can save a scout's hide. Also, rushing through the job is not recommended. A scout's best ally is the terrain, and she should always try to use the landscape to her advantage, never silhouetting herself as her enemy might potentially spot her.
All of these would have been wonderful tips for Isis to know prior to her mission.
The microwave clock ticked by ever so slowly as Isis sat and watched the minutes linger. Nine minutes had passed, and it had been excruciating for her. She had scratched her ears, stretched, gotten up to swat at her own tail, and had even reached for leftover milk jug rings under the refrigerator; however, none of these tactics had really made the time go any faster for her.
When the tenth digitally blue minute had ticked, Isis bounded for the garage, screaming in a loud voice, "I'ma scoutin' now, bitches!"
Had she been able to see the look on her brother's face, she might have realized her mistake in announcing her oncoming arrival to the garage.
Bursting through the pet door, Isis leaped into the darkness of the garage. The heat was practically stifling, but she did not let this bother her. There was work to be done, important work that only she could do. It was her one chance to prove to her brother that she was indeed just as cunning as he was.
Isis padded softly across the warm concrete and headed for the washer and dryer located in the left-hand corner. She leapt up on top of the washer and circled a few times to make it appear as though she were settling down for a nap. After bathing her front paws a few times and rubbing the sides of her face, she laid her head upon her front legs and closed her eyes. If all went well, whatever was inside the garage would believe her to be sleeping, and she could discover the truth behind the sneeze that so intrigued her brother.
Time seemed to slow down exponentially as soon as her lids had closed. What had seemed like such a brilliant plan was soon to be Isis' downfall as her natural instincts took over. Her breathing slowed, her eyes fluttered, and soon, her whiskers swayed back and forth as her soft snores purred from her.
"No...worries," she whispered half to herself as she came closer to deep sleep. "The monsters will believe...this...for sure..."
The last thing Isis heard before she fell asleep was the softest pitter-patter as over one million feet marched across the concrete straight for her.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Thursday Thirteen, Edition #37
Thirteen Ways For Me
To Make Money For My Human Pet
To Make Money For My Human Pet
1. I could organize a feline harem, rounding up the strays that prowl my neighborhood, and putting them to work on the street corners.
2. I could sell my sister, Isis, off to the highest bidder.
3. I could shave my fur and put it up for auction on eBay.
4. I could set up my own store via Cafe Press and sell Zeus Excuse memorabilia.
5. I could write a novel.
6. I could replicate crop circles in my litter, take photos, and sell them off to the public.
7. I could join the circus as The Amazing Snoring Zeus: Snores so loud, they shake the very fabric of your being!
8. I could tour again with my lounge singer act: Zelvis.
9. I could work as an English interpreter for The Feline Theocracy.
10. I could have my sister work at a local bakery to knead dough with her claws instead of kneading holes in my throne.
11. I could open up an exterminator business for local homes. Bugs don't stand a chance!
12. I could enter the National Spelling Bee and clean house!
13. I could stand at street intersections, with rags in paw, wiping the windshields of cars passing by for donations. I'm sure the very fact that I am willing to get wet for my pet will be more than enough for money to flow.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Quit monkeying around!
Within India, there exists a coexistence and a conflict between the Hindus and Muslims. Identity is no longer determined by the various social groups one may belong to such as gender or race but rather, simply by which religion a person practices. Perhaps the problem is one of liberal versus extremist, but nonetheless, the focus of the prejudice and animosity is a matter of faith for most people.
Imagine my surprise then, dear friends, when I saw the following:
Upon watching this, I couldn't help but hear Tina Turner singing in my head, "What's love got to do, got to do with it?"
And really: What does love got to do with it?
Did anyone ask these two monkeys if they were seriously committed to one another?
Did anyone ask them if they were alright in becoming spokesprimates for the entire Hindu-Muslim conflict?
Did someone inform them of their obligations and responsibilities as religious diplomats and agents of peace?
Clearly, though, the more important issues were taken care of first: calls to Cover Girl for the inside scoop as to which long-lasting, cream-based eyeshadows were appropriate for this time of year and research with Bride Magazine as to the latest monkey couture wedding dresses.
Humans, humans, humans...
When will you get it through your thick skulls that just because two monkeys get married doesn't mean their poop suddenly stops getting thrown at you the very next day?
And what exactly would that mean for the already troubled Hindu-Muslim relations?
Nothing but more crap.
Imagine my surprise then, dear friends, when I saw the following:
Upon watching this, I couldn't help but hear Tina Turner singing in my head, "What's love got to do, got to do with it?"
And really: What does love got to do with it?
Did anyone ask these two monkeys if they were seriously committed to one another?
Did anyone ask them if they were alright in becoming spokesprimates for the entire Hindu-Muslim conflict?
Did someone inform them of their obligations and responsibilities as religious diplomats and agents of peace?
Clearly, though, the more important issues were taken care of first: calls to Cover Girl for the inside scoop as to which long-lasting, cream-based eyeshadows were appropriate for this time of year and research with Bride Magazine as to the latest monkey couture wedding dresses.
Humans, humans, humans...
When will you get it through your thick skulls that just because two monkeys get married doesn't mean their poop suddenly stops getting thrown at you the very next day?
And what exactly would that mean for the already troubled Hindu-Muslim relations?
Nothing but more crap.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Flea Games, Chapter 11: Sister Scout
Previous Chapter(s):
As Isis walked by the sofa to stretch out on her back underneath the mosaic coffee table, he said to her, "I believe you should go on a scouting mission, Isis."
Isis' eyes grew wide, and her ears perked as she turned her attention to Zeus. "A scouting mission? It sounds...dangerous!"
Zeus nodded. "It is, but we need more information. I am sure it is nothing you could not handle. I'd do it myself, but one should wait four hours after eating and drinking to perform scouting missions."
Isis looked at him curiously. "I ate too," she said questioningly.
"You have a smaller stomach. Therefore, it's only ten minutes," he explained.
"Oh, that makes sense," she said as she nodded. Zeus smiled softly. Manipulating his sister was his finest art form.
He then began instructing her: "Stay low and hidden. Make no noise. Keep your eyes and ears alert. You'll have to report back to me everything you observe so I hope you have a good memory. Can you do that?"
Isis sat at attention and brought the tip of her tail to her forehead as she lifted her chin, stating, "Yes SIR!"
Zeus nodded, holding back his laughter. "Good. Wait ten minutes and then make your way to the garage."
If Isis did even a somewhat decent job, he would have a better idea of what he was up against. Granted, he could have gone into the garage himself, but what creature, big or small, would suspect anything malicious or deviant from his deranged sister? No one ever took crazies seriously.
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
As Isis walked by the sofa to stretch out on her back underneath the mosaic coffee table, he said to her, "I believe you should go on a scouting mission, Isis."
Isis' eyes grew wide, and her ears perked as she turned her attention to Zeus. "A scouting mission? It sounds...dangerous!"
Zeus nodded. "It is, but we need more information. I am sure it is nothing you could not handle. I'd do it myself, but one should wait four hours after eating and drinking to perform scouting missions."
Isis looked at him curiously. "I ate too," she said questioningly.
"You have a smaller stomach. Therefore, it's only ten minutes," he explained.
"Oh, that makes sense," she said as she nodded. Zeus smiled softly. Manipulating his sister was his finest art form.
He then began instructing her: "Stay low and hidden. Make no noise. Keep your eyes and ears alert. You'll have to report back to me everything you observe so I hope you have a good memory. Can you do that?"
Isis sat at attention and brought the tip of her tail to her forehead as she lifted her chin, stating, "Yes SIR!"
Zeus nodded, holding back his laughter. "Good. Wait ten minutes and then make your way to the garage."
If Isis did even a somewhat decent job, he would have a better idea of what he was up against. Granted, he could have gone into the garage himself, but what creature, big or small, would suspect anything malicious or deviant from his deranged sister? No one ever took crazies seriously.
Friday, August 03, 2007
Adjustment
Change is inevitable.
Change is unavoidable.
Change is irrevocable.
Change is undeniable.
The House now empty,
Save for three.
Open space to run,
To be carefree.
Change is forceful.
Change is powerful.
Change is hopeful.
Change is truthful.
Noises never heard,
now quite apparent.
Darkness descends,
the feeling abhorrent.
Change is instructional.
Change is causal.
Change is informational.
Change is final.
Uncomfortable newness,
the unfamiliar familiar.
Rooms once known
now bend and falter.
Change is revealing.
Change is compelling.
Change is inducing.
Change is telling.
Each day will be brighter,
the rain will pass.
Portend events:
all smiles, lass.
Change is unavoidable.
Change is irrevocable.
Change is undeniable.
The House now empty,
Save for three.
Open space to run,
To be carefree.
Change is forceful.
Change is powerful.
Change is hopeful.
Change is truthful.
Noises never heard,
now quite apparent.
Darkness descends,
the feeling abhorrent.
Change is instructional.
Change is causal.
Change is informational.
Change is final.
Uncomfortable newness,
the unfamiliar familiar.
Rooms once known
now bend and falter.
Change is revealing.
Change is compelling.
Change is inducing.
Change is telling.
Each day will be brighter,
the rain will pass.
Portend events:
all smiles, lass.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
The seventh Pussycat Doll unleashed
I know you like me. (I know you like me.)I know you do. (I know you do.)
Thats why whenever I come around, that cat's all over you.
And I know you pet me. (I know you pet me.)
It's easy to see (It's easy to see.)
And in the back of your mind
I know you should be home with me.
[Chorus]
Dont cha wish your kitty was hot like me?
Dont cha wish your kitty was a freak like me?
Dont cha, dont cha
Dont cha wish your kitty was raw like me?
Dont cha wish your kitty was fun like me?
Dont cha, dont cha
Fight the feeling (Fight the feeling.)
Leave it alone. (Leave it alone.)
Cause if it ain't love
It just aint enough to bring me to a happy home
Let's keep it friendly. (Let's keep it friendly.)
You have to play fair .(you have to play fair.)
See, I dont care,
But I know your other cat won't wanna share.
[Chorus]
Dont cha wish your kitty was hot like me?
Dont cha wish your kitty was a freak like me?
Dont cha, dont cha , baby
Dont cha wish your kitty was raw like me?
Dont cha wish your kitty was fun like me?
Dont cha, dont cha
I know I'm on your mind
I know we'll have a good time
I'm your friend
I'm furry
And I'm fine
I aint lying
Look at me,
you aint blind
See, I know she loves you. (I know she loves you.)
I understand. (I understand.)
I'd probably be just as crazy about you
If you were my human.
Maybe next lifetime (maybe next lifetime)
Possibly (possibly)
Until then, Oh friend your secret is safe with me.
[Chorus]
Dont cha wish your kitty was hot like me?
Dont cha wish your kitty was a freak like me?
Dont cha, dont cha
Dont cha wish your kitty was raw like me?
Dont cha wish your kitty was fun like me?
Dont cha, dont cha
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Kruise kontrol
Dear felines and human pets,Heed this warning:
Don't f*** with the homo sapien known as Tim Kruise.
(I'd write his real name, but I am fearful of the repercussions!).
(And if you don't know what to fill in for the *'s up above, simply use the word 'mess'!)
This cat has Hollywood, and everyone around him for that matter, under his mighty thumb. The latest scandal involved two men attempting to extort one million dollars from Kruise for his wedding photos. Apparently, Kruise has connections to the FBI since reports say he contacted them to discover who was behind this conspiracy.
Connections to the FBI?
Am I the only feline who finds that almost absurd?
I wonder how the conversation went...
Kruise: "Yes, I need to speak to one of your agents immediately!"
FBI Operator: "Hello, and thank you for calling the Federal Bureau of Investigations. Due to high call volume, your call will be answered in the order in which it was received. Please stay on the line, and a customer service representative will be with you shortly. Thank you."
Kruise: "Screw that! I'm Tim Kruise! I get what I want when I want it!"
FBI Operator: "...Unless your name is Tim Kruise, in which case, please enter the secret Kruise code to overwrite this message."
Kruise: "Let's see...that would be M-I-4...so 6-4-4..."
FBI Operator: "Thank you, Mr. Kruise. We are now directing you to Thom Mrozek's office."
I wish I had a private line to the FBI for when litter hit the fan. It must be nice to not have to wait for justice: Having to navigate the long trails of paperwork, jumping across red tape and through hoops just to have someone pay attention to your pleas. It must also be hugely comforting to the American public that while murderers, rapists, and child molesters run free, the FBI is hard at work on this case.
I know that makes me feel better sleeping at night!
Monday, July 30, 2007
A great big purr to the following...
The following people deserve a round of thanks for helping make my first Blogathon a tremendous success:Andrew Odlum: Thanks for being a terrific monitor and keeping me inspired when times were tough!
The Meezers: Thank you for being so supportive and encouraging! Every comment you left kept me going!
Beau, The Cat Realm, Simba, and others: Thank you for leaving so many questions! I don't know that I could have come up with ideas to post had it not been for you!
Pablo and Sparky Duck: Thank you for coming by in the early hours and cheering me on!
KC, Hot(M)BC, and Morgen: Thank you for spreading the word and bringing people and kitties to the blog!
Craaky: Thank you for continually texting my human pet so she could keep me awake! Let's not forget the great Waterboy clips either!
And finally...
Thank you to all of my sponsors!
Your giving nature helped make this event what it was, and I could not be happier to have had your support. I could not have done this without you, and so for opening your pockets and giving from the heart, I thank you!
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Zeus has left the computer...
Our grand total raised for Blogathon '07:
My first Blogathon has come and gone, and I can honestly say that I have never been so proud of both myself and my readers / sponsors. I learned a lot from this experience, and I hope that next year, I can do even better. So many fantastic bloggers out there with terrific ideas...have no fear! I took notes!
I have so many people that I would love to thank, but right now, you'll have to excuse me because I am too tired to remember everyone. It would kill me to skip over someone inadvertently. Expect many heartfelt thanks when I wake up!
And seeing as though I had promised my pet her hoodie from Blogathon headquarters, I have placed my order. The pet deserves it for allowing me the use of her computer for 24 hours. I know that was hard for her.
So in short, I believe the following sums up Blogathon '07 for me:
10 cans of Diet Coke..........$5.00
McDonald's for the pet..........$6.79
Purina One for me..........$13.00
48 posts..........Free
Having the chance to make a difference..........priceless
Flea Games, Chapter 10: Assembling the troops
Previous Chapter(s):
Harbali walked up to the crowd which still vibrated of excitement and anticipation. Unsure of what to say, he uttered, "Can I have everyone's attention please?" The crowd continued talking and milling about, not even noticing his request. Taking a deep breath, Harbali boomed, "CAN I HAVE EVERYONE'S ATTENTION PLEASE?"
Had there been a record player, the needle would have slipped off of the edge as the sound came to a screeching halt. All feelers were directed towards him as the fleas gave him their undivided attention.
"Thank you," said Harbali sheepishly. "Tomorrow, as you well know, is our assault on the ginger and silver infidels. Ramzi would like to know how many of you are in for the fight."
Feelers skittishly raised as the fleas whispered and muttered amongst themselves. An uneasiness seemed to sweep through the crowd. After some moments, a voice in the back was heard over the ruckus: "Why do you need our help?"
"Well," responded Harbali, "it's not an assault if it's only two fleas."
Another voice then shouted, "If it's not an assault, then what is it?"
"I believe it's diplomatic relations at that point," answered a flea from the front.
"There is nothing diplomatic about this," cried Harbali. "We're talking about war!"
From the back again: "We're going to war?"
"Oh for the love of Flallah," sighed Harbali. "Yes," he raised his voice, "we're going to war with the infidels!"
"No one said anything about war," came the shout from somewhere in the middle of the gathering.
Harbali's voice brimmed with agitation: "What did you think Ramzi meant when he said 'jihad'?"
His question was met with more mutterings and whisperings. Harbali hadn't thought it was going to be this difficult to get his brothers to form the troops. Throwing his legs into the air, he screamed: "LOOK! You're all coming! That's it! I can't believe this!"
A collective gasp hit Harbali followed by silence from crowd. A few moments later, someone said, "Well, why didn't you just say so?"
Harbali sighed again. No one had told him leading was so difficult.
Expect more of the story to come in the days ahead!
Time is almost up to get your donations in for The HSUS! Click here to sponsor my efforts!
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
Harbali walked up to the crowd which still vibrated of excitement and anticipation. Unsure of what to say, he uttered, "Can I have everyone's attention please?" The crowd continued talking and milling about, not even noticing his request. Taking a deep breath, Harbali boomed, "CAN I HAVE EVERYONE'S ATTENTION PLEASE?"
Had there been a record player, the needle would have slipped off of the edge as the sound came to a screeching halt. All feelers were directed towards him as the fleas gave him their undivided attention.
"Thank you," said Harbali sheepishly. "Tomorrow, as you well know, is our assault on the ginger and silver infidels. Ramzi would like to know how many of you are in for the fight."
Feelers skittishly raised as the fleas whispered and muttered amongst themselves. An uneasiness seemed to sweep through the crowd. After some moments, a voice in the back was heard over the ruckus: "Why do you need our help?"
"Well," responded Harbali, "it's not an assault if it's only two fleas."
Another voice then shouted, "If it's not an assault, then what is it?"
"I believe it's diplomatic relations at that point," answered a flea from the front.
"There is nothing diplomatic about this," cried Harbali. "We're talking about war!"
From the back again: "We're going to war?"
"Oh for the love of Flallah," sighed Harbali. "Yes," he raised his voice, "we're going to war with the infidels!"
"No one said anything about war," came the shout from somewhere in the middle of the gathering.
Harbali's voice brimmed with agitation: "What did you think Ramzi meant when he said 'jihad'?"
His question was met with more mutterings and whisperings. Harbali hadn't thought it was going to be this difficult to get his brothers to form the troops. Throwing his legs into the air, he screamed: "LOOK! You're all coming! That's it! I can't believe this!"
A collective gasp hit Harbali followed by silence from crowd. A few moments later, someone said, "Well, why didn't you just say so?"
Harbali sighed again. No one had told him leading was so difficult.
Expect more of the story to come in the days ahead!
Time is almost up to get your donations in for The HSUS! Click here to sponsor my efforts!
Flea Games, Chapter 9: Expectations
Previous Chapter(s):
As the final cheers died down in the crowd, Ramzi pulled Harbali aside and asked, "Is everything ready for tomorrow?"
Harbali, if he had an eyebrow, would have raised it right then in a questioning manner.
"I'm not sure what you mean, my friend," he said. If there was something that he had been responsible for, he had been unaware. Quickly, Harbali considered the past few days and his conversations with Ramzi and tried to remember some tidbit of significance that he might have forgotten.
Ramzi's face scoured as he said, "Bah! I can't believe you! We have to gather the troops! We have to lay out our maps of this accursed house! We have to devise a plan for entry! We have to prepare our weapons! I can't believe you hadn't done any of this!"
In a small voice, Harbali replied, "Well, I would have if you had but told me to do so, my friend."
"Oh bah!" Ramzi let out an exasperated sigh. "What kind of soldier are you? Must I tell you everything!"
Harbali hung his head. Ramzi's disapproval was more than he could bear. "I will get the troops together, my friend. I will do so right now."
"Good," affirmed Ramzi. "See that you do, and let me know how many strong we are when you are finished."
Harbali sulked deeply as Ramzi took off for his private quarters. With his shoulders low and his feelers limp, he turned and walked off towards the remaining crowd of fleas.
As the final cheers died down in the crowd, Ramzi pulled Harbali aside and asked, "Is everything ready for tomorrow?"
Harbali, if he had an eyebrow, would have raised it right then in a questioning manner.
"I'm not sure what you mean, my friend," he said. If there was something that he had been responsible for, he had been unaware. Quickly, Harbali considered the past few days and his conversations with Ramzi and tried to remember some tidbit of significance that he might have forgotten.
Ramzi's face scoured as he said, "Bah! I can't believe you! We have to gather the troops! We have to lay out our maps of this accursed house! We have to devise a plan for entry! We have to prepare our weapons! I can't believe you hadn't done any of this!"
In a small voice, Harbali replied, "Well, I would have if you had but told me to do so, my friend."
"Oh bah!" Ramzi let out an exasperated sigh. "What kind of soldier are you? Must I tell you everything!"
Harbali hung his head. Ramzi's disapproval was more than he could bear. "I will get the troops together, my friend. I will do so right now."
"Good," affirmed Ramzi. "See that you do, and let me know how many strong we are when you are finished."
Harbali sulked deeply as Ramzi took off for his private quarters. With his shoulders low and his feelers limp, he turned and walked off towards the remaining crowd of fleas.
A third fundraiser update!
If you're just waking up, then you need to read this update! I am finally able to see the light at the end of the Blogathon tunnel! With less than two hours to go, we have raised:
A huge PURR to all of our sponsors! We could not have done this without you!
For those who are considering to sponsor: All of your donations are helping the terrific folks at The Humane Society of the United States! It's not too late to make a contribution to this organization! There is no minimum or maximum amount, and Blogathon accepts all types of currencies.
Click here to get those final green papers in to be counted!
A huge PURR to all of our sponsors! We could not have done this without you!
For those who are considering to sponsor: All of your donations are helping the terrific folks at The Humane Society of the United States! It's not too late to make a contribution to this organization! There is no minimum or maximum amount, and Blogathon accepts all types of currencies.
Click here to get those final green papers in to be counted!
Flea Games, Chapter 8: Meeting at the food bowl
Previous Chapter(s):
The human pet bent down to rub Zeus' and Isis' heads. "I missed you two," she said with a smile. She walked into the kitchen, placing her purse on the counter, and looked at the empty plastic blue food bowl at her feet. "I guess this is why you two ran out so quickly," she chuckled. "You're out of food."
As the human pet opened the door to the pantry to grab the Purina One bag, Zeus sat by the food bowl patiently. Isis slinked up beside him and asked, "So you didn't find anything in the garage?"
With her question, Zeus remembered the itsy sneeze, and his mind began to ponder the possibilities. He let out a sigh, observing the human pet measure out his food, and hung his head.
"What is it?" asked Isis.
"It just sounded like...,"
"Sounded like what?" Isis inched closer to Zeus and peered into his eyes.
"A sneeze," replied Zeus.
Isis raised an eyebrow: "A sneeze?"
"A sneeze."
"Very curious if it were a sneeze, but then I wouldn't be surprised considering dust mites could be allergic to dust and what a horrible life that would be if they were," stated Isis as if such foolhardiness were actually fact.
Typically, Zeus would have ignored his sister's inane ramblings, but as she mentioned dust mites, he began to devise a new theory. Saying more to himself than to Isis, Zeus mused, "What if we have new visitors in the garage?"
"That's just silliness," said Isis with a shrug of her shoulders. "Don't critters normally call in advance to let you know they are coming?"
Zeus sighed again. "Shut up, Isis." The human pet had poured the food, and once again, Zeus' thoughts were diverted to his stomach where hunger raged a war of its own.
The human pet bent down to rub Zeus' and Isis' heads. "I missed you two," she said with a smile. She walked into the kitchen, placing her purse on the counter, and looked at the empty plastic blue food bowl at her feet. "I guess this is why you two ran out so quickly," she chuckled. "You're out of food."
As the human pet opened the door to the pantry to grab the Purina One bag, Zeus sat by the food bowl patiently. Isis slinked up beside him and asked, "So you didn't find anything in the garage?"
With her question, Zeus remembered the itsy sneeze, and his mind began to ponder the possibilities. He let out a sigh, observing the human pet measure out his food, and hung his head.
"What is it?" asked Isis.
"It just sounded like...,"
"Sounded like what?" Isis inched closer to Zeus and peered into his eyes.
"A sneeze," replied Zeus.
Isis raised an eyebrow: "A sneeze?"
"A sneeze."
"Very curious if it were a sneeze, but then I wouldn't be surprised considering dust mites could be allergic to dust and what a horrible life that would be if they were," stated Isis as if such foolhardiness were actually fact.
Typically, Zeus would have ignored his sister's inane ramblings, but as she mentioned dust mites, he began to devise a new theory. Saying more to himself than to Isis, Zeus mused, "What if we have new visitors in the garage?"
"That's just silliness," said Isis with a shrug of her shoulders. "Don't critters normally call in advance to let you know they are coming?"
Zeus sighed again. "Shut up, Isis." The human pet had poured the food, and once again, Zeus' thoughts were diverted to his stomach where hunger raged a war of its own.
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