April 24, 2010
Training a cat to NOT open doors looks to be harder than one might think.
Wow, what a coincidence. A lame cat-related SLYT posted here just 15 minutes after the video was uploaded by a YT user created today who has no other videos.
Ladybug2010, did you know that the posting guidelines say NOT to put links to your own content in a front page post, and if you use one in a comment you should acknowledge it.
It does sound very suspect. Is ladybug2010 the same user who has previously posted links that have looked dodgy?
Righto. This post is eeked, and the poster's account is disabled temporarily. ladybug2010, your account can be reopened in the future if you email me. However we expect to see a change in the quality and variety of links you post (ie. no more links that look suspiciously like links to your own or your friends' content).
Eeeeked pooooost! Wheeeee!
Today I went out for breakfast, seeing as it is a sunny Sunday morning, and had a pain au chocolat and a big big big black coffee. Nom.
A friend gave me some special spice chocolates - real creamy Belgian chocolat but slightly hot and spicy - weird and very different.
We were given a box of eclairs left over from a birthday dinner. I had one for breakfast, so decadent!
Dairy Queen Blizzard is twenty-five years old this month. If you buy one, you can get another for 25 cents, or so the grandkids informed me. Seeing as how all three of them had quarters, I was supposed to haul them down to DQ and pay the rest. (I believe their math was suspect.)
So we all four had a DQ Blizzard. Probably not as good as Belgian chocolat or eclairs, but my Turtles Blizzard wasn't bad at all. (Even if I did have to share it with the little sharks that gormed theirs down in a matter of microseconds.)
And I have a new orange striped kitty named Steve that can open doors by himself!
Riding a Nervous Horse
A dozen false starts;
You're such a fool, I said,
Spooking at shadows when
All day you were calm,
Placidly nosing the bushes
That now you pretend are strange,
Are struck with menace.
But he shuddered, stubborn
In his horsy posture,
Saying that I brought
Devils with me that he
Could hear gathering in all
The places behind him as I
Diverted his coherence
With my chatter and tack.
Indeed I have stolen
Something, a careful attention
I claim for my own yearning
Purpose, while he
Is left alone to guard
Us both from horse eaters
That merely grin at me
But lust for him, for
The beauty of the haunch
My brush has polished, revealing
Treasures of edible light
In the shift of hide and hooves.
--Vicki Hearne
Death of an Irishwoman
Ignorant, in the sense
she ate monotonous food
and thought the world was flat,
and pagan, in the sense
she knew the things that moved
at night were neither dogs nor cats
but púcas and darkfaced men,
she nevertheless had fierce pride.
But sentenced in the end
to eat thin diminishing porridge
in a stone-cold kitchen
she clenched her brittle hands
around a world
she could not understand.
I loved her from the day she died.
She was a summer dance at the crossroads.
She was a card game where a nose was broken.
She was a song that nobody sings.
She was a house ransacked by soldiers.
She was a language seldom spoken.
She was a child’s purse, full of useless things.
--Michael Hartnett
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