Last week I received an e-mail from a certain Barrister Grey, notifying me that I “have been selected for a conformable Bank Draft of £1.850,000.00 Great British Pounds.”
Some might think that this is spam. But we know it’s just that mellow goofball of the Community Room, Mr. Grey, having a bit of fun with his human beans. It appears he may have been aided and abetted by his assistants, Miss Peachypenny and Pitzel Potts.
It can be a lot of pressure having a band named after you.
If anything were to happen to Bruce Springsteen, for instance, his crew would become simply “and the E Street Band.” Bob Marley’s passing left his band as simply “and the Wailers.”
And if anything should happen to Dave Matthews, his band would be bereft of a name entirely. Fortunately, it’s looking like Dave won’t be going anywhere soon - other than perhaps a forever home.
We presently have a litter of kittens named after members of the Dave Matthews Band, who would surely appreciate this post’s title - but it isn’t about them.
No, it’s about the way a terrified cat’s under-the-couch-time can be time well spent.
I’m afraid I spoke too soon when I said that Puzzle’s picture was completed last month.
There was, in fact, one last piece - a bright-eyed, silky-sable, sweet as syrup piece named Tori.
When I was kid all the boys wanted a ray gun. What could be cooler than toting a nifty-looking weapon that one could use to fry anything that got in your way?
What’s this got to do with cats? Continue reading » » »
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When you’re a teenage guy, it doesn’t exactly raise your “cool factor” to call your sister your BFF. But that doesn’t stop 