Ninja Cat is Ninja-y

This is my cat Hime (it's short for Orihime, like the character from Bleach).



She is weird, I mean even for a cat (because all cats are a little bit bizarre), and so I thought that today I would share my miser....I mean her weird antics with you.

First off, she follows me into the bathroom. Our bathroom door doesn't close all the way if you just swing it shut; it looks like it is closed, but in reality you could push it open. Hime knows this, and for some reason thinks that whenever I have to, um, go, she needs to see what I am doing in there. She does this every single time I go to the bathroom. I can only imagine what her thought process is:

Hmmm, the big furless cat that gives me food is going into a secret room and shutting the door. She must be doing some mystical thing in there. I must find out what it is. She pushes open the door.  Oh, my, well that is not what I thought at all.

Hime is also a food ninja. I don't know why, we feed her enough that she has a little Buddha belly. Regardless she feels that any food left unattended for even a second (and some that is still very much attended) is hers. She doesn't just stand there eating it either. No, she takes it and runs like the hounds of Hell are after her.

Food Hime tries to steal on a regular basis:

Chips (any flavor)

Any meat (yep, anything, not just fish)

Broccoli

Lettuce

Ice Cream

Hot Dogs (they don't count as real meat)

Any sort of bones

Popcorn

A few of the above list I understand. Cats like meat, okay, I get it, but broccoli and potato chips? I mean, what the heck. Either everything I cook tastes frickin' magically delicious, or she is a big ol' freak. Neither of our other cats will eat broccoli, heck I have a hard enough time getting Brad to eat it.

Lastly Hime is a shoulder cat. I don't mean that anything is wrong with her shoulders (look honey, the cat sprouted wings again); I mean she loves riding around perched on people's shoulders. It's like she thinks she is a furry parrot. It would be fine, except she has claws like talons, and knows how to use them.

Also she is the only cat I know that gives hugs. Well, I don't know if they are exactly hugs. I get the feeling that if she had opposable thumbs, I wouldn't be here right now.

That's our Hime; ninja-shoulder-bathroom cat extraordinaire. We lover her, and I'm pretty sure she loves us too. I've got the scratches to prove it.

Totally Terrific Top-hat Tomfoolery!

Everything is better with top-hats and mustaches. As proof I bring you:

Things that are infinitely better with top-hats and mustaches:

(With thanks to DT, Kazallo, Ezekiel, and others (who I don't have permission to use her name yet) for the ideas!!)

_______-*-_______

_______-*-_______

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[caption id="attachment_155" align="aligncenter" width="640" caption="(Gremlins are the Copyright of Warner Bros. Studios)"][/caption]

_______-*-_______

So there you go! No more proof needed, right?

Enjoy your Wednesday everybody!!!

In Defense of Dungeons and Dragons

As the story arc of the game I am GMing wraps up, I am preparing character ideas for Brad's game.  He is going to run an intermission game between each different GM's story arc, and he's gonna run it using Dungeons and Dragons 4th edition.

When D&D 4th came out I heard a lot of dissent about it on the web, and in real life. I've heard people say that it has been dumbed down, is more like a certain MMO (that starts with World, and ends with of Warcraft) than a role-playing game, or simply that in its quest to get new players it has gone too mainstream.

All of those arguments are valid. Some of them may even be true, but that shouldn't stop your enjoyment of the game.

D&D is a great game for the same reason that 'Shoot 'Em Up' was a great movie, or why playing games like Halo and Call of Duty are fun. It speaks to a visceral need within a player, something going back to our caveman days.....

Sometimes you just need to blow some stuff up. I mean sometimes all you need, after a long day, is to throw your +2 throwing axe into some orc's face. Add in the shininess of treasure, and hot darn, you got yourself a game.

D&D gives players a break from plot-heavy games like World of Darkness, or Gurps, or even to some extent BESM. That doesn't mean that D&D is all killing and no plotting, it's just different. It's more black and white than most games, I mean there are definite good guys and definite bad guys. Lolth is never going to pick daisies (unless they are daisies of....DOOM), and Melora is never going to wear a necklace of halfling heads or chain smoke.

There is something wonderful about defeating an ultimate evil (or good, if you're playing evil characters) that just makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, and that is why D&D, no matter what edition, will always have a special place in my heart, and on my gaming table.

And two words:

Gelatinous Cube.

Come on, what other system makes you fight evil Jello?

Cycle of Doom!!

As most of you know, I have severe anxiety...uh...issues stemming from some stuff that happened about 5 years ago, and some more stuff that happened while I was a kid. I would like to take some time today to discuss my anxiety, in a humorous way of course, as a cathartic exercise.

Recently my anxiety has been a little cyclical, and looks something like this:



Let's break it down, shall we:

Things that cause Megan anxiety:

Crowds,

Clowns,

Public speaking,

Non-public speaking,

Spiders,

Any other insect/arachnid (with the exception of rolly-pollies and ladybugs),

Feeling guilty,

Yelling,

Loud noises,

Global Warming,

Global Cooling,

Bills,

Money,

Things not being in straight lines, or being out of order,

So yeah, I am pretty much anxious all the time. Unless I find a way to get fabulously wealthy and surround myself with puppies and kittens (and a cleaning staff for said puppies and kittens), I am going to stay anxious too.

Panic Attacks:

In all seriousness, something causes me to have a panic attack at least once a day (usually more). Panic attacks are awful. I feel like I am dying and there is nothing I can do about it. My chest gets tight, I can't breathe, my heart races. The worst part is most times I am so freaked out I forget to do the breathing exercises I am supposed to do. I have only passed out like once or twice. On a good note, if I do pass out, it returns my breathing to normal.

The Shame:

Aaahh, the shame. I am ashamed by my own ability, or more accurately lack of ability, to control my panic attacks. I am embarrassed that I have to turn down stuff that I used to love, and the fact that I have to plan my whole life around my panicky-ness.

The Guilt:

I feel guilty pretty much all the time. I feel guilty that I am not able to work in a public job, that Brad, and the rest of my friends, have to deal with me, I feel guilty that I am not pulling in any money, I feel like I should be able to handle things (even thought I can't).

So there you go. Now I don't want you all to think that my life is all bad, because it's not. There are just some things that I am working on changing.

Tomorrow, a happy subject. See you then peoples!

It’s that time again!

It's ITWSSG Saturday!!!

So, Lo' and unto you I do present the latest ITWSSG. The peasants may start rejoicing at any time.



See you on Monday folks! Tomorrow is Brad's day off and fabric shopping!!

King Tut's missing mummy member

I came across an article yesterday that said that King Tutankhamen's penis is missing.

Seriously.

I'm not even making this up (by the way, I linked the article because typing any form of 'mummy penis' into a search engine is a bad idea).

Apparently, the missing member was attached after the first unwrapping in 1922, and was thought to be missing in 1968 (but later found in the sand around his body), but apparently now the junk is gone.



Some archeologists claim that the penis was detached because it may have been small, or underdeveloped (due to Antley-Bixler syndrome), and removing it saved the boy king postmortem embarrassment. I think they may just be projecting their own inadequacies. I mean, can you imagine that conversation?

"Hey Jenkins, King Tut's penis is missing."

Jenkins looks down at his own pants "Tiny..."

"Yes, maybe it was small. Maybe that's why it was removed from the mummy."

"Yes......the mummy...That's what I'm talking about."

Other archeologists disagree, but still, the theory is out there.

Poor King Tut, if you follow the Egyptian view of the dead, he is wandering around the afterlife penis-less and confused, and now in the real world every one is talking about how tiny his proverbial Pharaoh's staff could have been.

I wonder how everyone else is missing the big picture. I mean guys have tiny dicks all the time.

What is the bigger issue here you may ask.....Where's the beef? I mean his personal pyramid is missing.  Is someone on the penis patrol (again, do not search that term)? Or is there a mummified penis being sold in some seedy Egyptian bazaar? Or even worse, is it being used like some kind of twisted monkey's paw?

Either way, I hope they find it. Both to assuage the tiny man-bit fears, and to give the poor guy back his junk.

That is all folks; I literally can't type another euphemism for male genitalia without it getting freaky up in here.

Penis, penis, penis, penis, penis.

I lied.

Blahsmo, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Hate the Mag

When I first started dating Brad I started reading Cosmo. I did this for several reasons: A) Because I thought all grown-up women read it, B) I thought it would give good relationship advice (because dating in the real world is different from dating in school) and C) Because I am an idiot.

I read the magazine religiously for about a year, then I stopped. Well less like stopped, and more like came to my senses.

I realized that nothing I had read in any of the magazines had helped in my life. Ever. Nothing. All the articles and fashion tips and relationship advice had been for naught. Well that's not exactly true. They did provide Brad and I a source of hilarity after a while.

I mean, every article, it seems, is about getting a guy, keeping a guy, what you're doing wrong with your guy, how to get rid of a guy. It's a tad bit disturbing. I love Brad, but every bit of my day doesn't revolve around him.

Or the articles that weren't about pleasing a man, were about fixing what was 'wrong' with poor lil' ol' me.

Then one day I looked around, and realized that I didn't need fixing. I mean, yeah, I may be messed up, but I highly doubt '8 awesome ways to wear white' will help my anxiety. Plus looking at all those stupid stick thin, skinny bitches just reinforced that I was way not societies standard.

In the years since, with Brad's help, I am slowly getting over my insecurities. Yeah, I may not be a perky, blond, idiot in a size two mini-skirt, but I am a kick-ass cook, and I have friends that love me.

So I don't read Cosmo anymore, and I think it's for the best. I have plenty of other things I can be doing with my time, like writing to you guys, or kicking butt at Magic, or, ya' know, anything else.

And I asked Brad if men's magazines do the same thing for him. He said no. So maybe it's just a girl thing.

Peace out b*****es!