Cats can be lesbians…

And it’s been Dawn and my procrastination to get Adina’s spaying done (and it’s been paid for already) that this inevitable fact has come to light. Ipso facto, little Adina, aka Shitbrick, has been running around the apartment all week in heat. Her meows more resemble growls and passionate moans. When you pat her, she flat out presents itself. No Shitbrick, Daddy ain’t gonna pleasure you (or masturbate you with a Q-Tip).

Enter Tara. I can never understand why animals like to sniff others butts (or my armpits or feet after work for that matter), but it seems when little shitbrick is in heat, Tara has some maternal instinct or further attraction Shitbrick’s privates. But, though the naked eye would indicate just a sniff, the near orgasmic kitten bliss with near eyeballs rolling up into the back of the head indicate something more dire…

Our cats are lesbians.

This must be a sign. All creatures, great and small, do recognize the pleasure element in getting a piece of the cookie. Tara, being a mother herself (she was rescued at 4 months with a litter of her own, abandoned) knows the pleasure of the touch, and knows just how to turn Shitbrick on. And boy oh boy, she does such a good job.

On a functional perspective, the whole sexual dance has one end… the propagation of a species. Reproduction. And maybe this is a key point in Ben Stein’s documentary supporting intelligent design over evolution. It couldn’t have been by accident that reproduction is fun. It had to be programmed in there. Or at least that would be Ben Stein’s argument, as I’ve come to one conclusion as to why he supports the notion of fiction over science. He finally had that religious, earth shattering orgasm, to which like Shitbrick, was found muttering:

OH GOD! YES!

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six.

I’ve been tagged… again…

Three guesses who…

Anyhow…

Accent: I have none. I really don’t. Somehow I’m on the losing end of this argument. Dawn (and the whole daft lot from the other side of the pond from the female persuation… at least those I know) seem to think I have a ’sexy’ Canadian accent. I hate the sound of my voice. Bah. Still, ironically, the lot at work notice a UK twang. Bizarre. Must be Dawn’s influence to get me to say aluminum aluminium. Luckily I’m not speaking in that Gods awful Yorkshire dialect.

Breakfast or No Breakfast: Coffee. Seven cups to get up, and four more for breakfast. Nothing solid. Reader’s discretion as to whether or not that constitutes breakfast.

Chore I don’t care for: All of them? Cat litter changing is on the top of my list.

Dog or Cat: Well, we have a slut and a demon posing as two felines. Other cats I have had include a dedicated hunter, an instrument of war, and a ball of neurosis. Only had one dog (at three… for one day). Cats definitely, they have way more personality.

Essential Electronics: Macintosh, iPod, mobile phone, Canon Digital Rebel XT, Sony Playstation 2.

Favorite Cologne: AXE Effect Essence (it really DOES work… BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!)

Gold or Silver: Gold is worth more, so Aurum.

Handbag I carry most often: My lunch bag. I’m a guy. I’m not meterosexual. Hence, no fashionable handbag.

Insomnia: Not lately. Work takes enough of the mickey outta me to keep me that wired.

Job Title: Officially… courier. Unofficially… peon/slave/fuel. Soon to be back to Electrician/Film Geek Extrodinaire.

Kids: Two piles of fluff that pass themselves off as cats named Tara and Adina. Nothing human though.

Living Arrangements: Barely. Low cost 1-bedroom apartment with Dawn, living 2 bridges away from work. Blech.

Most Admirable Trait: My intellect. I can think my way through (or out of) virtually anything.

Naughtiest Childhood Behavior: Too many to think of just one. Pompous winner, sore loser, dirty hockey player, violent golfing temper, arrogance, obsessing about superiority, and so on.

Overnight hospital stays: Last one when I had my appendix removed (at age 11). 23 years ago. Even when I had my knee worked on it was same day. I’m hoping to avoid these for a long time.

Phobias: Falling from height, my own mortality, being normal, being average.

Quote: Since you tagged me babe, you frakking asked for this:

“The Cylon War is long over, yet we must not forget the reasons why so many sacrificed so much in the cause of freedom. The cost of wearing the uniform can be high, but…
[very long pause]… sometimes it’s too high. You know, when we fought the Cylons, we did it to save ourselves from extinction. But we never answered the question “Why?” Why are we as a people worth saving? We still commit murder because of greed and spite, jealousy, and we still visit all of our sins upon our children. We refuse to accept the responsibility for anything that we’ve done, like we did with the Cylons. We decided to play God, create life. And when that life turned against us, we comforted ourselves in the knowledge that it really wasn’t our fault, not really. You cannot play God then wash your hands of the things that you’ve created. Sooner or later, the day comes when you can’t hide from the things that you’ve done anymore.”

Commander William Adama

Reason to smile: Dawn, film calls, Leaf losses, Man U. losses.

Siblings: None biologically, though a bro and a sis out there (you know who you are).

Time I wake up: 5:00 AM, right at the crack of stupid. Though I’ve been getting up at 4:00 AM lately, and can’t settle after.

Unusual Talent or Skill: Again too many to mention just one. Complex mental arithmetic. Three dimensional visualization. Ear wiggling. Ability to make my cats come to me when they are called. Deep and comprehensive trivial and factual memory.

Vegetable I Refuse to Eat: Broccoli, brussel sprouts, cauliflower, mushy peas.

Worst Habit: Cracking every bone in my body in front of Dawn.

X-rays: Too many. Last set was my chest to examine the effects of smoking (I was a smoker… three and a half years smoke free now) on my lungs. I wonder which causes more cancer… the smoke or the X-Ray?

Yummy Stuff: Oreo Blizzards, fresh Italian Pasta, an unburnt risotto.

Zoo Animal I Like Most: Kimodo Dragon.

As for tags, well, I just don’t do tags. I tend to tag the wrong people. If you do it, comment back to let me know you have.

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six.

Kitty Love

Or some reasonable facsimile…

That is all.

Can somebody please tell me how to keep a cat still…

They are so bloody awkward to take a simple photgraph of. Luckily, our little missy, who bears delusions of being a dog, stood still long enough for this pic so I could finish out my roll of film:

That is all.