Caterwauling

The newest addition to the kitty cousins’ network is Macro. Who, I understand, was almost named Lol so he could be called “Lolcat.”

LOL. 😉

Isn’t he kyoot?!?! All tuckered out from meeting all the party guests yesterday. (Forgive the cell-phone-quality shot — I couldn’t pass up this snoozy windowsill shot.)

On heavy rotation at Chez Caterwauling tonight, perhaps the first night I’ve been OK in a long time. …

“It’s closing time
Got no place to go
No, I’m not tired
Nobody’s waiting at home

Hey, what about you?
Looks like you’re leaving alone
Guess that makes two — me and you
By the way, my name’s Jones

Yeah, I know a place
It’s not far from here
That’s my dented red Chevy out front
You can follow me there

There’s no neon lights
And it don’t stink of beer
It’s just a mile up the road
Just a minute from here

These arms are open all night
If you need someone to talk to
A hand to hold onto
And if it feels right
These arms are open all night

Now the band is through
They’re breaking down the drums
They took the singer’s keys
Man, he was really drunk

They’re turning on the lights
We can’t stay here no more
Yeah, I can take a hint
Find my way out the door

So what do you think?
Yeah, are you going my way?
There’s still a whole lot more left to this night
Baby, what do you say?

These arms are open all night
If you need someone to talk to
A hand to hold onto
And if it feels right
These arms are open all night

God only knows
How long it’s been
That I’ve been this lonely

Back there at the stop sign
I see her headlights
I think she’s coming with me

These arms are open all night
If you need someone to talk to
A hand to hold onto
And if it feels right
These arms are open all night”

— Bon Jovi, “These Arms are Open all Night”

OK, so I’ve never in my life watched an eppy of “The Sopranos.” But since we were in a house with HBO last night, the remaining partygoers plopped down to watch the season finale.

As Ian said, “I want the last hour of my life back!”

God, horrible. Just, pointless. I figure, the producers clearly weren’t going for ratings, as everyone and their godfather was watching it and there’s no reason to compel people to tune in next week or next season. But, come ON people. How can you sleep at night after putting out such SHIT?

I expected some sort of resolution, but the resolution is that, here are some loose ends — you figure it out. Like a goddamned choose-your-own-adventure novel. Puh-leeze!

As Ian and I were leaving the par-tay, a guy on his cell phone came upon us, as he was walking his dog. He looked at us and remarked, “Did you just watch that stupid piece-of-shit show?” (Or something like that — believe me, it doesn’t even adequately convey the disgust.) We said we indeed had and BOY, so not worth it.

That’s all I have to say. I was looking so forward to discussing how terrific the episode was and how I totally needed to rent the show on DVD. But you know what? I’m glad I didn’t waste any more time with it than I already did.

Pfft.

Given the week my emotions just (barely) managed to survive, I thought this video was a rather fitting tribute to it.

Tom reminded me last night about SadKermit.com, and here’s the poor puppet singing NIN’s “Hurt. *sniffle* I hear ya, lil’ dude.

So I was having a conversation with my friend John yesterday, about how clueless boys can be. And he’s the one who said I expect too much of them, that they’ll sit on their asses till they’re good and ready to get off of them — if at all.

And while I’m PERFECTLY happy to let people revel in their own inertia or lag in their own time zone or whatever vortex keeps them from snaring a catch like me (*snarf*), I admit I needed some advice to cope in the interim.

Me: So what’s a girl to do?
John: You gotta grab a dude by the nutsack.
Me: With my hands or my mouth?
John: Depends on how fast you want results!