Check it: How To Feel Like a Complete Jerk:

1. Do not let your hungry stripy cat out of the computer room (which is where she sleeps because otherwise she's up half the night trying to invent new ways to annoy the freaking shit out of us)
2. Do not feed your stripy cat breakfast.
3. Instead, pop the starved and confused fur-face into a cardboard box (Cosmic Cat!)
4. Put your indignant boxed cat into the passenger seat of your car (please to be using lap belt)
5. Take your boxed cat to the vet and listen to her plaintive yowls get less plaintive and more panic-striken.
6. Pet her stripy nose and leave her there to be anesthesized and de-plaqued. Poor oral hygiene is nobody's friend, but damn did my cat look sad. I felt like a monster.

Just to further the cat insanity, check out my girls on Catster.com. It's a sickness.

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Quick update on the weekend: 5th place, y'all. I got 5th place in the race on Sunday which was damn good for me. I wasn't expecting top five, but I'll take it. It was a hard race though, made even harder because they ran the course the opposite way. We were so tired afterwards that we couldn't do much more than moan and drink beer and eat pizza. Hell, even my abs hurt! Everything hurt. Kenny said he felt like he'd been beaten with a bag full of ball bearings. That's my boy. Here's a picture of my badassery.

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Now, because of this article (use my ID if you aren't registered: amblus @ gmail.com, pw: diaryland) about how Jake Ryan ruined it for everyone, I have been busily debating with friends the merits/demerits of various John Hughes leading men. Here's my take:

Jake Ryan. He is the ideal, for sure, but he doesn't even know I exist. This is why I love him so - because he personifies the crushiest crush you ever had and, in the movie, the crushing dream comes true. Now, this never, ever, really happens, but oh, if it did. Hell, I'm sure that Jake ended up cheating on Sam during his first semester of college, but that's beside the point. He got her panties back and didn't make a big deal about it. He's got a red porsche and that shy little smile and that hair. So beyond dreamy.

Blaine. Now Blaine, as my friend Deirdre so succintly put it, was such a pussy. Please, do not even start with me about his cuteness unless your idea of cuteness equals runny puppy-dog eyes and a slouchy pink blazer. Sure, he went to prom alone, but who's fault is that? It's the whiny, spineless, crybaby-man's fault. If you let your friends dictate who you can date, you don't deserve a date with Andie, even though (let's admit) her dress was fugly as hell.

Duckie. I had a gigantic crush on Duckie when I was 13 but I think it's because he was more the type of guy I had a chance of bagging and I knew it. Geeks take to geeks. What can I say? Even though the reality was that Duckie was essentially un-datable, I still love his rendition of "Try a Little Tenderness". He just tried so hard and I loved that in a boy.

Bender. He was not for me at the time. I liked them less dirty, but I totally understood the bad boy, flaired nostril appeal. See, the trouble with a guy like Bender is that he's deeply messed up, and there is probably a mattress on the floor with no sheets to speak of waiting for your making-out pleasure. The novelty wears off fast. Also, do you want to have him consider you his girlfriend or just consider you? Really, you know what I'm talking about here.

Ferris. Now, we all loved Ferris and he loved us all back, but what kind of guy did he turn into? I think he was a little too charming and perhaps that quality, while adorable in youth, probably didn't translate so well into adulthood. Or maybe he did marry Sloane and is still friends with Cameron and everyone is still letting him have his ridiculous way.

Keith. Ah, Keith. Sweet and arty and misunderstood. My kind of man. Did we all not want him to plunk us on an oil drum and kiss us while the camera spun a full 360? God and hell yes. Giving hope to tomboys the world around.

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5 chatty monkeys