in memory of the world's greatest cat - he lives: October 2008

every time they come, my ranter screams.

I gave up ranting after I realized that I'm ugly when I'm angry and typing at the same time - but several items are causing serious internal combustion and need exorcising before 2009 rolls around. They are

1) Ex roommate - nutty, twisted jerk - a therapist, plagued by various forms of OCD, some well known, and some I believe she's discovering and defining daily. I hope her cat, Boy, drags cat poop in on his sweet, delicious haunches and into her bed...and down under her country floral comforter...then wedges it deeply between her ironed & starched bed sheets. Standby.

2) Some destructive troll from craigslist who singled me out this past summer and then hounded and harrassed me for months on end while I was looking for employment (during a long period of illness no less) by sending numerous, unsolicited, poorly written email containing "advice" on ad writing, several emoticons, and a not so subtle hint of future harrassment to come. A few weeks and replies back later I learned that I was the topic all "her readers" were discussing. Here's the part where I'm confessing that I finally resorted to laying a trap and created a fictitious help wanted ad that I would use to trick her into confessing to being a serial-flagger. Flawless- I done went and outdone myself and managed to get several confessions from the troll. Normal people would be satisfied by this accomplishment and be done with it by now. I believe this toxic asshole is at large and currently operating within 7 degrees of blog-separation- if not, I'll make good and certain I'm read. I'll get you my pretty.

I admit it, this bitch got the best of me. Wanna screw with me? Just taunt me anonymously from behind a computer, reach into my real world and deliberately try to micromanage my destiny. That's a winner. And you know, there's a lot to be said on the subject of being tortured by some freaky wannabe blog-star shooting off harrassment email containing LOL, LMAO and HAHA to a total stranger; that, too, wore me down - as did the bullying and sick power play of flagging my employment wanted ads, which caused actual monetary loss. I've since vindicated myself...but you know, I'm still fucking pissed off. Evil people still shock me.

Here's some good advice for you miserable, destructive cyber cowards: pick your target wisely lest you unwittingly encourage new ideas. Don't pick one anyone smart. Don't pick on anyone creative. Don't pick on anyone in pain. Don't pick on the meek. Don't pick on the strong. Don't pick on anyone who has memorized Poe's Alone. Don't pick on cat people. And don't pick on a prisoner about to be paroled.

Worn down from living in poverty, and disgusted with people in general, I did what any red blooded vengeance seeker would do...I used the same forum and power formerly used against me to make 1000s of dollars a week, and still do.

You're mine now. I got you, my pretty—flag this. How do you like me now!

What was that? Was that an utterance auditioning for coherency? some sort of venomous spittle dribbling from your accursed little tongue, attempting to form itself into a thought? Answer me, "LL". Speak up! Speak up, you disconsolate jealous bitch, I can't hear you—how do you like me now! Get on your knees, now, you horrid little troll, and bark like an epileptic dog, then get up and get down-dance like a puppet (dance! dance! dance! get down and boogie!), weep like a spoiled princess and go flag those ads while I shop online at Bose. Yeeeeeauh - how do you like me now. Uh! Yeah! Uh! Yeah! How.Do.You.Like.Me.Now.

This will be the only time I ever stoop low enough to type out such an obviously pompous claim, or to toot my own horn...People who are neither funny nor creative need to face one immutible fact: I am funny and creative, and they are not.

3) Never one to rule out possibility: Me

posted some time in Oct of 2008

I miss my roommate's cat. I miss my dead cat. I don't miss my living cat - and he doesn't really behave as if he cares one way or the other, so we're even. The only thing that living cat has going for him are his looks. He's a lovely and ornate empty vase, an antique Tiffany lamp with a 25 watt amber blub. Bless his little heart, he's as dim as an amber 25 watt bulb.

What idiot said "If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with"? It's a lie - it's pure BS. Oh, Testify, thine own heart!

I'm in near proximity to one of the most beautiful cats ever placed on this earth - a living, breathing masterpiece of feline design - and here I live and breathe, catless and profoundly lonely.

If I don't get a cat fix soon I don't know what's going to go down.

Sometimes I feel like my beating heart depends on a warm cat.

And while I am here, an update re: the below post, and a reminder to myself that my penchant for withholding pleasure from my own self is alive and well. I can afford a shelter's worth of my favorite drug, but instead I reason with myself that I'm just "not ready" yet. Not ready for what?

What is wrong with me?

Answers accepted in comments section.