Mr. Tibbs

Spitfire has been rechristened "Mr. Tibbs." Hopefully, this isn't too confusing. It is his third name. After being picked up on the streets in Kentucky, he was mistaken for a girl and named "Sassy." He next went to a rescue home where he was discovered to be a boy. His outgoing and fearless nature earned him the name "Spitfire." While "Spitfire" is descriptive, "Mr. Tibbs" is more fun.

The rescue cat lady told me that kitens sleep 22 hours a day. To that I say: "Bull-sh!t." Mr. Tibbs is a ball of energy that needs constant supervision. I think he spends 22 hours AWAKE and GETTING IN TO TROUBLE.

Mimi and Cleo aren't so fond of Mr. Tibbs. In fact, they're terrified of him. They growl, hiss, and run away. Cleo has been practically living outside since we brought him home.

This is becoming difficult to type, as Mr. Tibbs is attacking the mouse cord. Thank goodness that, although 22 hours was a gross overestimation, he does sleep.

Spit-fahr

Tonight, we go to the "cat lady" to pick out a kitten. She recommends Spitfire (right), because he is very playful and afraid of nothing, much like our kitty Cleo. We'd like to find Cleo a playmate because she is so C-R-A-Z-Y! We did not get a kitten earlier because of the time commitment involved with a baby animal. Now that Mike is out of school, he can "babysit."

We are debating whether to keep Spitfire's name. I think it's fun to say "Spit-fahr" in my best Southern accent. For short, we could call him "Spitty." Mike doesn't like the name so much, so if you have a suggestion, leave a comment.

(I didn't take the picture of Spitfire, so I'm not sure if it is indeed an electrical wire he's playing with.)

Anakin, Go Home

Episode III was like Episodes I and II: Exotic creatures, sweeping vistas, technological toys, complex battle scenes, and political intrigue. It advanced the story line and gave a plausible motive to Anakin’s turn to the dark side. However, like the first two episodes, it was full of cheesy dialogue and characters with no charisma. You could argue that Episodes IV, V, and VI also had corny lines, and I’d agree. Where the first three episodes fall short is the character assortment and development.

First of all, I don’t care about the characters. The members of the Jedi council are lofty, know-it-alls. Anakin is a moody teenager. Padme is so reserved she is almost comatose. The bad guys cycle in and out so quickly (with the exception of Palpatine) that they don’t seem all that bad. Jar-jar Binks was at least entertaining, but he doesn’t reappear in Episode III. The only characters I felt any concern for were infants Luke and Leia. An attempt to inject character spark from the later movies with a guest appearance by Chewbacca comes across as incredibly forced. In the end, all I could think was “good side, dark side…who cares? Let’s just get some watchable (and believable) characters on the screen!”

Second, the first three movies lack the sense of camaraderie between the characters that you see in the last three movies. Han and Leia’s fiery romance blows Anakin and Padme’s out of the water. (I still can’t figure out what Padme saw in Anakin.) Anakin and Obi-Wan’s padawan-master relationship is boring. Anakin’s chafing at Obi-Wan’s rules and his constant saving of his master’s ass get old. I much prefer the dynamics between the characters of the later movies. Even without the plot, their interactions are worth watching. I never get tired of Luke’s whining, Leia’s bitching, and Han’s smart-ass comments.

Other gripes about Episode III include anticlimactic battle scenes, non-sequitur droid antics, and gratuitous Wookie shots. The movie seemed to alternate between cramming in scenes to advance the storyline and then coming to a dead halt while R-2 comically defends himself or Padme gazes sorrowfully at the cityscape. The Channel 9 movie reviewer gave Revenge of the Sith eight stars out of ten. I think she overrated it. I’d rather have been at home watching A New Hope.

Read of the Week: Bad News Hughes

I mostly read domestic blogs: blogs about gardening, home renovation, crafting, or raising children. I suppose I read them because I wish I was at home, being domestic, instead of grinding away as a corporate wage slave.

I was linked to Bad News Hughes' site through one of my domestic reads and I am HOOKED. I'm having a hard time explaining why I am snorting with laughter in my cube. Bad News Hughes isn't at all domestic and is rather crude. It's a refreshing break from all that domesiticity and wishing I was somewhere else.

Sickening

I heard it again today: someone complaining that they were nauseous. I had to giggle. You see, I used to use nauseous in this fashion too, until I discovered what it actually means:

Nauseous: Causing nausea; sickening (per dictionary.com)

So, when you complain of being nauseous, you are admitting that you are so repulsive that you sicken those around you - probably not what you meant.

If you’re feeling queasy, the correct term is nauseated. (Nauseated, interestingly, means both to feel and to cause nausea!)

I don’t mean to sound supercilious. I just want to educate the nauseous people of the world. Blech!

Meet the Old Lady

I am happy to announce that I will be participating in another play with Cincinnati Landmark Productions: Oliver! Interestingly, I didn’t audition. Although I would have loved to play Nancy and sing “I’d Do Anything,” I initially chose my all-consuming garden over the play. When the stage manager emailed me to offer me a small part, I was surprised, flattered, and couldn’t say no. Long days, no sleep, and no food aside, I have had so much fun with this group. The fact that two of my favorite people are stage managing (Jen) and directing (Mike F.) made it irresistible.

My plummy part: Mrs. Bedwin. I had no clue who this character is. A Google search reveals that she is a sweet old lady who takes care of Oliver for awhile. In the last play I did, I played a drunk old lady. At twenty-nine, I think I’m being typecast as “old.” (At least I’m not a drunk this time!) With rehearsals, work, gardening, and instructing aerobics, it will take very little acting for me to be old. The “sweet” part, I’m going to have to work on!

I'm a Dirty Girl

I’m a dirty pig. I eat and drink at my desk all day long and the result is a cockroach’s dream. I’m looking at my desk now. I see an empty cup from the Stardust, a full styrofoam cup of iced tea, and an almost empty metal mug of old chai tea. Next to my mug, there is a gladware container with the remnants of my tuna salad lunch smeared on the inside. Crumbs are everywhere: on my desk, on my seat (currently being ground in to my butt), on the floor. In fact, I see a very large chunk of apple on the floor to my right. Oops. I suppose it will stay there until cleaning day – Tuesday.

About once every two weeks, I spill something. Usually, it’s just a glass of water. Once however, it was 20 oz of hot tea. I didn’t spill it on my desk though; I spilled it on my boss’. Twenty ounces of tea is quite a bit of liquid. I managed to completely fill the compartments in her top drawer with tea. It took many sheets of Bounty to clean up that mess.

As horrible as it was to ruin my boss’ papers, my worst spill was at my own desk. It was another, full, 20 oz cup of water. Usually, spilling water on my desk is welcome. The clean-up process leaves the desk free of grime and crumbs. This time, though, there was so much water that it did not stay in a nice desk-top puddle, but flowed over the edge and into my keyboard.

My keyboard is far from pristine. The key tops are grimy. The cracks are full of crumbs. Still, despite the food debris, it functions. However, I soon learned that water and a keyboard do not mix. After spilling the water in my keyboard, I held it upside down to drain it and went back to work. I thought nothing more of the accident until my keys started malfunctioning. Pushing any key on the right end produced unexpected results, like bringing up strange dialogue boxes or suddenly switching to other programs. It was quite bizarre. It also made it difficult to work, so I swapped the wet keyboard out with a dry one. The ruined keyboard is my dirty little secret.

I’ll continue to pig out at my desk, but I’ll be investing in a new water container. (I don’t have any more spare keyboards.) I’m thinking of something with a lid. Food and computer equipment can peacefully coexist, but liquids are deadly.