Jackie over at Unfettered Debloggery sent me this video she made for MTV’s What The Flip project.  Not sure I understand why she’s wearing safety goggles, but since when do I understand women at all?

Thoughts?  Critiques?  I’m actually pretty bad at self-promotion, so let me know what you guys think.

This temporary theme is up until I can design something special.  And you may find that the navigation’s a bit screwy for a couple of days.  But we’ll be back on track in a week or so.

No, I’m not crazy; I have cats. But then again, is there a difference?

Those of you who have cats, think on this: when was the last time you looked at them? I mean really looked at them. I did so the other day, and I realized something I had never noticed before when they were scurrying around the house, hiding my Chap Stick and ruining my sideboards:

They’re killing machines.

That’s right. Miniature killing machines that play with yarn.

And bottlecaps. And keys, and fragile trinkets (or rather, the pieces of fragile trinkets they have knocked off the top shelf).

I mean, look at them. Retractable claws. Lithe, agile bodies designed for stalking and pouncing. Sharp teeth in strong jaws. These things could fucking eat me.

I used to watch my kitten (Toby) playing with Stanley the Sock Monkey and think (against all my alpha male instincts), “How cute!” He’d pounce on Stanley, get him in his little paws, and worry at him with his hind legs.

But now that I’ve seen him for the death-machine he is, I’ve finally realized what he was really doing with those hind legs: trying to tear into Stanley’s throat. All that cute bouncing and flipping about was, in reality, a psychotic urge to act out the murder of another creature.

Let me elaborate: Stanley is sitting on the carpet, minding his sock monkey business. Toby stalks Stanley in the low grass (shag), creeping up behind Stan while his little yarn eyes aren’t looking. He wiggles his butt (how cute!), but what he’s really doing is finding good purchase so that he can leap on Stanley before he has time to react (though, being a sock monkey, Stanley has notoriously slow reflexes). He pounces, pins Stanley down with his front paws, and proceeds to go straight for the jugular (he has an uncanny knack for guessing just where the jugular would be on an animal that has, for all intents and purposes, no neck), ripping at the throat flesh.

Then, when Stanley has finally given up his useless struggling (flopping), Toby bitch-slaps him to see if he’s still moving. Stanley slides a short distance, and Toby pounces again, pinning the defenseless sock monkey to the ground, crushing any hope of escape. Then he smacks Stanley like he owes him money again (with enough force to crush his skull, if he had one) and pins him. This goes on for several minutes, until Toby gets bored and finds some other stuffed whatnot to torture.

I’m telling you, Hannibal Lecter had nothing on my cats, and I’ve allowed not one, but two of these creatures to sleep in my house (well, on my head, to be specific). These things are crawling around while I am asleep and unsuspecting. And my only weapon is a water gun.

It’s amazing I’ve lived this long.

(phone rings)

Me: Hello?

HR Guy: Hi. Is this… (sound of papers shuffling)… Pip?

Me: …

HR Guy: Hello?

Me: Is this Chris Hansen?

HR Guy: Er… no.

Me: Oh. Then yes, this is Pip.

HR Guy: Okay, this is Dave, from stricken for confidentiality:

Me: stricken for confidentiality? That’s a weird name.

HR Guy: Okay, well…

Me: I mean, how do you put the strikethrough in when you’re talking like that?

HR Guy: Well, I…

Me: Wait, let me try it. Oh, hey! It works!

HR Guy: Am I speaking to the right person? Are you sure this is Pip?

Me: Hang on, let me check my underwear. (a snap, a cry of pain) Yep. Says so right here.

Annoyed HR Guy: Okay, well…

Me: My mother wrote it there herself.

HR Guy: Charming… I’d like to start by asking you a few questions about your resumé.

Me: Technically, I think the ´ goes over the first e as well: résumé.

HR Guy: …

Me: Go on.

HR Guy: It says here that you’re currently employed as a … (sound of papers shuffling)… 12th… level… paladin? Am I saying this right?

Me: Paladin, yes.

HR Guy: I can’t say I’ve ever heard of that particular job title. What exactly are the duties of a paladin?

Me: Well, basically, I’m in security.

HR Guy: Like… a guard?

Me: More like head of security. I cast all of the protection spells, and provide all of the necessary talismans.

HR Guy: Is this a joke?

Me: No, no, I take it very seriously. Without me, we’d have been overrun by Orcs last Thursday.

HR Guy: This is ridiculous.

Me: Says the guy who doesn’t know what a Paladin is. Geez, how stupid can you be?

Annoyed HR Guy: Okay, this isn’t really a job.

Me: Says you. My LARP clan pays me 450 gold pieces a week.

Still Annoyed HR Guy: I’m guessing that’s not real money.

Me: Define “money.”

Really Annoyed HR Guy: Money. Currency you can exchange for goods.

Me: I bought a new Staff of Ages just this past Tuesday.

Supremely Annoyed HR Guy: Real goods. Stuff that actually exists.

Me: I traded a guy 2000 gold pieces for his vintage Tron poster. Does that count?

Resigned HR Guy: Fine. Whatever.

Me: You’re not very good at this, are you?

Surprised HR Guy: Excuse me?

Me: At convincing me to take the job.

HR Guy: It’s not my job to convince you to take the job.

Me: Well, we’ll just have to agree to disagree.

HR Guy: But…

Me: You recruited me.

HR Guy: What? You sent us your resumé. Seventeen times.

Me: résumé.

HR Guy: …

Me: Anyway, my point is this: You were the one who put your job on my Monster.com page.

HR Guy: Those are… but… oh, forget it.

Me: Okay.

HR Guy: Look, this is just a shot in the dark, but is your mom around?

Me: Sure, let me just untie her.

HR Guy: What?

(muffled sounds)

My mother: Hello? You’ve got to help me. I’m in a basement. I can hear water running…

(more muffled sounds)

Me: She can’t come to the phone right now.

HR Guy: Look, do you or do you not have experience in “online marketing and digital strategy?”

Me: Sure I do. Lots of it. At least 10 years worth.

HR Guy: You do?

Me: Yeah, I buy from Amazon all the time.

HR Guy: Oh, fuck this action. I quit.

Me: …

HR Guy: …

Me: …

HR Guy: …

Me: …

HR Guy: …

Me: So… is your job available, then?

(dial tone)

So.. what do you guys think? Pretty good, right?

Okay, Barbara, where we gonna go next?

Well, I don’t know where we should go, I thought you had some stuff to do.

Yeah, well, let’s stop here for a sec and figure this out. You have to pick up new school clothes at the plus-size store for Sarah, and I gotta pick up a new little league jersey for Ray at the plus-size kid’s sports store. So I’ll go down that way and you go down that way, and we’ll meet back here.

Wow. These people behind us are really pushy. Mall people. Jeez.

No, honey, you can’t go to McDonald’s. Your doctor says 256 lbs is too big for a 9-year old girl, so we’ve got to stick to our treat days, which are Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and the weekend. Go with mommy to get new school clothes and maybe we’ll get a small snack after.

Jeez, buddy. Just go around, okay? We’re trying to figure out where we’re going here.

No, Barb, Sears is on that side of the mall. JC Penny’s is on this side.

Ouch! Hey! An excuse me would be nice, fella!

Yes, Barb, I’m sure it’s on that side of the mall. I got the 8- by 10- foot fold-out directory in my pocket. I’ll open it right here in the middle of all these people.

Oops. Wrong way. Guess I’ll have to turn it around.

Wrong away again. Need to turn it the other way.

Oh! Sorry, sir. No, I don’t think you got a papercut. I’m pretty sure that cut was on your forehead before.

Oh, look at that. Sears is on this side, and JC Penny’s is on that side.

Okay, everybody got that? One hour. Then we’ll meet back here, right where we’re standing.

At the foot of the escalator.