Amanda‘s (who is updating again, and about damn time!) brought back a memory about the second time Fred and I met in person. For the record, the first time we met in person was over Memorial Day weekend in Pennsylvania. The second time was a couple of weekends later in Virginia. (The third was in Rhode Island (he flew up for the 4th of July weekend), and the fourth was sometime in July when I flew to Alabama. The fifth was when the spud and I moved here. Amazing it’s worked out so well, isn’t it?) Anyway, at this hotel – like at many hotels, I’ve noticed – the headboard, rather than being attached to the bedframe, was actually hanging from the wall. One might assume that it was bolted to the wall, in fact. Later, during…. a discussion, let’s say, I got rather, er, excited about making a certain point. So I reached up and grabbed the bottom of the headboard, which was hanging over my head. Suddenly, the freakin’ thing pulled OFF of the wall and hit Fred in the head. You can imagine I was pretty freaked out thinking that I had a) killed Fred, and b) ripped a headboard off the wall with my superhuman strength, probably leaving behind large, gaping holes in the wall. To my relief, the headboard wasn’t that heavy and left no indentations in Fred’s head, and it turned out that it (the headboard, not Fred’s head) had grooves in the back that rested on bolts, so it was easy to put back together, lucky for me. * * * Fred and I were sitting in front of our computers one day last week – Thursday, maybe? – and suddenly the wind outside picked up. I glanced up out the front window to see that it was a little overcast. Out the back window, though, it looked like a twister could drop out of the sky at any moment: Note Miz Poo’s little head looking out the cat door. Luckily, there was no twister that evening, but it did rain pretty hard. Speaking of the cat door, it’s working out pretty well for us. Spot, who was the most nervous about going out through the door at first seems to now be the one who uses it the most. I don’t know if Fancypants spends all night out there or not, but he hasn’t poo’d on the floor even once since we installed the cat door (and we actually left it open while we were in Florida), so I’m happy about that. The cats are so funny-looking when they go through the cat door, because they have to sniff around the edges for half an hour first, and then carefully push the door open and slowly walk through. They seem to come in faster than they go out, for some reason. * * * So, I was reading People over the weekend, and read a blurb saying that Alanis Morrissette is suing the guy who owns alanis.net because the guy had the audacity to register alanis.net, and according to the letter he received from her lawyers, his actions constitute, among other offenses, a wrongful use and misappropriation of our client’s name in violation of her federal and state common law and statutory rights, including, without limitation, rights of publicity, rights under the Lanham Act and certain rights under the Trademark Cyberpiracy Prevention Act. Of course, the guy’s site only presents his side of the story, but if half of what he says is true, Alanis might think of getting over herself. The guy has owned alanis.net for three years and never used her likeness, name, or even referred to her, from what I can tell. I guess I’d better be watching my ass if the notorious girl who shares my name gets a bug up her butt. I’m still kicking myself for not having bought robyn.com back when it was still available, though if I had, I’d be inundated with visits from fans of that singer chick. I see that r0byn.com (that’s a zero, not a letter o) is still available. But it kind of defeats the purpose if you have to say “That’s a zero, not an o” when you give someone your url, I think. King Tubby, snoozing on the pillows. Putting those pillows on the floor is about the smartest thing I’ve done lately. I only pulled them out of the wardrobe to look for stuff for the last giveaway and left them there, and in the week since, there’s always a cat on the pile of pillows, and usually another one waiting for their turn. Our kitties, spoiled? Nah.]]>