Lame-o Update

As much as I like to have a neat beginning, middle, and end to my blogs, I’m no Dave Barry, and I sometimes have to sweep up all the crumbs for you kids, just so no one misses out on even the most mundane details of my life.
So first things first.
Buzz-Wear.com is officially live.
It’s not the prettiest since I only have one t-shirt design ordered and they aren’t supposed to arrive for a couple weeks, but it’s there and all the pretty buttons (should) work. So if you’re champing at the bit for your buzz-wear fix, have at thee.
Second, I hope that I make a tiny bit of money on these shirts so I can support my habit. When people used to ask me why I didn’t do drugs, I would tell them that it was because I liked Big Macs. A lot. And when I like something a lot, I get it every day, and dream about it when I’m not currently partaking in its delicious special sauce and extra pickles, washed down with a refreshing diet coke and spiced up with some salty large fries. And if I’m the kind of person who would act that way over a Big Mac, I should probably not really look into a heroin addiction. I’m still like that with things that I like. I believe I watched the entire first season of “Lost” in one sitting. I currently have 5 video games that are waiting to be finished, but somehow I keep buying more. (KoTOR 2, Prince of Persia, Fable, Chrono Trigger, Kingdom Hearts)
But unfortunately, all of those things will probably be on hold for awhile (except Big Macs. The only time I can’t eat a Big Mac is when I’m already eating a Big Mac) because of my latest addiction.

Yeah. It’s all 7 seasons of “Buffy” and 5 seasons of “Angel.” If I hadn’t cropped it, you would have gotten to see my duplicate “Buffy” series 1, 2, and 3 in the back row, because I bought them before my delightful co-worker decided to downsize her collection. I can’t stop watching. Why didn’t someone tell me how cool this was when it was on? Where was I? The late ’90s were my peak TV-watching years!
The third topic is to answer a question from the comments of the Shelter blog I wrote. This answer is probably not very PC, and even I know it, but taking an animal is such a big commitment, I have to be picky. When my mom got me Purriey as a gift for my 8th birthday, she found a woman who was giving them away and drove to her house. She squatted down in the middle of all the kittens, and most of them ignored her, milling around and mewing randomly. While she was looking in another direction, young Purriey hopped right up on her knee and mewed in her face. So she sort of chose my mom.
When I was looking for a kitten, I really tried to factor in the fact that these little kittens were in a scary metal cage with dogs barking loudly in the next room, and even the most playful guy wouldn’t act himself in that environment. But each kitten I picked up would screech in terror and tuck its tail between his legs and claw to get back in the cage. When I picked up Scamp, I sat him in my lap and he immediately started purring as loud as a motor boat. Then he flipped on his back and started wiggling around like a worm. I was shopping without Justin, and I knew we had to make the decision together…but there was this other chick there, and she was totally ready to get Scamp from under me.
So, yeah, I guess I’ve decided that a cat really has to be unique to catch my heart. Some people go on looks or age or plenty of other stuff, but I feel like I’ve had pretty good luck so far.
I was going to end with my Julia Roberts story, but I’ve rambled so long on this other stuff, that I think that can constitute its own update.
So until next time! Same blog channel! Or something!

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