Alright. Yes. I admit it.

I used to sit there, watching Star Trek, wishing Wesley would save the damn universe and get off the screen so I could see more of that hot Picard action. I used to think it would be a great episode if he found out that he was secretly Beverly and Picard's love child. I used to want him to just grow the hell up and maybe get laid or something. I admit it. I found Wesley irritating.

But I have to say, Wil Wheaton puts together a pretty damn funny website. In fact, I highly recommend it.

On a side note, it was a little disturbing to find out he's only 3 years younger than me. I remember him as this little kid, and apparently I was pretty much a kid too at the time. Ahh, Star Trek nostalgia.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

'Let's see. Purse. Building badge. Grab the CD from the car stereo. Half hour early - cool, I can go home a little early today...'

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

'Hmm. I don't remember the car stereo beeping that loud. Or for that long...'

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

'My lights aren't on, are they? No. Definitely off. Hmmm. Weird. Must be the stereo.'

Beep. Beep. Beep. Slam.

'Right, off to the office. And my keys are.... SHIT!'

Suz is right. The curls are all fun and good until you've been dealing with snarls for 32 years. Or frizzies. Or hair that poofs out into an Easy Reader from Electric Company afro if you catch the wind the wrong way.

Today I learned something new. Today I learned that you should never, ever tell a personal trainer, "You know, I wasn't really all that sore in that spot after the last workout." Because she'll make up for it.

The spare cats have returned to John's care. He wasn't willing to let me keep Shadow - even though I offered to let him take Shadow's voicebox as a souvenir. Alas. Given Chet's enthusiasm and good behavior in the presence of another cat, I think I'll probably be checking out the local pound this week. Pictures, of course, will follow.

It's 12:30 AM. I have to get up in seven hours. I'm not sleepy. I'm starving. And I'm bored. Such is the life of a hip, single chick in her early 30's.

I think I'll go stare into the refrigerator and see if anything moves.

I was forced to update my reading and music because my friend Greg was calling me a satan-worshipping lesbian. Not that there is anything wrong with being a satan-worshipping lesbian. I just think that Greg needs to work a little harder to jab at me if he's going to.

The cats have settled into a routine. Chet and Shadow are hanging out, chillin', and trying to make me think they aren't getting along. It would work if I didn't keep catching them sleeping by each other. It's fun to wake them up when they're curled up on my bed though. They both jump up with looks of 'Oh! I didn't realize HE was there! Hiss! Hiss! I hate him! Hiss! You're buying this, right?'

Ashes, meanwhile, comes out of the closet to eat. And then goes back to the closet.

However, Chet's behavior has been better. I'm thinking that after the rental cats leave, I'll start looking for another addition to my household.

And yes, Greg - making an 'old cat lady' joke is also too easy.

Note to those playing along from home - if the cats don't drive me crazy, they're going to keep me laughing for the next week.

Ashes, the calico, is sitting on top of my stove between the burners. She won't move. She's just sitting there. Staring. And hissing whenever Chet looks at the kitchen. Yes, looks at. If Chet merely looks at the kitchen, Ashes hisses from her perch.

Shadow, the black one, has been in my second bedroom pretty much since he arrived. If I open the door, he starts a constant meow. And I do mean constant. I stood with the door open while he went, "Mrowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww". After 10 seconds I figured I'd better let him win before he ran out of air.

Chet, meanwhile, isn't getting any of this. He's in his element. He's trying to be friendly and it just isn't working. "Hey guys! Cool! Welcome to the house! C'mon - I'll show you where the litterbox is! Why are you hissing at me? Chill out!" Poor thing - he keeps looking at me like he just doesn't get who the pyscho cats are...

But what a fool believes he sees
No wise man has the power to reason away
What seems to be
Is always better than nothing

Song lyric heard in the car on the way home, and feels very appropriate today. Or I may just be really sleepy.

I love my cat. Really, I do.

Eight years ago, he came into my life on a whim. I was in a pet store with my ex-roommate while he bought food for his ferret. As I wandered the aisles, I passed a cage of kittens and one reached out his paw and poked me as I walked slowly past. He was tiny and orange and squeaked and I thought, "I'm 24. I can do things like buy a cat if I want to!" So despite the no-pets clause in my lease, I went home with a mewling ball of fur who henceforth became known as Chet. And was promptly busted by the landlord three days later.

So Chet spent the first year of his life living with a friend of mine, and upon his return has been with me for the last seven years. He's crossed the country several times, living in Denver, New Orleans, Houston, St. Louis, and Iowa. He's weathered roommates cats and dogs with astonishing grace. He's been my confidante and protector on numerous occasions. He has, it would seem, been the one constant in my life for the last seven years. And I do adore his little orange face. I do love him madly.

But for the last month and a half, he has been pushing me to the limits of madness.

First, was the barfing. From time to time in the past he's gone into barfing stages. Sometimes hairballs, sometimes a slight cold, sometimes he just wanted a different brand of food. This last time he started and kept going and going and going. Finally, he apparently irritated his throat, threw up some blood, and in a panic I ran with him to the vet. $250 later, I was told that he was absolutely and completely healthy. He was just barfing. So I picked up an expensive perscription for something to soothe his stomach, and trooped back home.

And lately, he's picked up a new gig. Constant - and I do mean constant - meowing neediness. The hour of meowing when I walk in the door at night I can understand. I've been gone all day. He's pissed. I give him some love, and then we spend the rest of the evening playing the "jump on Susan's lap, wave butt in face, get pushed to floor, meow, jump in Susan's lap, rinse, repeat" game. This doesn't bug me that much either.

It's the 5 AM bit that's making me nuts. It starts every night around 4:30 AM or 5. Cat appears next to my head. "MRRRROW!" I wake up slightly. Pull him near me. "MRRROW!" He must be petted immediately and if I stop, he keeps nudging my hand. If that doesn't work, he nips it. "MRRRROW!" And then starts the constant squeaking. Right next to my ear. Like a snooze alarm. "Squeak. Squeak. Mrrrr. Squeak. Squeak." Feeding him doesn't help - it just buys me a 5-minute reprieve so I can just doze off before he hops back up and starts again. "Squeak. Squeak. Squeak." Constant mewing until I finally give up and rise around 7:30.

I swear, it's making me insane. This morning my neighbors were probably awakened at 6 AM by a half-sleeping, half-sobbing yell of "What? Oh god, WHAT? Is Timmy in the fucking well? We don't even have a well! What are you trying to do to me! Please let me SLEEP!" It's become like a horrible Edgar Alan Poe story - "The Tell-Tale Squeak". I'm going to slowly turn into Vincent Price and start tearing down the walls of my house. I feel it coming.

So I'm open to suggestions. I know he's not sick. I know he's not hungry. I'm guessing he's just having separation anxiety over my being at work every day. I don't know if I really want to get another cat, but I'm taking care of John's cats while he's out of town next week as a trial run. Maybe they'll help.

Or maybe they'll all start squeaking.

You know... when the guy from Earthlink Customer Support asked if there was anything they could do to keep me as a subscriber, I was woefully tempted to tell him that I would have been more open to the suggestion if they hadn't kept me on hold for a total of over an hour and a half over the course of the last few days.

Yes, dear Earthlink - I think your little voice recording stating that you're experiencing high call volume is woefully inaccurate. 44 minutes and 37 seconds after I picked up the phone today, I finally got through to someone.

But thankfully, that's all done now and after five years, I am no longer sushiq@earthlink.net. W00t!