Behold! HELMETCAT!

Okay, so do some of you recall a story I've told about a cat that I used to have who was kind of brain-dead because my Dad found him in our backyard frozen in a snow bank as a stray and took him in and he didn't die but he DID lose half his ears and half his tail and was just really not very clever (but I guess maybe he could have been a stupid cat *before* he was frozen, we didn't know him then) so we used to have to send him out at night with a little football helmet because he was a scrapper and would pick fights with other neighborhood cats but was too much of a dunce to fight back so he'd end up getting his face all gashed up because he'd just sit there?  Remember that story?  If not, I'm sure you do now.

Anyhow, here's photojournalistic proof of HELMETCAT, at long last unearthed from my Dad's cornucopia of slides in the basement.

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Robynn's Rant of the Day: Vancouver Drivers

Seriously, people.  I'm sick of living in a city where all of the drivers appear to have unearthed their drivers' licenses from the sticky pink shrapnel at the bottom of a discarded Cracker Jack™ box.

I almost got hit by a car this morning.  And by "almost got hit by a car" I mean "my pants got hit by a car, but fortunately my leg did not."  Why?  Because some jackass in a BMW didn't want to wait for the bus in front of him and cut around him to turn right.  Turn right into my leg, more like it.  Sadly, I was so shaken up that I didn't even flip him off.  That's so unlike me.

Strangely enough, the only thought that went through my head as my 33-year-long life flashed before my eyes was, "I should have bought the Gucci bag."  I would have linked to it directly, but it's not even bloody available any more.  This just makes the situation so much worse because now I can't even do the one trivial thing that is evidently and shallowly the missing link in making my life complete.  I'm not sure what that says about me.  "Screw you, starving kids in Africa!  To hell with you, Nepal!  Mama needs a brand new bag."  I suck.  And I digress.

Smarten the hell up, Vancouver!

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A Late-Night Haiku by Robynn

Half eaten poutine

in the street; that’s okay, the

seagulls will eat it

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