Wednesday, Sept. 10, 2003
Dear Diary:

For those of you keeping track, this would be Proof #4,321 that yes, yes I am every bit as stupid as I look.

As I was leaving for the gym this morning all three of our cats raced out the front door into the warm embrace of nature, barely bothering to give me a glance. We live in the middle of the woods, a place which is literally crawling with creatures of the rodential persuasion that a cat could hunt. We are talking kitty paradise here.

A few hours later I returned, tired and sweaty. The minute my foot hit the front step our new calico cat, Enid, rocketed out of nowhere up on to the porch. She trilled what I took to be a warm welcome, wove in and out of my legs, purred very, very loudly.

I ... I ... I felt LOVED. It was a terrific welcome home. I bent down and scritched the cat behind the ears, babbling to her in a mix of baby talk and gibberish. She purred even louder. I basked in the love.

I ... I ... I thought we were having A Special Moment.

I got the front door open and an orange, white and black streak of fur blew past me and went to the kitty litter box with the speed of light. She proceeded to answer a call of nature in it. Yes, the cat who had at her disposal our full 25 hectares of land PLUS the hundreds and hundreds of acres of woods around us, HELD IN A FREAKING BOWEL MOVEMENT FOR SEVERAL HOURS UNTIL I GOT HOME SO SHE COULD DEPOSIT ITS STINKY GOODNESS IN THE KITTY LITTER BOX.

The cat was not happy to see me. No, the cat was overjoyed that she would have access to the kitty litter. I was simply She Who Opens The Way To The Kitty Litter. I was the victim of a feline fecal falsehood. I ... I ... I feel so used.

Business done, Enid ignored me utterly, went upstairs to my bed and began working on that badly needed 22 1/2 hours of sleep.

Cats could make a person bitter.

--Marn

There's no new inductee into the Bazonga Boosters Hall o' Fame, today no one decided to spend some of their hard-earned buckazoids supporting me as I run the Jog for the Jugs Oct. 5 in Montreal.

No one new can proudly sport the shoddily Photoshopped yet justly coveted red rectangle below. *Siiiiiggggghhhh*

Boob oop de doop eh

P.P.S.- That iron woman, Karen is doing an unbelievable 60 MILE WALK FOR BREAST CANCER! If you don't want to sponsor me, perhaps you'd want to sponsor her. Yowza, that makes that 5K Jog for the Jugs seem embarrassingly short.

Mileage on the Marnometer: 415.8 miles (675.2 kilometers)
Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Half way smoochTen percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.
Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers

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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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