I have this friend.

Everyone say hi to Matthew. (Hi, Matthew!)

He's a grad student at an unnamed large university in the northeast, and he's known me since I was ... crap, let's not get into how long we've known each other.

Suffice it to say, somewhere in our teens, we discovered we were kindred spirits. For quite some time now, he's been sending me one-liner movie reviews on netflix, and my general reaction is usually a snort of laughter. I haven't done anything with the emails, but I haven't deleted them either. He has since agreed to let me repost some of his movie comments here, so I present the first installment in Matthew's Movie Notes...

To the humans reading this missive, We send casually-meowed greetings and salutations. We recognize that the visitors to Our domicile wish to receive only the best of care from Our humans for the duration of their stay, and We are pleased to announce the results of Our ongoing quality-check program.

Prior to all guest arrivals, We thoroughly investigate the sheet situation of all guest beds in order to assure our guests a 100% mouse-free experience. We simply will not tolerate even the merest whisper of a hint that We might inflict any but the best of mouse-free experiences on Our tolera….uhhhh, beloved guests.

(We'd stand behind the guarantee…but that'd mean We'd have to wake up.)

Click on the following photo to see a demonstration of Our quality-control procedures at work:

...but only for a week!

Yes, folks. I am back here on cat.net with more antics than you can shake a baton at. Call me a glutton for punishment, but I just can't get enough of you cat.net readers. I suppose I might have a dual purpose here, though. B)

"Okay. Now it's time to head into the computer room and play the ever-popular game of 'How Many Blinky Lights Are There?' You have a guess?"
— Amy

Wow, takeover and domination of two different sites in less than 24 hours. Was it my birthday and someone forgot to tell me?

But seriously, folks. This is Chris, better known as Duckie to some of you, here to let you know that our beloved domesticat has been having what she likes to call a "rubber-ball modem" for the better part of the past week. In other words, little to no net access, hence the lack of posting here on cat.net and such. To assuage the multitude of rumors I've been hearing, allow me to set the record straight:

1. Dead? Nope.
2. Ran off and joined the circus? Sorry.
3. Become a nun? Ha!

These are my answers to the five questions Amy posited to me.

(1) You have five bullets and a guarantee that you will never be prosecuted. Who gets the bullets, and why? (A single person is allowed multiple bullets, if necessary.)

Hmmm…If you're going to limit me to five, I'm going to have to be pretty judicious; I don't think I'm in danger of having to pump multiple bullets into the same person.
(1) Gallagher. I've always wondered if his head would explode like his melons.

I hate you. You are:

I never thought I'd see the day that I had a post that qualified under both "freeform writing" and "kitchen life." I guess I shouldn't be surprised that it would be Will that would make it happen.

He's adorable, and the next time we get together, he's making me dinner. I'll even buy the wine and clean the kitchen up afterwards.

I present what is, quite possibly, the most conversational recipe known to mankind. I can't even read it without getting a grin. It's probably the next best thing to actually getting to eat it.

With that said, I present Will's discourse on how to prepare salad, garlic mashed potatoes, asparagus, and chicken breasts stuffed with apples and cheese.

Dear Edmund and Tenzing—

I know that you can't read, so I am trusting that you will use your superkitty powers to absorb the contents of this letter through your amazing (and easily-demonstrated) mindlink powers with Amy. Since the two of you always seem to know each other's thoughts, I'm going to assume that now would be no exception and just send this letter to her.

Perhaps this is the week in which I let others speak for me? I'd fully intended to write a full-blown entry today, but my findings a few minutes ago mean that I think I'm going to let someone else's words speak for me again today.

The letter is dated May 10, 2001. I have been looking for it since June, and it reappeared about twenty minutes ago while I was cleaning out under my desk. It is in my grandmother's handwriting, and it details her apple butter recipe:

I use a crock pot to cook the apples in—that way it is not necessary to stand and stir a lot. Then, too, the apples to do not stick to the cookware as bad as when using an open pot.

"Slice apples into the crockpot—fill it full—put about 3 or 4 cups of sugar on top and let it set overnight. Add spices—cinnamon, allspice & a little nutmeg—about 1 tsp. each or whatever suits your taste—cook 3 or 4 hours.*

I've occasionally toyed around with the idea of reprinting pieces that friends send to me. I've done it once before, when Jeff gave me a piece that I wanted to post. This morning, I received another piece that made me laugh so much that I had to share it. I may do more of this in the future; I have not yet decided. They're not necessarily formal pieces; they're bits of writing that catch my fancy and that I think are worth sharing.

Without further introduction, here's a little piece by Will Brooke which didn't have a title, but I've started calling "The Breakfast You'll Have."

Do you ever have these totally unreasonable desires for a breakfast that is about 3 times the size of you the morning after drinking stupidly?