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Yesterday, I was convinced that the Love-of-my-Life brought a Baby Triffid into our dwelling space.

I was most discomfited. Really. Tight chest. Twitches. Pre-occupied.
Sad, really.
I know it is pathetic.

It is even more pathetic because it wasn’t a Baby Triffid.
It was a baby Palm Tree.
In my defense, it didn’t look like a palm tree.
I looked like a cross between a baby palm tree and a spider plant.

The Love-of-my-Life laughed at me only a little bit.
And then she moved the thing into the laundry room.

I do love her so.

Don’t like baby palm trees, though.


Many of you are not fans of the “reality TV” genre.
C & C are, I’m sorry to say, horribly addicted to it– within reason.

Currently, we are watching three of them.
And my favorite– Survivor.

I WAS getting board with this grand-daddy of the reality genre.
The contestants lately have all been actors or actor-wannabes. Many of them play the game with knowledge that can only come from watching the show and then say and do things that only people completely unfamiliar with the game would say or do. (Or complete idiots…)

This season’s show is different.
I’m LOVING this season.
Here’s why:

1. Class Warfare
Good science fiction addresses modern day problems cloaked in the trappings of the future.
Apparently, you can do the same thing with Reality TV. Last season, in an attempt to boost their flagging ratings, the Survivor contestants were chosen and then fashioned into tribes by race. Big hullabaloo. Lots of ink. Not a big deal on the show. But it did raise race as an issue. Interesting. This season, they went with class. One tribe had everything– a regular beach bungalo. The other tribe– a machete. Of course, the tribe with everything did better than the ones with nothing. I guess the tribe with only a machete had trouble “pulling themselves up by their bootstraps.” In addition, at one point the “blessed” tribe was asked to sacrifice one of their tribe or trade camps with the “cursed” tribe. Guess which choice they made. Comfort and material goods apparently outweigh social ties in Reality TV, too. Fascinating.

2. Yau-man
Yau-Man is a 54 year old computer engineer from California. He looks like Mister Miagi’s kind, but near-do-well cousin. And he is now my favorite Survior contestant. (I have two others that are favorites– but Yau-man has surpassed them both.) Here is a sublist of why:
A. Yau-Man can throw a spear, blow a dart, and shoot an arrow.
In one challenge, everyone had to do these three things. All the young bucks walked to the line with sure cockiness. Half of them didn’t even hit the target. Yau-man walked up, took an unorthodox stance, and nailed it. At one point, he grabbed all the arrows and held them up and the host, Jeff, asked, “What are you doing now?” To which Yau said, “Finding the straightest arrow,” with a tone in his voice that seemed to imply “do you think I’m an idiot?” Then he hit the target dead-on. Having practiced both archery and blow-gun, I appreciated his performance.
B. Yau-Man found the hidden immunity idol.
They hide this small statue and give clues to the contestants. If you find the idol, you can make yourself safe for one vote. Yau figured it out first, waited till everyone was gone, then found it. Which is only half of the story…
C. Yau-Man hides a fake idol.
Realizing that others might find the clues and look for the idol, Yau decided to make a fake idol and hide it in the same spot. He took a coconut shell, painted some stuff on it, and buried it. BRILLIANT!!! I would never have thought of that. No other contestant has ever thought of it. Granted, no one has dug the fake idol up– but that doesn’t make it any less clever. I wish someone would dig it up. Can you imagine the face of the person who finds it, then tries to use it? Oh well, it won’t happen now. Still brilliant.

3. Moral Outrage placed properly
Often, the contestants on this silly show say truly silly things. They get upset when people lie to them or betray them or trade sides or vote for them or any of the many other things that are basic parts of this staged game. Nonsense. I get sick of listening to these whiners. But, when a contestant does something truly icky– then I want to see some moral outrage. The current group of contestants has done just that. The current losers-to-be searched through Yau-man’s personal belongings looking for the immunity idol. They found it. (Bad Yau-man, silly thing to do.) They then tried to make hay with it by telling the others in Yau’s alliance. Their thought–“won’t they be upset when they find out that Yau didn’t tell them that he had the idol”. Their real reaction–“They went through your stuff? That is lousy.” No repercussions for keeping a secret. Why? Because secrets are a basic element of this game. About time someone remembered that. Way to go.

I’ve made a bet that Yau will win. Judging on my track record– I’ve just ruined things for Yau, but a guy can hope.

Wow…the funbringers have been absent for a while.
What gives?

Busy. Busy. Busy.

And not nearly so disciplined about this blogging thing as some of our compatriots.

Apologies to our fans.

Now that we have a moment to breath, let the fun begin again.

And these are in no particular order– and without photos. (They may come at some point.)

10. Watches me Shower.
Every time I take a shower, she follows me into the bathroom. Then she either sits on the floor or on the back of the toilet and watches me. Sometimes she meows, but mostly she just watches. When I’m done and I open the curtain, she jumps onto the tub-sill. Sometimes she jumps into the newly wet tub.

9. Thinks the Bathroom is for Snuggling
Don’t understand it… but that is when she wants to rub against my legs and wants her head scratched. I’ll say no more.

8. Goes from Silence to Super Purr Instantly
She purrs so loudly, it can wake you up from a dead sleep. And she purrs any time you touch her or get close to her. Gotta love that.

7. Sleeps on my Side of the Bed
OK, this isn’t that cute. And she doesn’t do it all the time. But most of the time. And, well, that hasn’t happened since I had a dog– and she never stayed there for longer than 15 minutes. I’d forgotten how cool it is.

6. Sits Down Hard
Opal doesn’t sit down quietly or softly. She PLANTS herself. PLOP! (Somewhat the way I sit down. I hope she breaks fewer chairs…)

5. Sleeps Under Your Chin
Her favorite place to lay down and take a snuggle nap is on your chest, under your chin, around your neck. This is not always the most comfortable place for the snugglee, but it sure is cute. (Bonus Cutitude – sometimes before she falls asleep in this position, she puts her little paws out and wraps them around your neck, like a little hug.)

4. Dive and Roll
Her patented ninja move. When playing with a toy, she will dive for it and then do a somersault. Doesn’t matter if she grabbed the toy or not. It is all about style.

3. Cave Cougar
She likes to hide between my legs when she is playing. As if the feather toy was some unsuspecting gazelle wandering by the fierce cougar hiding in the dark hidden mountain recess. Then she pounces out or reaches and tries to drag the victim in. Very ferocious and scary. Or so we tell her.

2. The Picture of Grace–NOT
Our cat, the poor sweet girl, is a klutz. I, being who I am, shall not mock her for this. Rather, she has my sympathy. My solidarity. I wince everytime she leaps for the bed and slams into it, clawing her way up. I cringe when she jumps up on the window ledge and misses, holding on with her little kitty claws. OK– I laugh too. It is hard not to. How often do you see a klutzy cat?

1. Sleep Eating
No, we do not have her on Ambien. And no, she doesn’t actually sleep eat. She does, however, dream of eating. Often. Loudly. Her little kitty lips start smacking and chomping. Her tongue licks her lips. She makes loud eating noises. It is quite funny.
(Another Bonus Cutitude – When she is thinking, she sticks her tongue out. Not a lot. Just the tip. Very, very cute.)

Over the years, we have realized that C is missing some of the typical male genetic material. Among the missing? The Car Gene.

You know the one. It is responsible for the guy-like knowledge of cars.
“Honey, what kind of car do I drive again?”
It is responsible for the desire to attend car shows and read car magazines.
It is the one that imparts wisdom in all things mechanical and a primal joy in grease beneath fingernails.
“There are different kinds of oil? Can’t you just put in what you did last time?”
It is the source of dreams about the “perfect” car.
“What do you mean you won’t ride in my car. Just because it is a 10 year old Crown Victoria with cab yellow showing through the smurf blue paint? This car is a wonderful boat of a car–and it only cost me $50. People want this car. I can tell. Every time I drive it, they stare at em at the stop lights.”

That gene is, for the most part, missing.

Which is not to say that I escape completely. There are other markers in my double helix that try to pick up the slack and fill in the gaps. My Super Hero gene, for instance.

When I a teenager, the first “true” Batman movie came out. As a promotion, MTV held a contest where the newly designed Batmobile was the prize. I wanted that car. I was, almost, obsessed. I didn’t win. In retrospect, that was a good thing.

The car-lust subsided back to its mostly non-existent level.

Until today.

After reading this article, I’m afraid I have a serious case of car envy once again.

I’ve already got the ring tone to match it…

Of course, I’m older and wiser now. I know I could never afford to buy this car.
But I don’t have to buy that one.
I can make it.