Obligatory cat post

Shortly after the creation of this blog, I promised you cats. I'm sorry we got so far behind, but we'll make up for it now. Here are some cats and their real cat problems.

King Mars, seen here in a file photo from 2010, obsessed over the recycling. "You can't put that pizza box in there," he would tell his roommates. "It's got cheese and stuff on it. They'll have to throw it away and you're wasting valuable time and resources. Scrape the cheese off and wash the box with vinegar using a magic sponge." King Mars disappeared three months ago. His roommates say they don't need help searching for him.

Last March, Tessercat was struck by lightning down by the Old Mill fishing hole, and now he thinks he can speak to plants. He's on his way to visit his friend Magron the Benevolent, who is a tulip bulb.

This is Marlvolio. He worries about his wife and kids sometimes. Other times he worries about violence and poverty in Africa. Most of the time, though, he sees shiny objects or bits of string and can't look away.

Linda found out her husband is a hitman working for the Cat Mafia. She's afraid to confront him about it, but she doesn't want him endangering their son Meatball. When she sees him lick himself or shred up the screen door, he's the same old Mr. Socks, and she can't understand how someone so normal could lead such a dangerous life. He makes a nice salary, though, and the longer Linda eats Fancy Feline Souffle with Salmon Filet cat food, the less she thinks about her husband's job.

Story of Ball Sports Team Game

Sarah wrote the above at the Utah Statesman offices. Sarah visits me when I'm helping put the paper together. Our sports editor, Tavin Stucki, left his computer unattended, so we helped fill his pages. The layout is actual Statesman style, how it would appear in the paper (with a couple spacing tweaks).

Call me Rod Blogojevich

By Steve Kent


This blog will be a record of what happens when two people who are pretty bad at soliciting and following advice try to start a family together. In other words, it's a tragic-humor blog.

Sarah says I have to write every other blog post. I checked the blog's stats as I finished work a little after midnight. In the past couple of hours, it looks like at least 14 people have read Sarah's post. That makes this blog the most popular I've ever owned.

You should read Sarah's post, it's really good. If you haven't noticed, all the big colorful words in her article are hyperlinks. Also, some of the things she wrote don't apply to me. Contrary to her assertion, I am mean and hate some people.

I love Sarah, though. Partly as a result of this, she is pregnant. People tell stories about how wives can get cranky when pregnant; not Sarah. She bakes me cookies.

I'm a little scared. I've never been good at grown-up things, like filing taxes or remembering to vote. Part of me thinks I'll be a great father, and the other part has a lot of questions.

Part of me #1: Man, I'm gonna be great at raising a baby.

Part of me #2: Yeah? What are you going to do with a baby?

Part #1: I dunno. Play videogames? Eat sandwiches?

I don't even know what we'll name the baby. Thinking about it gives me weird feelings, sometimes. Right now, we're thinking of Dela, after the Beautiful Girls' cover of a song by that name. I listened to it four times in a row after my co-workers left the office tonight, and I almost cried. For those of you who don't know me, I'm really tough, so I rarely cry.

Even if we don't name her Dela, I think I'm going to sing that song as a lullaby.

Unless the baby turns out to be a boy. In which case — son, I apologize, if you're reading. I have other great names thought up for you.

BOSS US AROUND SEGMENT: If you've got advice for soon-to-be parents, leave it in the post comments. The most hilarious bit of advice wins a bag of Skittles. The most useful advice wins the successful perpetuation of the human race.

ADDED VALUE: Try saying the post title aloud.