I will pee on you.

Maybe not you, specifically – unless you’re a leather chair or a couch or a newly painted wall, or a dehumidifier, or an oven door, or a roommate’s truck, or the other leather chair, or the 3rd leather chair in the house, or the upstairs, or the basement. If you’re one of those things, I’ve already peed on you to claim you as my own.

If only he paid more attention to me. If only he cleaned out my litter box just one day earlier. If only that really stupid looking no-tailed cat hadn’t moved 2 doors down a month ago…maybe things would be different.

Remember when you were a kid? Your whiny little sister wanted you to share your candy. Maybe you had a bully of an older brother who just wouldn’t leave you alone. Quite possibly, your dad used a biblical justification like “temple tax” to take something off the top before you got what was rightfully yours. Your blood boiled. You felt the tremors in your bones. Your skin became ever so tight around your nervously twitching muscles. Suddenly, a foolproof solution!

**licks candy**

You’re a humanoid, I’m just a cat. I don’t think through the consequences of my actions quite as articulately. My tongue is made of sandpaper, and I use it to clean my butt after I poop. Also, nobody can tell if I’ve licked something, so I must find other ways. Commence operation PEE-ON-EVERYTHING.

Operation POE is going quite well. If only my cat-testes hadn’t been lasered off in a cruel act of domination, they would certainly smell my presence. Still, my mark remains long after I have vacated the area. I HAVE LICKED THE CANDY. The leather chairs, the newly painted wall, the roommate’s truck, and the cat down the street’s bushes. I got it all. It was years before I discovered their weakness, but I will exploit this super power until I am forced to find yet another way.

The world is my oyster. I plan to piss on it. I hear the French love oysters.

-Steve the cat

Testi-clees. The Greek god.

Anyway, I didn’t watch most of the Republican debate. Most of me hates the idea of politics – the infighting & the inability to discern the sincerity of the candidates. Part of me wants to watch, but I think it’s the same part of me that can’t stop watching this video. However, I did tune in at the end just in time to not have enough time to actually give an opinion, but as @TMcClusky pointed out on Twitter: when all four candidates debate about who is the most pro-life that is a really good thing“. I agree.

Wow.

I’ve decided that when this blog’s namesake finally passes, there is a good chance he will be the only male cat I ever own. Steve gets a bad rap from people who don’t understand him, and I usually refrain from complaining about him, but that cat loves to fight. He’s cuddly on weekends though.

For that matter, I’m cuddly on weekends. Taking applications in the comment section.

Everyone’s taking a stance on this SOPA thing. I think it’s good because it keeps people clean and stops them from smelling bad. When people don’t smell bad in my office, my coworker has no good reason to fire up her candle warmer with such morally offensive scents as “Watermelon Dreamworld” and “Tropical Mango Berry”. Why are people not against THOSE injustices?

ANNOUNCEMENT: In protest of Wikipedia staging a blackout on Wednesday to protest the Stop Online Piracy Act, I will NOT be staging a blackout for A Cat Named Steve. This is because I’m lazy.

There is a magazine titled “Horse Illustrated“. The swimsuit issue is absolutely degrading and wretched. If we’re going to protest something, it should be pseudo horse-porn.

Please sign my petition in the comments section below.

There’s only one problem; there is no good candidate. Those that are available either have no moral compass (Ron Paul),  a questionable personal history (Newt Gingrich), or lack leadership skills (Rick Santorum). We’re screwed. Can someone grow a pair & run for president in 2016?  I hope so.

We were young. We had energy, spunk, and a kiss-my-ass attitude. We didn’t care who you were, where you were from, or that you have really weird quirks (like eating frozen corn from a plastic cup for a snack, or pouring the flavor packet from a packet of ramen onto the weird noodle-brick thingy and crunching into it like you’ve been in prison for the past 30 years*) – we were real.

Somewhere along the line, like the lone french fry underneath the driver’s seat of your car, we became stale, irrelevant, and useless. “Productivity” was our mantra, and stories fell by the wayside, lost in the game of work (the “game of work”? Is that an oxymoron?) that we began to take too seriously. There was a time where I would have shared my experiences & relationships with you – like my Peruvian roommate who makes Mexican jokes about himself, or a cat with hairball issues that pukes on the top step of a basement staircase with low lighting and a barefoot owner who is carrying a giant laundry basket about to walk down those same steps moments later…Those were good times.

Seriously though, there will come a time when this domain name will come up for renewal, and I’m gonna be too lazy to buy it again, and too bored with this blog to continue. This is why I need your help. For a one time donation of $10, you can make me feel better about myself and feel good about yourself too. Seriously though, I bought lunch for a homeless dude yesterday, it’s the least you could do for me.

I tweeted yesterday that this blog was dead. To some degree it is – I mean, I haven’t posted anything since May. But I’ve decided to put some life back into it and see if anything comes of it. I mean, what is there to lose? I’m still single even with my awesome Twitter account, and “Guy with a blog” seems like it would be very attractive to beautiful women. I also work out occasionally, ladies (wink).

Whatever.

*these weird quirks may or may not have been possessed by one certain former roommate, who shall remain nameless.

You see, there’s this well kept secret to having wealth, and it also just happens to be the same secret that gives you a flat belly. All you have to do is OBEY.

Pretty sure that next time, I’m going to accept the invitation to the meeting. I’m also going to show up in a cowboy hat with a giant belt buckle pretending to be an oil tycoon looking to get a larger-than-life return on my investment. The sad part is, it’ll be the norm rather than the exception.

Also, this.

I might be crazy, but I still love this city.

Image from this post on Art of Manliness

In the past couple years, I’ve seen this city transform itself from one with little cultural identity to one that embraces its roots in authentic American culture with a resurgence in local farming, the growing presence & popularity of roots music, and great beer. The past 3 weekends have been filled with fantastic live music that I’m not sure is available anywhere else so readily. Lump all these things in with a winning baseball team, the best food in the world, and my presence, and you’ve got a recipe for a good time.

I saw the Tillers last night, and I’m pretty sure they get better every time I see them

I don’t think that Ohio actually sucks. I’m really surprised that whoever came up with that chart really couldn’t find anything worse about Ohio than the fact that we’re nerdy. They could have brought up the fact that we have no jobs, or our football teams are perennially embarrassing, or that Jerrry Springer was once the Mayor of Cincinnati. Instead, we’re nerdy. I’m almost mad that they couldn’t come up with anything worse.

In all reality though, Ohio is for Lovers.

You know what’s funny? DC drivers. They got like 6 measly inches of snow, and subsequently my Facebook News Feed was filled with status updates of people stuck on the highway, taking snow days from work, and complaining about having no food. I guess I’m not one to talk too much, because Cincinnati freaks out every time we have snow, but in my defense, you won’t find me complaining about snow. In fact, I get excited about the prospect of driving in terrible weather.

Man up, DC.

I saw this comparison the other day of Shanghai in 1990 vs 2010. It’s a much bigger difference, but it made me think of this comparison of Cincinnati from 1987 to 2009. I may have posted that before, but it’s worth posting again. It makes me think of when I moved to Cincinnati from Florida. Those were good times.

A Modest Pear

If there’s anything that the Toy Story movie series has taught us, it’s that inanimate objects come alive when we’re not around. I put a camera in my kitchen to prove it, and here’s the proof. Ok, I didn’t do that, but you get the point. I had to come up with some reason to post the link. See how they made the cleft in the pear look like a butt crack? I thought that was funny too. You’re a perv.

So if you’re a guy, you know how awkward it can be when picking a urinal in the men’s bathroom. Here’s an example of what’s wrong. Actually, picking a urinal isn’t that hard. The concept is really based on avoiding being in close proximity to other men while using a urinal. As the ICBE notes, you should always avoid trough urinals too. Trough urinals are gross. They have them at the Indy 500. Bad idea.

I miss Reds baseball. I spent 20 minutes today reliving highlights from the 2010 season just to get my juices flowing. Apparently it’s only 63 days until Opening Day. 63 days is too long. Baseball should be year-round.

Ok, I’m done for the night. Peace homies.