Things I Say to my Cat

"Hello Mrs"

"Do you smell of biscuits?"

"Are you a biscuit baby?"

"I love you."

"You smell like biscuits."

"Hello pretty."

"You are cuteiful"

Perhaps my cat's only real shortcoming is her inability to appreciate a good portmanteau. She really is very lovely. Sometimes she does smell a bit biscuity. I don't know if we started getting a new brand of cat biscuits or something, but when she brushes her tiny chin against my nose, it's smells like biscuits. There you go.

Cats are the ideal recipient of small talk. Talking to a cat is like a form of lingual catharsis, in which your words needn't actually be words, excessive intonation is justifiable and nothing you say is of any real benefit to either party. Claire Lovell gets quite annoyed sometimes when I talk to the cat. The cat also gets annoyed sometimes.

Yesterday over dinner, my mum explained to us all that when I was two I came out in a rash on account of having three adult portions of bran flakes in one sitting. Apparently the rash changed places, fading spectrally from one area to another without explanation. When questioned regarding the medical validity of this account, Mum relayed to us that she took me to see the doctor, who is reported to have looked me over and said something along the lines of : "Yeah, that's bran flake rash."

Wow, that was all quite boring. I'm sorry readers, but my desire to maintain the blog does not have any bearing on the inescapable dullness of my present circumstances. I'm becoming quite diligent. It's sort of rewarding, but it's not very interesting.

Not Quite Perfect

Oh hello.

I watched 'Pitch Perfect' yesterday. I think Matt Hobbs recommended it to me. He will answer for this.

Pitch perfect tries to be ironic in places, but it cannot escape from what it is. It's a film about university students, aimed at kids who can't wait to be university students. As such, the protagonist (whose name I forget) has all the smug self-importance of your average fourteen year old, who believes themselves to be ineffably unique to all other human beings, and for whom self expression and / or discovery are seemingly the end goals of all sentient life. Masterfully balancing angst and apathy, Barbara (it was something like that) is so unbelievably boring that I can't really be bothered to dislike her. At one point she goes to a party, and just stands there parading her lack of excitement as though it were genuinely a virtue.

My other big qualm with this movie is that all East Asians are depicted as psychotic / uncaring. Literally all of them. The only lesbian in the film is continually looking for excuses to assault her co-eds. I don't mean to sound like the mushy liberal that university is slowly turning me into, but this whole film is about being free to express your true self, so long as your individuality is merely perceived, but you don't actually deviate from the norm of white, straight, irritating teenager.

Final Score: 2/5 'Mildly entertaining in places, but neither subtle nor shocking. A tedious film. The singing is good obviously.

For all of it's flaws, I will credit PP with reminding me what an absolute banger this tune is:

Let's review something else. Let's review my new board game 'Dead of Winter':

It's a very good board game.

10/10 would review again.

That's the end of the review section of today's blog. Possibly the end of today's blog.

Yes.

B.o.B will play us out with this number one jam on the transient nature of worldly gain, and the importance of an assurance of salvation.

Thanks, Bob.

Don't worry kids, I think the blog will be back again very soon. This was just a warmup maybe. If you need me, I'll be playing Left 4 Dead.