The sin of envy

Okay, it's really a rant, sort of.

I envy the cats, all four of them.

I went to Curves today to beat the you-know-what out of my muscles, and see
Roxie, a natural athlete, jump with effortless ease onto the highest shelf
in the house, with less exertion than it takes me to open a carton of milk.
And she's thin.

I go to work and get the you-know-what beat out of me by my new boss, Scott
Hitler Jr., who takes a sick satisfaction in giving me hell because I insist
on wearing natural fibres. And I come home and see Stosh, who doesn't take
crap from anyone, and for whom every waking moment is playtime. He has the
remarkable ability to cram a day's enjoyment into a single minute, and
throws himself into play with anything he can get his little paws on.

Every day i am forced to be friendly to people who talk trash to me, and I
come home to Brandy, the friendliest of all the babies. How does she DO it?
I envy her. Nothing bothers her. She is just charming and buddies up to one
and all. By the end of a night on the phones I want to answer a call with
"Thank you for calling my bank, you yutz, and what the #@%# do you want
now?" And since I can't say it, I get stressed. So how does Brandy do it?

And since Louie is always getting me up early while he sleeps in (and I have
to go to work later than he) I envy Odessa her beauty rest. No one can sleep
with such talent. Sleeping Beauty, the dear little girl. She will stretch
herself out in a way that makes sleep look as delectable and sinful as a
romantic rendez-vous in a forbidden place. I just want to sleep in! And I'm
so flipping tired that I'm sitting here bitching about cat envy. No wonder I
go to a shrink.

Blessed be,
Baha

--

Three thousand years ago,
cats were deified in ancient Egypt.
To this day, they have not forgotten.

In article , "Singh"
wrote:

Okay, it's really a rant, sort of.

I envy the cats, all four of them.

I went to Curves today to beat the you-know-what out of my muscles, and
see
Roxie, a natural athlete, jump with effortless ease onto the highest
shelf
in the house, with less exertion than it takes me to open a carton of
milk.
And she's thin.

I go to work and get the you-know-what beat out of me by my new boss,
Scott
Hitler Jr., who takes a sick satisfaction in giving me hell because I
insist
on wearing natural fibres. And I come home and see Stosh, who doesn't
take
crap from anyone, and for whom every waking moment is playtime. He has
the
remarkable ability to cram a day's enjoyment into a single minute, and
throws himself into play with anything he can get his little paws on.

Every day i am forced to be friendly to people who talk trash to me, and
I
come home to Brandy, the friendliest of all the babies. How does she DO
it?
I envy her. Nothing bothers her. She is just charming and buddies up to
one
and all. By the end of a night on the phones I want to answer a call with
"Thank you for calling my bank, you yutz, and what the #@%# do you want
now?" And since I can't say it, I get stressed. So how does Brandy do it?

And since Louie is always getting me up early while he sleeps in (and I
have
to go to work later than he) I envy Odessa her beauty rest. No one can
sleep
with such talent. Sleeping Beauty, the dear little girl. She will stretch
herself out in a way that makes sleep look as delectable and sinful as a
romantic rendez-vous in a forbidden place. I just want to sleep in! And
I'm
so flipping tired that I'm sitting here bitching about cat envy. No
wonder I
go to a shrink.

Blessed be,
Baha

Two visualizations may help:

Cat in psychoanalysis, lying on the back of the therapy couch.

Cat shower. A standard shower stall, with the usual faucets, but a
giant tongue in place of the nozzle.

Omgosh, Baha, it's so nice to your post -- you can make even a rant post
poetic! I'm sorry you've had a lot of frustrations recently...I do get the
human vs. cat agility comparison but do tell more about this second
paragraph and the boss with the "natural fibers hang-ups?" Maybe you should
tell him that if he'll foot the bill, you'll be happy to get a complete
clothes makeover! Tell him you'll be happy to set a date for you to go
shopping together; then you tell Louie he's got to get up early so you can
go shopping with your boss! ( Can you tell I'm in a weird mood tonight? ;o)
No, tell Louie that you need to catch up on your beauty sleep so you're
going to check into a motel for a night and get some good rest...seriously,
though, maybe what you need to do is go to bed really early, for a few
nights so you can get some rest. Tell Louie he needs to share "early
riser" duty with you and ya'll alternate days. If, this doesn't get the
follow-through it needs to, then either give him a list of errands he can
run for you so you can take a "nap" or you try the motel sleepover thingie
on Saturday mornings. I think the heart of a lot of your stress is being
too tired so if you can resolve that successfully I think you won't feel so
overwhelmed and have "cat envy!"

Hope this wasn't too loopy a post -- speaking of sleep, I'm really needing
to get some right now so g'night and hope things are brighter for you in the
next few days.
hugs and purrs,
Christine (feeling the antihistimines kicking in....lalala, snore)
"Singh" wrote in message
...
Okay, it's really a rant, sort of.

I envy the cats, all four of them.

I went to Curves today to beat the you-know-what out of my muscles, and
see
Roxie, a natural athlete, jump with effortless ease onto the highest shelf
in the house, with less exertion than it takes me to open a carton of
milk.
And she's thin.

I go to work and get the you-know-what beat out of me by my new boss,
Scott
Hitler Jr., who takes a sick satisfaction in giving me hell because I
insist
on wearing natural fibres. And I come home and see Stosh, who doesn't take
crap from anyone, and for whom every waking moment is playtime. He has the
remarkable ability to cram a day's enjoyment into a single minute, and
throws himself into play with anything he can get his little paws on.

Every day i am forced to be friendly to people who talk trash to me, and I
come home to Brandy, the friendliest of all the babies. How does she DO
it?
I envy her. Nothing bothers her. She is just charming and buddies up to
one
and all. By the end of a night on the phones I want to answer a call with
"Thank you for calling my bank, you yutz, and what the #@%# do you want
now?" And since I can't say it, I get stressed. So how does Brandy do it?

And since Louie is always getting me up early while he sleeps in (and I
have
to go to work later than he) I envy Odessa her beauty rest. No one can
sleep
with such talent. Sleeping Beauty, the dear little girl. She will stretch
herself out in a way that makes sleep look as delectable and sinful as a
romantic rendez-vous in a forbidden place. I just want to sleep in! And
I'm
so flipping tired that I'm sitting here bitching about cat envy. No wonder
I
go to a shrink.

Blessed be,
Baha

--

Three thousand years ago,
cats were deified in ancient Egypt.
To this day, they have not forgotten.

Singh wrote in message
...
Okay, it's really a rant, sort of.

I envy the cats, all four of them.

I went to Curves today to beat the you-know-what out of my muscles, and
see
Roxie, a natural athlete, jump with effortless ease onto the highest shelf
in the house, with less exertion than it takes me to open a carton of
milk.
And she's thin.

Oh, I hear ya on this one! Around my sweet, graceful ENERGETIC girls, I feel
like a clay elephant, all of whose feet are left ones. Which naturally
makes me want another brownie, which is somewhat self-defeating.

I go to work and get the you-know-what beat out of me by my new boss,
Scott
Hitler Jr., who takes a sick satisfaction in giving me hell because I
insist
on wearing natural fibres.

What's HIS problem? If it makes you feel better, I wear natural fibres if at
all possible. Especially in warm weather. Synthetic stuff just does not
breathe. However, I've never had to justify this preference to anyone at
work.

And I come home and see Stosh, who doesn't take
crap from anyone, and for whom every waking moment is playtime. He has the
remarkable ability to cram a day's enjoyment into a single minute, and
throws himself into play with anything he can get his little paws on.

Every day i am forced to be friendly to people who talk trash to me, and I
come home to Brandy, the friendliest of all the babies. How does she DO
it?
I envy her. Nothing bothers her. She is just charming and buddies up to
one
and all. By the end of a night on the phones I want to answer a call with
"Thank you for calling my bank, you yutz, and what the #@%# do you want
now?" And since I can't say it, I get stressed. So how does Brandy do it?

Simple--she doesn't have to answer phones and talk to people who complain
all day! Nor does she have to worry about finding jobs, or putting up with
irritating people she'd rather not talk to at all.
She might be a little grump if she did have to do that. Instead, she gets to
lounge around, and then be up,
perky and energetic when you come home!



And since Louie is always getting me up early while he sleeps in (and I
have
to go to work later than he) I envy Odessa her beauty rest. No one can
sleep
with such talent. Sleeping Beauty, the dear little girl. She will stretch
herself out in a way that makes sleep look as delectable and sinful as a
romantic rendez-vous in a forbidden place. I just want to sleep in! And
I'm
so flipping tired that I'm sitting here bitching about cat envy. No wonder
I
go to a shrink.

Blessed be,
Baha

--

Three thousand years ago,
cats were deified in ancient Egypt.
To this day, they have not forgotten.

I'm an inveterate late sleeper myself by preference. Never met a "Morning
person" who didn't irritate me! Especially the ones who believe their
affection for getting up at the crack of sparrow fart by choice makes them
candidates for beatification.

So, courage Baha. You're not alone!
Melissa

"Melissa Houle" wrote in message
...

Singh wrote in message
...
Okay, it's really a rant, sort of.

I envy the cats, all four of them.

I went to Curves today to beat the you-know-what out of my muscles, and
see
Roxie, a natural athlete, jump with effortless ease onto the highest
shelf
in the house, with less exertion than it takes me to open a carton of
milk.
And she's thin.

Oh, I hear ya on this one! Around my sweet, graceful ENERGETIC girls, I
feel
like a clay elephant, all of whose feet are left ones. Which naturally
makes me want another brownie, which is somewhat self-defeating.

I go to work and get the you-know-what beat out of me by my new boss,
Scott
Hitler Jr., who takes a sick satisfaction in giving me hell because I
insist
on wearing natural fibres.

What's HIS problem? If it makes you feel better, I wear natural fibres if
at
all possible. Especially in warm weather. Synthetic stuff just does not
breathe. However, I've never had to justify this preference to anyone at
work.

And I come home and see Stosh, who doesn't take
crap from anyone, and for whom every waking moment is playtime. He has
the
remarkable ability to cram a day's enjoyment into a single minute, and
throws himself into play with anything he can get his little paws on.

Every day i am forced to be friendly to people who talk trash to me, and
I
come home to Brandy, the friendliest of all the babies. How does she DO
it?
I envy her. Nothing bothers her. She is just charming and buddies up to
one
and all. By the end of a night on the phones I want to answer a call with
"Thank you for calling my bank, you yutz, and what the #@%# do you want
now?" And since I can't say it, I get stressed. So how does Brandy do it?

Simple--she doesn't have to answer phones and talk to people who complain
all day! Nor does she have to worry about finding jobs, or putting up with
irritating people she'd rather not talk to at all.
She might be a little grump if she did have to do that. Instead, she gets
to
lounge around, and then be up,
perky and energetic when you come home!



And since Louie is always getting me up early while he sleeps in (and I
have
to go to work later than he) I envy Odessa her beauty rest. No one can
sleep
with such talent. Sleeping Beauty, the dear little girl. She will stretch
herself out in a way that makes sleep look as delectable and sinful as a
romantic rendez-vous in a forbidden place. I just want to sleep in! And
I'm
so flipping tired that I'm sitting here bitching about cat envy. No
wonder
I
go to a shrink.

Blessed be,
Baha

--

Three thousand years ago,
cats were deified in ancient Egypt.
To this day, they have not forgotten.

I'm an inveterate late sleeper myself by preference. Never met a "Morning
person" who didn't irritate me! Especially the ones who believe their
affection for getting up at the crack of sparrow fart by choice makes them
candidates for beatification.

So, courage Baha. You're not alone!
Melissa



It gets really tiresome watching "Morning People" act like it is genetically
superior. By this more civilized time of day I feel it is the
responsibility of night owls everywhere to stake our claim. Its easy to
make the morning people feel obsessive compulsive about themselves. (Just
don't try to do it before 2:30 PM. That's when most of them hit a wall.)

It didn't take me too long to get it across where I once worked that I do
not take meetings before 10AM. And later is even better. The whole concept
of breakfast meetings is perverse. But when they are in their jammies at
7pm trying to count their toes, I'm good for at least another five hours
work.

Jo

On Mon, 2 May 2005 23:02:10 -0400, "Singh"
yodeled:

Okay, it's really a rant, sort of.

I envy the cats, all four of them.

I went to Curves today to beat the you-know-what out of my muscles, and see
Roxie, a natural athlete, jump with effortless ease onto the highest shelf
in the house, with less exertion than it takes me to open a carton of milk.
And she's thin.

I go to work and get the you-know-what beat out of me by my new boss, Scott
Hitler Jr., who takes a sick satisfaction in giving me hell because I insist
on wearing natural fibres. And I come home and see Stosh, who doesn't take
crap from anyone, and for whom every waking moment is playtime. He has the
remarkable ability to cram a day's enjoyment into a single minute, and
throws himself into play with anything he can get his little paws on.

Every day i am forced to be friendly to people who talk trash to me, and I
come home to Brandy, the friendliest of all the babies. How does she DO it?
I envy her. Nothing bothers her. She is just charming and buddies up to one
and all. By the end of a night on the phones I want to answer a call with
"Thank you for calling my bank, you yutz, and what the #@%# do you want
now?" And since I can't say it, I get stressed. So how does Brandy do it?

And since Louie is always getting me up early while he sleeps in (and I have
to go to work later than he) I envy Odessa her beauty rest. No one can sleep
with such talent. Sleeping Beauty, the dear little girl. She will stretch
herself out in a way that makes sleep look as delectable and sinful as a
romantic rendez-vous in a forbidden place. I just want to sleep in! And I'm
so flipping tired that I'm sitting here bitching about cat envy. No wonder I
go to a shrink.

Blessed be,
Baha


I know the feeling. I wish I could be more like Stinky. He is like a
furry little Buddha.



Theresa
Stinky Pictures: http://community.webshots.com/album/125591586JWEFwh
My Blog: http://www.humanitas.blogspot.com

"Singh" wrote in message
...
Okay, it's really a rant, sort of.

I envy the cats, all four of them.

I went to Curves today to beat the you-know-what out of my muscles, and
see
Roxie, a natural athlete, jump with effortless ease onto the highest shelf
in the house, with less exertion than it takes me to open a carton of
milk.
And she's thin.

I go to work and get the you-know-what beat out of me by my new boss,
Scott
Hitler Jr., who takes a sick satisfaction in giving me hell because I
insist
on wearing natural fibres. And I come home and see Stosh, who doesn't take
crap from anyone, and for whom every waking moment is playtime. He has the
remarkable ability to cram a day's enjoyment into a single minute, and
throws himself into play with anything he can get his little paws on.

Every day i am forced to be friendly to people who talk trash to me, and I
come home to Brandy, the friendliest of all the babies. How does she DO
it?
I envy her. Nothing bothers her. She is just charming and buddies up to
one
and all. By the end of a night on the phones I want to answer a call with
"Thank you for calling my bank, you yutz, and what the #@%# do you want
now?" And since I can't say it, I get stressed. So how does Brandy do it?

And since Louie is always getting me up early while he sleeps in (and I
have
to go to work later than he) I envy Odessa her beauty rest. No one can
sleep
with such talent. Sleeping Beauty, the dear little girl. She will stretch
herself out in a way that makes sleep look as delectable and sinful as a
romantic rendez-vous in a forbidden place. I just want to sleep in! And
I'm
so flipping tired that I'm sitting here bitching about cat envy. No wonder
I
go to a shrink.

Blessed be,
Baha

Oh, I think all of us here are envious of our cats - after all, we spoil
them rotten! ;

Nice to hear from you again, Baha!

Hugs,

CatNipped


--

Three thousand years ago,
cats were deified in ancient Egypt.
To this day, they have not forgotten.

It gets really tiresome watching "Morning People" act like it is genetically
superior. By this more civilized time of day I feel it is the
responsibility of night owls everywhere to stake our claim. Its easy to
make the morning people feel obsessive compulsive about themselves. (Just
don't try to do it before 2:30 PM. That's when most of them hit a wall.)

ROFL! Okay, I'll try not to irritate you. I'm usually up at 4am and
at work, working by 6am. However, my wall hits at 1pm, and boy does
it hit HARD! I even tell my co-workers that my brain turns off and
to please leave me with mindless busy-work after then, cause I have no
mind.
However, I do manage to sleep in on weekends. Often until almost 7am.

It didn't take me too long to get it across where I once worked that I do
not take meetings before 10AM. And later is even better. The whole concept
of breakfast meetings is perverse. But when they are in their jammies at
7pm trying to count their toes, I'm good for at least another five hours
work.

Yup, you have us pegged for sure. I'm in my jammies at 7, watching
mindless television and petting my Princess Rita. She expects this.
Letterman? Leno? Who are they?

Jane
- owned and operated by Princess Rita