I saw a calendar today called "Goodbye Kitty"; it was one of those things that makes me laugh in a sort of clandestine way. Every month, a drawing of a cat that sort of looks like the Hello Kitty cat is meeting its end (by toaster, by microwave). Which isn't really funny ... except ... it is. That damned Hello Kitty is everywhere. And I already lived through it once! And the Girl is turning 2 tomorrow, so I wager that Hello Kitty will soon be plastered all over my house because I talk a good game but I know I'll give in sooner or later.
Which reminds me, inexplicably, of the time the original Psycho Kitty (aka Marshmallow Cat, from whence came the screen name) decided that the floor was out to get him. He must have been, oh, about 2 or 3 years old. He was sleeping on a chair; a friend and I were sitting on the couch discussing something in a magazine. The cat awoke and jumped to the floor. I just happened to slap the magazine page with my hand just as he landed. At which point, he puffed up like a blowfish, launched himself back into the air, and wouldn't let his paws touch the carpet for the next 3 days. I had to carry him into the bathroom. Come to think of it, I think that's when he got his moniker.
Oh oh. He's looking at me now.