XOXO Gossip Girl Rawks!

Lily getting what she deserves for being so ridiculous as to pick Bart-the-father-of-I’m-Chuck-(the evil spawn)-Bass over cute ol’ Rufus? Awesome.

Little J getting what she deserves for daring to cross Queen Bee? QUEEN FREAKING BEE?! Super awesome.

Vanessa getting what she deserves for… well, just being totally annoying, not to mention wearing children’s art supplies as accessories and sporting the weed-WACK ‘do? All is right in the Gossip Girl World.

But Dan? Self-righteously and undeservedly lashing out at Serena? And essentially calling her a spoiled rich slut? One too many times, I might add? And telling her to own up to it? And totally unleashing the righteous fury of a Queen S scorned?! And getting the public humiliation smackdown his tortured, I’m-So-Misunderstood-and-Poor-and-Blah-Blah-Self-Righteous-Blahdy-Blah self so richly deserves?! From the newly reborn Serena who is now the scariest freaking badass ever?!

So! Freaking! AWESOME! You go, Badass Serena. But go easy on Blair, mm’kay? She’s had it rough, with her Lord totally doing it with his stepmom and all.

Oh, how I’ve missed you, oh television goodness. Promise to NEVER go away again.

Cat and Paige Expose Leopard and XP Secret Tips at TechnoGeekery

A new TechnoGeekery episode– featuring a reunion of Cat and Paige from the wildly popular television recap podcast, Veronica Mars REWIND– is now up! Check it out!

TechnoGeekery Show #28: Leopard and XP Secret Tip

This secret tip is so wicked awesome it is sure to help alleviate even the worst mouse clicking fatigue. And, hey! Who knew Leopard and Windows XP had so much in common? BOOYAH!

American Idol is WAY more exciting.

Dude. How very anticlimactic.

So, apparently the Surprisingly Essential First Page contest judges have not watched enough American Idol to learn how to go about informing the public about the contestants’ elimination from a public contest. Right? All I’m saying is they obviously don’t have an appreciation for how awesomely the judges and my wee Ryan bring the UN!COMFORTABLE! to the elimination process. Like the time– during the Best. Results Show. EVER.– when my Ry-Ry was all “Chrisyouaregoinghometonight.” And Chris Daughtry was like, “What in the which where? WHO IN THE WHAT NOW?!” and Kat McPhee was trying to do the Snoopy Dance of Joy and cry at the same time, and Taylor Hicks (soooooulpatrooool) and Elliott Yamin were like “Yes!” (*fist pump*) “Wow, sorry, dude”? And Chris was pissed– like, seriously, he looked like he wanted to reach through the television and kill me dead– but it was just so AWESOME?! And now they use Chris’s song as the farewell (AKA: See Ya, Wouldn’t Wanna Be Ya) song and he is totally kicking ass with his very own band which he named after his very own self so it all worked out in the end? You know?

Because, honestly… how fun was THIS?! No fun at ALL, that’s how fun! We put ourselves out there, lay it all on the line, and what do we get? Nothing! A big ZIP. Nada. Zilch. ZIPPO. What about the bottom three? And the agony of staying in the bottom three until “after the break”? And where was the anxiety? The tears? The almost unbearable stress? The gratuitous “You look great tonight” and “You moved me”? The thinly veiled homophobic posturing? HUH?! Seriously. I’m saying.

But I have to give the judges their props, yo? 675 entries? Hey, I mean, Simon, Paula, and Randy get a gagillion contestants or whatever, so they could be all like, “Oooh, ‘wah!’ 675 entries? Bitch, please.” But there’s THREE of them– not just two, right?– so there you go.

But whatever. I’m not discouraged. No worries. As God is my witness, if Chris Daughtry can headline his own personal shouty band, I can get myself published.

So it’s all good.

Cat, OUT.

Pet Store Shenanigans

Pet stores. Exciting for the kiddos, smelly to the momma, and oh-so educational. For EVERYBODY.

The other night we were in the vicinity of the pet store, so we threw caution to the wind and went to torture ourselves by looking at the most adorable kittens and puppies and other allergen-riddled mammals (and some way creepy non-mammals) that we can never ever buy, not even in a million years, as my kids will tell you, “Thanks to Mom and her stupid allergies that could totally kill her, GOSH!” But they’re not bitter. They love me.

So, we browsed the store, marveling at the gecko’s eyes, giggling over the mice-in-the-wheel shenanigans, and freaking out over the ssslithering ssslinkiness of the snakes. As we approached the cockatiel cage, a favorite stop of my kiddos, we inadvertently stumbled upon an intimate moment between the two cockatiel residents.

Now, listen… I don’t care what anyone says, NOBODY wants to watch these pet store animals get their freak on. They’re shameless exhibitionists, openly exulting in braggy displays of unrestrained lust– all, “Oooh! Look at me! Look at me!” (and often in positions that put the Kama Sutra to shame)– displays which everyone knows are not appropriate for public and/or mixed company, and it’s exposed and embarrassing and gross, like karaoke.

But I digress.

“Oh, my,” said Hannah, pausing for one infinitesimal moment before hurrying past the cage, an embarrassed grin slowly spreading across her face.

“What?” Alli asked before looking into the cage. “Ooooh! Look! That one’s giving the other one a piggyback ride!”

Tanner and Hannah snorted.

“She doesn’t know,” Tanner said, turning away from the cage.

“Yeah, she doesn’t,” Hannah agreed.

But Alli was having none of it. She stood there, a thoughtful expression on her face as she shifted her attention between her grinning and increasingly red-faced siblings and the busy little caged birdies.

Thankful for at least one child with a shred of farmyard innocence, I began to shoo my kids toward the exit. Before we made it two steps, however, TGIM wandered over from the aquarium section of the store.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Okay. FINE. I giggled (because… dirty!) but only in my head. Duh. I have filters! Most of the time!

“Look, Daddy!” Hannah said, pointing at the cage.

So TGIM looked. Then looked again. It was one of those amusing little television moments where you could practically hear the double-take sound effect.

Then TGIM looked at me, and his eyes did that yelling thing, you know, where they are all, “Um, hello? Cat? WHAT the…?!” Like somehow I encouraged the birds to go for a quickie during store hours! Whatever. My eyes told his eyes to just STEP OFF.

Suddenly, Alli turned away from the cage, and in an ah-HA! tone of voice exclaimed, “Oh, I know! They’re mating!”

“Giddyup, little horsey!” Hannah blurted out, pitching Tanner into a fit of the giggles.

You know how you do that thing when you are trying not to laugh at something your child says because you aren’t quite sure whether or not it would be appropriate to encourage said child in questionable expressions of humor? You know, that thing? With the trying not to laugh? TGIM and I were doing that thing. Well, attempting to do that thing, anyway.

Hey, don’t judge. You weren’t there. You don’t know.

We turned to leave. Hannah grabbed her red-faced daddy’s hand and skipped alongside him as we headed out the doors and into the parking lot. “Hey, did you see the smiles on the birdies’ faces, Daddy?” she asked.

Tanner– trailing behind the two– scoffed at her ignorance. “Birds don’t smile.”

“Those ones were. Did you see, Daddy?! Those were happy birdies!”

“Okay, now you’re just embarrassing me,” TGIM said and determinedly changed the subject. To dessert ideas, I think, which… brilliant?!

But at my side, I felt a gentle tug on my arm. I looked down at Alli, who grabbed my hand with her little one and said in an innocent, confiding little voice, “Well, that sure looked like an awkward way to mate, didn’t it Momma?!”

In an instant, sure knowledge of impending adolescence (times three!) struck me and wrestled the air from my lungs more quickly than that time my big sister slammed her end of the see-saw down so violently it launched me up and off… and down. THUNK.

Can’t…! breathe…! I remember thinking back then. I thought the same now.

I choked back the breathlessness. I powered through. There was time yet. Still time.

“Oh, absolutely,” was all I replied, as I squeezed her hand. “Absolutely.”

Validation! Concurrence!

Guess which new TV drama won the People’s Choice Awards?! Just GUESS! Gossip Girl? NO! Private Practice? UH-UH! Journeyman? NEIN! Could it have been… oh, MOONLIGHT, perhaps?! Hell, YES!

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Be truthful. How sexy is that Australian accent? DEAD sexy, that’s how sexy! Not that I care. Just thought I’d point it out, is all. Ahem.

Man. I love validation. What can I say? I’m needy like that.