Meow, is Anyone There?

You know those times in Art class when you're doing something you've done at home like paint a picture? And then when you do it in class for your teacher to see, it's like Fohmygodwhathteheckholycowmacaronicheese good. But the one you did at home just for yourself, it's just plain, well, sucky.

That's how I feel about my blog.

I do it for myself to keep up with the times and not waste paper on diaries. (Pssshhht, diaries. Hah! More like...uh...suck-iaries?) And no one but my close friends glimpse at it.

And I really mean glimpse as in they take a peek and nothing more. Not even really read it. I don't blame them, I'm not much of a biography writer. Especially ones at the top of my head.

But then, for Language Arts, I do this blog. Educational blog. Also known as an edublog. And can you believe it? I have around sixty-five views from around the world! And a comment from some random person who is really bad at English!

What? Why? Huh?

It's educational for Pete's (who's Pete anyway?) sake! God! I don't even really get comments on this one. I guess I'll be sulking about the sadness of my life on this blog forever with no one to read my tantrums.

I'm sighing in depression, just so you know.

ANYWAYS, did you know my cat went to the vet? Yeah, Simba. He went to the vet because he wasn't hoarding food into his mouth as usual for the past three days. He was mewing all the way. We thought maybe it was because he thought we were going to send him somewhere and never take him home ever again.

When we arrived there, it was dripping wet. We missed the entrance and had to circle around the whole building with heavy rain pouring on us and mud just about every step and a mewing cat in a heavy cage in MY arms.

After a whole ten minutes of boredom and forced patience, one of the five vets came over to check on Simba. When he tried to get him out, Simba went crazy. A kind of crazy that only cats can make dangerous.

He clawed and hissed and spat and had his ears flattened to the sides of his head in a really cute way that makes you want to hug him until you see his teeth all sharp and lethal so you step back and not touch him...way? It was funny. And scary. But mostly funny.

I really don't blame Simba because the vet we got wasn't all too friendly. He tried to bite him. Simba, not the vet.

That's pretty much it.

Oooh, check out my failure at drawing on the computer:

Just so you know, the one that looks like a cross between a fail porcupine and a snake with weird things that are supposed to look like wings floating above it's spine is mine. Also known as the Left One.

It's weird. I'm pretty good at art. Not to be perasan, but I've gotten compliments like "Hey, that girl drawing is pretty cool" or "How did you cut out that bird+tree+random flowers design on black paper so nicely?" or "I want to learn how to make a fake tree out of cardboard too!". But in terms with technology, I suck. Suck like eggs. And milk. Bad milk. Like the sour milk that makes you sick by seeing the scent lines that floats over the carton.

Sorry for the delay. I was busy pretending to be a slave in history class, updating my educational blogs, watching movies for said blog, shopping with my friends and doing homework. In other words, I also have a life. So if you, reader (if I actually have one), were waiting long hours or maybe even days for this post, I'm sorry. But go get a life. This blog isn't worth much wait.

I'm just kidding. Hell yeah, it's worth the wait.

Marsymallow salutes you for you consistent persistence. (hehe, big words)