My name is…

Marcel-Henri. (mar-cel on-ri) In French, the "h" sound is silent. Also the "r" is pronounced with a gutteral sound in the back of the throat. Something that most non-french-speaking people cannot pull off. That's okay. You can call me Marcel, or "The Kit"

I know, pretty fancy. My mom thought she was being clever when she named me. Or quite possibly, she thought that by giving me a refined French name, I would settle down and become a refined French kitty. She was wrong. I am neither French nor refined.

I am smarter than she, however. She thinks we don't have internet service here at home. I'll let her figure out how I have taken over her blog. Imagine my surprise when, while browsing around on the net, I came across this blog. I knew it was hers when I stumbled across a brief mention of me. Next, imagine my dismay when I discovered that there were no posts dedicated me.

Let me introduce myself. I am "The Kit." The supreme commander, eater of kibble and all things dairy, 16 pounds of orange fur and belly-hang, ruler of the universe that is 800 sq. ft. of Paxton Road. I eat when I want, what I want; I get up on counters and tables that are "forbidden". All things are potential playthings; do not leave anything you hold dear within reach of my pink pads. Glasses and cups full of liquid and ice are just too tempting. I cannot ignore them.

This is me



I have the run of the universe all day while my mom is at work. When she's home, I still have the run of the universe. I use the term "work" loosely. She doesn't fool me. I have proof that she doesn't exert herself too much while she's away at "work". Look at what I have uncovered:



They were not pink when she left in the morning.

So I'm thinking that if she has time for spa day at BJ Alan Co., then she has time to write about the apple of her eye, the joy of her life, the reason she breathes.( I'd appreciate some support here in the comment section.)

So mom, when you read this, know that I expect some mention every now and then, and if you ever hang me upside down again, I'm going to bite you.

Love,
Marcel-Henri aka "The Kit"

Passing Time

As some of you know, I'm bored. It's been slow this week at work, so I've been spending hours and hours doing unconstructive things.

There is this game called Shape Shifter (it's on grab.com for anyone who is intersted). When I first started playing it, I was lucky if I got as far as level 10, and breaking 1 million for my score was a great achievement. Now, one short week later, I've reached level 33 (I was ONE SECOND and one shape away from level 34!) and broke the 6 million mark.

Here's what I did yesterday.


With exacto in hand, I hand cut all of these passes for the upcoming NAHL hockey tournament at the Ice Zone. This wasn't something I had to do – we actually have an industrial-sized paper cutter and someone who was going to opereate it, but I'm so bored, even this was better than trying for yet another level in Shape Shifter.

This is what I have planned for today:


Since it's getting to be warm weather time and I'll be wearing cute sandals and such, I really need to paint my toenails. I figured I'd waste some time today and get that little job done.

Then, while that's drying, maybe I'll do a little writing:




I've been writing down my dreams – I have some STRANGE dreams to be sure. Plus, I've got various song ideas which I thought I'd try to put down into some kind of cohesive something or other. We'll see what comes of it. (I love this journal, by the way. It's cool in a retro sort of way, and it inspires me to write because I like the way the pages look when they're filled with my writing. Lame, I know.)

Now I'm armed with everthing I'll need for a full, if not very productive, day.

Now back to Shape Shifter while my toes dry…

This just to say…

Kevin needs to blog.

New job or no new job; between episodes of South Park and The Family Guy;

Kevin needs to blog.

There.

I said it.

Someone had to.

Sibs

As I was reading Adrienne's post and came to the part about everyone's family, I was compelled to go to her previous posts and read the comments. Sam (hi Sam!) had the idea that we should all write about our siblings. Good idea, I think.

I am not a first-born. I am "technically" the youngest of my siblings. I say "technically" for two reasons:
1. I am a twin, so I am the same age as my sister. She was born first, though. Five minutes before me to be exact.

2. I have a stepbrother who is younger than me. He's not my brother by genetics, but he's my brother in every way that truly counts.

The oldest is my brother, Bob. He lives in The Woodlands, Texas (30 miles north of Houston) He is one year older than my sister and me, but is not like a first-born AT ALL. He's very sweet, though a little too passive in my opinion. Because he's so kind (and too passive), he tends to get crapped on a lot. When push comes to shove, however, he knows how to stand up for himself. He's a big teddy bear – a wonderful Christian example of a husband and family man.

Next is my twin sister, Stephanie. I don't know where to begin, so I'll just say that she's a lot like me, just older :). Her kids have shaped her life to make her very different than me in one important aspect; she has more patience! She's a fantastic mother – one of the best I know (and I know some pretty darn good moms!).

Then, there's me. Five minutes after I steal all of my sister's B-12 (leaving her with Spine Abifida. Sorry, Stephie), I come into the world as the last of the Harberson siblings. I was a brat growing up. I always had to get my way and wouldn't rest until I did. Come to think of it, maybe I'm the one who taught my sister all that patience stuff. With me, God was preparing her for motherhood.

Then there is my brother, Heath. As mentioned, he's my stepbrother. When my dad remarried, Heath came to live with us – he was two years old. I've known him nearly his entire life, and he is definitely a blessing. For me, there is no distinction – he's my little brother and that is that. He is in the Navy, and he's currently stationed in Japan for two years. He's very tall and handsome, but does not have the ego that normally comes with someone who looks like him. He's very gentle and kind and loves to just hang out and talk. Unfortunately, I don't get to see him very often, but when I do, we stay up until the wee hours (that term makes me laugh. What's a "wee" hour?) and talk about everything. We laugh a lot, too.

So those are my brothers and sisters. I'm blessed to have each of them in my life.

If I were stranded on an island…

Here it goes. Let it never be said that I would pass up the chance to earn 5,000 blog points. So here it goes, my list of 5 movie characters that I would choose to have with me were I stranded on an island…

1. The Black -– "The Black Stallion"
He's been stranded on an island before, so he already knows the ins and outs of island living. Plus, he's a beautiful black Arabian stallion. Enough said.

2. King Kong -– "King Kong"
Who wouldn't want a huge ape who can climb the tallest point on the island to look for any number of things: good food sources, other cool animals to add to my brood, and of course, rescuers. And, best of all, he likes blondes :)

3. Donkey -– "Shrek"
Pure entertainment value. Kong can shut him up if he starts to get too annoying.

4. Batman -– "Batman Begins"
He's a bad-ass bat in keeping with the animal theme here, and the best part, of course, is that when he's not a bat, he's a very hot man and let's face it, that can't be bad when you're the only two people stranded on an island.

5. Hedwig -– from the Harry Potter series
This is a no-brainer. When I'm ready to get off this island, I'll stick a note to his foot and send him to the mainland for help. However, with my oh-so hot half bat/half man, I don't think I'll be wanting to come home any time soon.

Important day in history - October 8

EVENTS:
1582 - Due to the implementation of the Gregorian calendar this day does not exist in this year in Italy, Poland, Portugal and Spain.

1871 - Four major fires break out on the shores of Lake Michigan in Chicago, Illinois, Peshtigo, Wisconsin, Holland, Michigan, and Manistee, Michigan. The Great Chicago Fire is the most famous of these, having left nearly 100,000 people homeless, although the Peshtigo Fire killed as many as 2,500 people making it the deadliest fire in United States history.

1956 - New York Yankees baseball pitcher Don Larsen pitches first (and only) perfect game in World Series history in Game 5 of the 1956 World Series.

1969 – Kim Wetzl born as Kimberly Renee Harberson (the second one of two). She stole all her sister's Vitamin B, which caused her sister to have Spine Abifida, very mild case, but Spine Abifida nonetheless. She has been forgiven

BIRTHS:
1949 - Sigourney Weaver, American actress

1948 - Johnny Ramone, American guitarist (The Ramones) (d. 2004)

1965 - C-Jay Ramone, American bassist (The Ramones)

1969 - Kim Wetzl (born Kimberly Renee Harberson), American guitarist (Asphalt 23)

1969 - Julia Ann, American porn actress. I had to throw this one in. Same birthday EXACTLY. Scary how I could have ended up, huh? I think I must have prevailed due to my abundance of Vitamin B.

DEATHS:
1869 - Franklin Pierce, 14th President of the United States (b. 1804)

1894 - Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr., American physician and writer (b. 1809)

1809 - James Elphinston, Scottish philologist (b. 1721) What's a "philologist?

I bet my Sigourney beats Jude and Keifer hands down. I don't see either one of them battling giant disgusting Aliens single handedly. AND SURVIVING TO TELL THE TALE!

Days like these

I've already had a stressful day, and it's only 8:53 a.m.

To start it all off, I forgot to set my alarm last night, so I woke up late. Not very late, mind you, but late enough to put me behind right from the start. You see, I'm what my mom calls a "piddler". In other words, it takes me twice the amount of time to do the same task as a "non-piddler". I can't help it; It's in my genes. My sister is a piddler, my mom is a piddler, my mom's mom was a piddler, and I'm sure my mom's mom's mom was a piddler, too.

Anyway, I get up late and go into the kitchen to make my coffee and fix my bowl of cereal. (These days, I'm hooked on the Strawberry Delight Frosted Mini Wheats. Very tasty). My cat is screaming at me to feed him, so I put a scoop of food into his bowl and he digs in. As I take my coffee and my cereal into the living room to watch the news, I notice two piles of puke where my darling cat has decided to throw up two massive hair balls during the night. Nice. So after cleaning up the hair balls and gagging so hard I thought I might hyper-ventilate, I settle down to my coffee and cereal, which is no longer a nice wake up moment, but rather a frantic rush to make up some time. As I'm going into the kitchen to put my cereal bowl in the sink, I notice that my piggy cat has thrown up his breakfast because he ate too fast, then played with his catnip pillow like a maniac without letting the food digest first. Imbecile. So, puke pile #3. Gross.

Everything was okay after that. The shower and dressing went off without a hitch – still running a little late (about five minutes), but that could be made up on the drive to work, considering that most people were already at work and the traffic would be minimal. All was well with this thinking until I got about a quarter of a mile from work. Right in front of the Vindicator building, a semi truck decides that he want to try to get himself out of this tiny little parking area, and pulls out into the street blocking all lanes of traffic coming from both sides. What an imbecile. Why not wait for five minutes, then everyone will be at work and the road will be clear? Instead, he blocks the road and holds up about 20 cars (me included) while he tries to get his massive vehicle out of this tiny lot. He can't do it, so he gives up and retreats back into the tiny parking lot. There goes the time I made up, and now I'm late for work.

One good thing came out of this morning, though. I got to use the word "imbecile" twice!