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clo_againI was figuring on waiting at least an hour for the elimination chamber match but it's the first one out. I'm really glad I turned over for 1am instead of watching the last ten minutes of Being Human.
Jeff looks a little over-tanned, like maybe he fell asleep on a sunbed; there's a distinct tone of orange. My money is so not on him in this match, alas. Sorry Jeff. I just can't see them giving it back to you right now though my track record with these predictions is crap so don't take it to heart.
(I've gotta say, this is weird. I'm watching Jeff vs Edge. I've watched this match a million times, except this isn't for tag titles or for funsies or even the intercontinental title, this is a main event for the WWE Championship. It's like my teenager years all grown up. It's-well. Weird.
Oh Jeff's now getting the crap beaten out of him. Normal business is resumed.)
~
Casper is sleeping on the sofa (which he isn't supposed to) leaning against my ankles so I can't go get a drink. I had to go chase off the neigbourhood king cat for him earlier on, a compact little black cat with beautiful fur who we've already seen psych out the big fat tabby a few doors down (he literally just went and sat next to him until the clearly-uncomfortable tabby made a break for it and the black one went after him a little way to make sure he was gone. This is one terrifyingly smart cat) and, as I discovered earlier on, the most beautiful meow of any cat I've ever met. He's like a soprano cat. I sat outside listening to him exchange mrows with Casper for five minutes, just because it was so pretty.
He's also smaller than Casper and didn't do anything other than stare at him until Casper ran away, even with me sitting right behind him. It's official; my cat is a complete wuss. The black one has impecable manners though, because he tried to follow Casper into the house but didn't even wriggle when I grabbed him and carried him down the yard to the wall. He just looked down at me all smart innocence as if to say "But I wasn't *doing* anything". I think he suspected I'm a soft touch for pretty felines and wished I didn't have to chase such a pretty cat away.
Then he came back to the door three times until my dad threw water at him. Frankly I think we should've pushed Casper outside to fight his own battles because otherwise he'll never get any peace outside (plus he is the bigger cat and the black one didn't even make a move to attack him, just *looked*) but my mother overruled me with her firm belief that Casper is made of cotton wool and must be mollycoddled.
There's also something going on with the little white cat who seems to think she should live here (I call her Bats because she's clearly still mostly-insane-kitten). Casper went and sat next to her a few days ago and they meowed at each other for a bit until they both parted apparently amicably... but she ran away the moment she saw Casper this morning. I don't know. He hasn't even met the other black cat Coogie (that's what his collar says. No I don't know either), the big fat tabby or the tortiseshell who lives in the end terrace. And that's just the cats I've seen; more keep showing up.
When I say we've moved into The Secret World of Cats here, I am not kidding. Not even a little.
~
Well, bye-bye Jeff. For once I actually pegged the end to a match before it happened (the Undertaker will wins, just watch. I thought that half an hour ago dammit). At least I can go to bed before 4am now and not fall asleep in Inkheart tomorrow, which I almost thought about not-seeing until![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
make_a_move said "Paul Bettany! Shirtless! Hipbones!" I'd hate to fall asleep and miss Paul Bettany in all his deliciousness. Mmmmmm.
(I was wrong about the match by the way. Which still means I can say I told you so, because I told you I was terrible at predictions.
I can go to bed now. Huh.)
Jeff looks a little over-tanned, like maybe he fell asleep on a sunbed; there's a distinct tone of orange. My money is so not on him in this match, alas. Sorry Jeff. I just can't see them giving it back to you right now though my track record with these predictions is crap so don't take it to heart.
(I've gotta say, this is weird. I'm watching Jeff vs Edge. I've watched this match a million times, except this isn't for tag titles or for funsies or even the intercontinental title, this is a main event for the WWE Championship. It's like my teenager years all grown up. It's-well. Weird.
Oh Jeff's now getting the crap beaten out of him. Normal business is resumed.)
~
Casper is sleeping on the sofa (which he isn't supposed to) leaning against my ankles so I can't go get a drink. I had to go chase off the neigbourhood king cat for him earlier on, a compact little black cat with beautiful fur who we've already seen psych out the big fat tabby a few doors down (he literally just went and sat next to him until the clearly-uncomfortable tabby made a break for it and the black one went after him a little way to make sure he was gone. This is one terrifyingly smart cat) and, as I discovered earlier on, the most beautiful meow of any cat I've ever met. He's like a soprano cat. I sat outside listening to him exchange mrows with Casper for five minutes, just because it was so pretty.
He's also smaller than Casper and didn't do anything other than stare at him until Casper ran away, even with me sitting right behind him. It's official; my cat is a complete wuss. The black one has impecable manners though, because he tried to follow Casper into the house but didn't even wriggle when I grabbed him and carried him down the yard to the wall. He just looked down at me all smart innocence as if to say "But I wasn't *doing* anything". I think he suspected I'm a soft touch for pretty felines and wished I didn't have to chase such a pretty cat away.
Then he came back to the door three times until my dad threw water at him. Frankly I think we should've pushed Casper outside to fight his own battles because otherwise he'll never get any peace outside (plus he is the bigger cat and the black one didn't even make a move to attack him, just *looked*) but my mother overruled me with her firm belief that Casper is made of cotton wool and must be mollycoddled.
There's also something going on with the little white cat who seems to think she should live here (I call her Bats because she's clearly still mostly-insane-kitten). Casper went and sat next to her a few days ago and they meowed at each other for a bit until they both parted apparently amicably... but she ran away the moment she saw Casper this morning. I don't know. He hasn't even met the other black cat Coogie (that's what his collar says. No I don't know either), the big fat tabby or the tortiseshell who lives in the end terrace. And that's just the cats I've seen; more keep showing up.
When I say we've moved into The Secret World of Cats here, I am not kidding. Not even a little.
~
Well, bye-bye Jeff. For once I actually pegged the end to a match before it happened (the Undertaker will wins, just watch. I thought that half an hour ago dammit). At least I can go to bed before 4am now and not fall asleep in Inkheart tomorrow, which I almost thought about not-seeing until
make_a_move said "Paul Bettany! Shirtless! Hipbones!" I'd hate to fall asleep and miss Paul Bettany in all his deliciousness. Mmmmmm.(I was wrong about the match by the way. Which still means I can say I told you so, because I told you I was terrible at predictions.
I can go to bed now. Huh.)
