Suffocation from the masses is a terrifically slow way to kill your personality

My cat is stalking me.

Yes. Stalking me.

Every waking moment of it's existence seems to be geared towards finding me. I daresay if I didn't have such a thick door leading up to my lair, it'd have the thing broken down in a desperate attempt to cling.

Heh. I don't do clinginess.

But to give you an idea to the extent of which I am being stalked, consider this: I was walking outside in the pitch black, when all of the sudden I feel something brush up against my leg. Now, luckily for my cat, I didn't kick it out of reflex. But in order for it to be outside in the first place it has to go through the whole hassle of getting out the "window". (I put it like that because it's not exactly a window anymore. More like half a falling down window frame being held up by plastic.)

Ah well. I really didn't need to share that, but I don't have the ambition to post anything more interesting. Not that I particularly care if my blog is interesting. I highly doubt anyone reads it anyway.

But on the off chance someone is: You've read my blog. Now I own your soul. MUAHAHAHAHA...