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I hate cats. I mean I really fucking hat them. Cat people just can’t comprehend just how much people like me hate cats.

I see cats not far small demons that have cast a spell on those around them. The more people think cats are cute the more it pains me. It’s like that couple that think their kid is cute, when he is running around pissing on everything and making a noise. And you wonder why they can’t see that their child is demon spawn. Well cats for me like that. Except with tear gas.

And the anthropomorphising of cats? It drives me up the wall. It’s a fucking animal. Arrgh. Stop it just stop it please for the love of heck stop it. It doesn’t think, it doesn’t have a voice and it sure as hell isn’t a fucking Disney movie.

Anyway, I suppose I slightly over react to cats, but over the years this has built up and a built up. I tried to describe why in my Ode to Cats but no one really got it. Let me try explain.

I bet lawyers and accountants and non techies never have these kinds of conversations

jc> I found out why sometimes you have problems loading the page, but then why when I do it a few seconds later it’s fine

me> yeah

me> because you hate me?

me> vzaar hates me?

me> Larry and Sergio hate me?

jc> secretly I think they ‘hate’ everyone

me> god hates me?

jc> God strikes down and smites fat mongrels

me> so god is bouncing mongrals too often?

jc> anyways I’ve made god more tolerant

jc> the app is still a little too fat for it’s own good

jc> but now God will excuse it

jc> god did it to smite memory hogs

jc> but now god is more forgiving

me> I am so bloggin gthis conversation

[JC is our super genius head of dev and tech, and whilst super brilliant, is not actually the son of god]

I’ve been fighting a silent battle of the last few weeks.

In the corner of our office we have a floorplate with a few cables coming out of it that stretch to the printer, the WiFi hub and NAS hard drive. Every day the cleaners come in, lift the floor plate up to plug in the vacuum cleaner and then drop the lid back down when done.

Unfortunately this pinches the cables and network cables don’t like to be pinched. Plus it annoys my sense of tidyness (right you can stop laughing right this second thankyouverymuch)

I complained to office management to no avail. I asked the cleaners directly to no avail.

So eventually instead of complaining I thought I would do something about it. I took a 4 plug multi-adaptor and plugged it in and left it on top of the floor box.

The next evening I was working late (well I was working normal hours which seems to mean late) and watched the cleaners come in, open the floor box, unplug the empty 4 plug adaptor, plug in the vacuum cleaner, unplug the vacuum cleaner, plug back in the empty adaptor, drop the lid and pinch my cables.

Sometimes you just can’t win.

Ill. Sick. Run down. Dreams of nausea. Dreams of throwing up. Wake up. Not sure if I threw up or dreamt it. Still not 100% sure. Feel awful. Drag myself to the bath. Drag myself to bed. Feel awful. Lying in bed. In a towel. Oh god what's that. It's massive. I'm going to die, it's going to eat my children. Leap into the air. Panic. Try not to throw up. It's so big. Grab steel bin. Can't pin it, it's on the corner. How the fuck did that get into my room. It's so big. Where did it come from. How long has it been there, waiting, plotting. Throw a lid at it. It doesn't move. It stares me down with a look of pure evil. It knows it's faster than me. I throw another lid at it. It doesn't even flinch. Leap out of bed throw on some trousers, leap back into bed. It's still there. Leap out of bed, drag tv stand out the way, leap back to the bed. It's moving, oh my god oh my god oh my god. Grab bin. Try pin it. It's moving. Dance like the ground is on fire. It's under the bin. No it's not, what's that, that's two legs, oh that's just wrong, move the bin. It's out. Move the bin again. Got you you bastard. Run to the bathroom. Throw up. I can hear in the bin. Biting it's way through the metal, tap tap tap tap. It's going to get out, it's going to kill me in mysleep and use my body as a nesting ground to take over the world. It's going to eat me alive. Grab a blue folder. Slide it under. Oh god it's getting out move bin, move folder. Safe. Folder to weak. Find a book. Hard book. Slide book under and leap on the bed. Tap tap tap tap. Devil spawn. I feel sick. I am sick. Lift book place on balcony slam door shut. Don't want to leave it out there, don't want to set it free (it will chew through the glass and get back in). How long can I leave it there before it dies. Will it eat through the metal and attack me before it runs out of air? Oh god it's going to be pissed. I sit here now on my bed waiting, waiting for the war that will be my doom.

God I hate fricking spiders.

Dear Mr RBEMO¹

Firstly, let me thank you for the complement. I hate to be accused at doing anything half-heartedly, or not being complete at something.

I'm really sorry you had trouble getting out of your car. I myself simply climbed out of the passenger seat. See I didn't realise this was not an option for you. I assumed that is what you intended to do when you parked with your wheels over the white line². I really wasn't aware that because you have chosen to purchase a really big expensive car, that this meant you actually get to take up the two best parking bays right by my lift doors.

I'll certainly be writing to the car park management firm and make sure they post signs to this affect so that other insignificant people like myself don't make life difficult for you and your more important car. I would hate for someone else to go through what I have, after reading your note and realise feeling sick that I had done this to you, causing such irreparable distress. I know I should have instead parked far away and carried my shopping some distance which any community minded person would really have done. I'm so thoughtless.

Normally I pride myself on parking directly in the centre of the bay. You know us people with less expensive cars, we have to find small pleasures where we can, not being part of the cool kids with big expensive cars. To my eye I was really spot on, directly half way between the two white lines, but if I was a few microns too close to your car, thereby causing your struggles in life (no less than I'm sure Ghandi and Mandela themselves had to contend with) I really do take the blame. Next time I'll make sure I'm not a selfish pig who thinks he can park in the middle of a bay near an expensive car that has rights to both bays.

Thanks ever so much for folding back my mirror and putting my windscreen wipers up so I knew the wrong I had done. This is far less punishment than I deserve and I really should be whipped with the wiper blades till I cry out for repentance. I should probably be made to drink windscreen washer fluid in place of beer for months too. I'm not sure I can really understand the depths of my wrongness with just the wiper blades placed in the air.

I beg of you kind sir, for those of us less humans, who sometimes don't understand, and who are mere apes amongst men such as yourself; could you please simply park directly in the centre of both bays next time. This will avoid us of below simian intelligence from making the mistake of parking near your car at all.

Yours truly in the humblest of regrets
Adrian - complete wanker - Sevitz

¹ Really Big Expensive Mercedes Owner
² And again further apologies if you are Green/White colour blind and were unable to see this. I would not want to be perceived as being discriminatory to a minority group, no insult intended.