Nous sommes sur passiveagressivenotes.com, voyons. Si on trouvait vraiment des notes passives-agressives sur ce site, ça se saurait. On trouve des notes, ça c’est sûr, beaucoup de notes. Certaines sont agressives. La grande majorité d’entre elles n’a rien, mais alors vraiment rien de passif-agressif. Et je déteste qu’on utilise à tort un mot, surtout dans le domaine de la psychologie ou de la psychiatrie . Mais ça doit être parce que je suis un Français arrogant (et lâche, et puant, et malpoli, et communiste, et qui dans son incarnation féminine ne se rase pas les aisselles, mais ça n’a rien à voir).

Oh well.

It happened, like, three times a week, too (hey, university students eat a lot of spaghetti).

And while I do try to stay within the bounds of net etiquette with this, it still is just one thing that irks *me* seeing complaints about “screaming.” Just a particular pet peeve of mine. Obviously I know I will still see it; it’s just one of those things.

Comes to the conclussion that sometimes a stump is just a stump.

**Awesome** story. I had a **truly** badass cat once, too, and he had a story like that – great cats are born for them, eh? Heh. Thanks!

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Sakurajima, was, like most cats, entirely convinced of his own talent. I can safely say, without exaggeration or scientific backup, he was a badass. He believed his own hype. And most of the time, when he leapt from things because cats are not the sort of creatures to simply slide off or crawl off something without style and élan, he made it. All but once, did he make it.

The set the scene for you, I was, at the time unmarried, and varied my time between watching TV, throwing empty bottles at a nice oil painting my dead grandmother crafted, and sleeping. The cat, Sakurajima, was twitching its tail, watching the sun through what of the window was visible through the duct tape. It decided to make a simple, no more than five foot leap, from the front sill, to the armrest of the couch, where I was laying, attempting to enjoy that episode of Sanford and Son where they visit The Gong Show. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Sakurajima jump, and perhaps it was the air, a slippery spot, or simple miscalculation, but Sakurajima missed the arm of the couch.

It was a train wreck.

The entire back half of him twisted in mid-air and it started screeching, flailing its front paws like it was doing the wave, and bobbing its head. He landed split-legged on his butt and sort of spun sideways to stagger up. The whole thing took five seconds, which was actually pretty long. Naturally, Sakurajima once back on its legs, took to looking calmly forward as if it meant to look like it botched the f—k out of a Shining Wizard. There was no visible sign that the cat would even, if you could reason with it, believe you if you told it you had just seen it flap its arms and squawk in mid-air like a furry projectile.

It never happened again, and several times after, Sakurajima would only leap from the front window to the armrest of the couch if I was watching, to prove that it could do it if it wanted to.

If you’re curious the cat later died when a pair of small girls took turns trying to play catch with him and he landed on a fence post. They were nice about it though, and at least apologized. I’m lying. It was old age.

Also, I could be misunderstanding microplanes (after only like ten posts saying otherwise) – I am thinking not of those little spiky things (which I don’t find of any use either for zest OR for romano) but of the very, very fine graters, like tiny little regular cheese graters. The spiky ones are like…just rubbish.