If I can't find anything like my keys, a pack of smokes, the lighter, my shirt, the coffee table, a four cylinder engine....it's usually under the cat.
Last Tuesday I'm sitting on the couch watching 24, the only show I have to see every tuesday, I MEAN THE ONLY GODDAMN SHOW I WATCH FAITHFULLY. And it goes something like this. "Jack we have to find the guy that's doing that stuff that we don't want to happen and if we can only get that thing to stop that guy we'll be ok. There's only one person in the whole wide wide world of sports that can help us right now....and his name is.....*click* whirrr *click-click* [sound of video tape starting up] "MERRY CHRISTMAS MOVIE HOUSE! MERRY CHRISTMAS SAVINGS AND LOAN!...MERRY CHRISTMAS MR POTTER YOU OLD SOT!!!!" "What tha fu......? MICKI! GET THE HELL OFF THE REMOTE!" [SOUND OF CAT WHISTLING THROUGH THE AIR]
Apparently, my cat thinks she's a paramecium and she must absorb everything by laying on it. If I have nothing in my house, I mean not one shazboting thing except one shirt laying on the floor, I'll always know where the cat is. "I must lay on something. I must HIDE it from him. I MUST spread myself on anything in my reach. I mus... uh oh what's he pissed off for now? Time to inspect under the bed."
I need to find a woman. Badly. I need a bad woman...badly.
Speaking of 24, whats with Jacks daughter? Something's always happening to her right when he's busy.
The only thing that hasn't happened to her yet is to get hit with a falling satellite.
*ring ring* "Jack Bower" "Dad I'm at the burger King and they're all out of napkins. What'm I gonna do?" "Sweety I cant talk right now. I'm right in the middle of defusing a fourteen kiloton nuclear bomb. I'll have to call you back." FWABAMMM! Russian satellite falls on Burger King. Then a cougar, a shark with lasers, a mexican bandito and Matt Dillons' little brother wander into the rubble and hold her for ransom. Ack! Gott in Himmel!