It's been a pretty uneventful week, all around.  Amber slowly transitioned herself into work again.  Studies show 4-day weekends bring an average-intelligence adult's mental state down to that of a common jar of mayonnaise.  That's a lie.  But if that statement were true, Amber was living proof just around 5pm on Monday.  Once she fully descended back into the dark pit of Work Life, I met her with tea and jam.

We attempt something bold this week, something that defies all laws of nature: we tried to toilet-train the cats.  We have something called CitiKitty, which is a toilet seat-shaped plastic Frisbee with concentric rings that snap together.  The idea is you fill the thing with litter, place between the bowl and rim, and say to the cats: Hey, your beloved box of comfort has been removed, and in it's place is a much smaller, much shallower, and much higher up teacup of a receptacle.  Figure it out.

At first it didn't work for the boys, as they decided to hold it in instead of go on the floor; in their eyes, the only two options, apparently.  So we moved the thing to the floor in hopes of their adapting to the new box first, and the new location after that.  It worked, except we have two cats who are somewhat fully grown, and the CitiKitty can't seem to hold more than one gift at a time; once something has been deposited, the location for the next necessary release is the floor.  And even what is left in the CitiKitty isn't covered up like usual, because there isn't much litter in the thing.  So we were quickly left with messes and very, very strong odors (which may or may not have been aided by their pepperoni treats; regardless, our boys provide deadly deposits).

Between those two issues - especially the odors, and the potential repercussions for the poor souls who live above us - we abandoned the CitiKitty.  For now.  It should be mentioned that Amber, in her excitement for the endless hours of enjoyment of a toilet-trained cat, actually purchased the CitiKitty before we adopted the boys.  A week or so before, when we had decided to spend that following weekend taking home two kitties, she was type-typin' away on the interweb, selecting an appropriate shipping method for the plastic feline crapper.  It goes without saying that she is disappointed in the situation.  And understandably so.  We could have made a killing charging $5 a pop to see The Amazin', Aimin' Kitty Krappers.

The Super Rad Item of the week is that I've finally been biking to work.  When I got my bike back from the shop, I had been in the throws of my Avian bird SARS, and the subsequent week was marked with a constant debilitating dry cough, which still lingers today.  But on Tuesday, I threw caution to the bitter cold wind and rode my overweight, fruity helmet-wearing ass from Brooklyn Heights up to DUMBO: one whole mile!  But it's another mile back and repeated three days out of the week, so my Giant Sequoia Thighs are back to their 1997 state: 100% pure steel.  And just like in 1997, after a ride, I wail and gasp like an emphysema patient shot out of an airlock.  I deserve medals.


Reviews
Books
Things I've Learned From Women Who've Dumped Me:
Eric: "Great for honest, decent guys, and even for the rest of us."

Games
Professor Layton and the Curious Village:
Eric: "One of - if not the - best puzzle games I've ever played, and beautiful graphics and animation play out like a movie."