Meow

Caught parts of the god-awful Halle Berry Catwoman on cable. And since I couldn’t stand Berry’s pathetic attempts to be a sexy pussy, I decided to pop in Batman Returns and watch Michelle Pfeiffer’s brilliant Catwoman instead. And then because I am sometimes retarded enough to wonder about such things, I thought: If I die, would Pepe and Cleo invite their pusakal friends to rally around my lifeless body to bestow the breath of life? More importantly, what kind of Catwoman would I be if I’m fat? Would I be able to do cartwheels and leap and kick ass like Michelle Pfeiffer and Halle Berry? Can superhuman abilities transcend body mass? Would I look just as lovely in a catsuit and four-inch heels?

Hmmm. Maybe not.

I read somewhere that the Hindus and Buddhists believe that being reincarnated as a cat is a step towards achieving Nirvana. So maybe this “cats bringing you back to life” can also be a symbolic thing, like cats helping to make sure that you come back as, well, a cat.

So okay, let me amend my retarded fantasy. If I die and my cats and their friends can’t suck off a gazillion pounds (on top of the breath of life deal) so I’d look like Michelle Pfeiffer as Catwoman, then I’d rather go with the other thing, which is, me being reincarnated as a cat.

And I know just the kind of cat I’d be.

Yeah. "I don’t know about you Ms. Kitty but I feel so much yummier.”