The world was supposed to end today. Once again I have been disappointed.

(Although technically speaking there is still time for the world to end today, but I think if there's to be a world-wide disaster it should happen at 12noon local time wherever you are.)

One of my odd little hobbies is to keep track of really weird-ass conspiracy theories, and one of the best places to do that is The Enterprise Mission. This guy is a complete and total kook, and I love the stuff he comes up with. He'll take some innocuous little fact and extrapolate all sorts of strange things from it.

Anyway, the world was supposed to end on November 7th. Three objects were scheduled to strike the earth: one in Siberia, one in central Manitoba (woo! Good thing Dave went on vacation!), and the third in the Atlantic off the coast of Northern Africa. An "inside source" informed them of this. And inside sources are always right, you know.

So after no hunks of something fell from the sky today I went back to the site to see what happened to them. After all, I went through all the trouble of making myself a tinfoil hat. Well, apparently these things aren't scheduled to fall until November 7, 2003. The "inside source" never gave a year, just a day. Makes perfect sense to me.

This is a person who takes The X-Files just a little too seriously. No, really. One of his reasons for believing the "inside source" was that The X-Files season premiere was the same day.

In the immortal words of Dave Barry, I am not making this up. Can you believe he makes money writing books about this stuff?

This is a cute little picture of Jaws which I found today. I have very few good pictures of Jaws. She's either not in a photo-taking mood (hiding someplace or zooming around) or she's asleep. And when I do manage to catch her in a nice pose, her all white fur reflects so much light that she's always washed out.

I was at the pet store the other day and I noticed that they had a sign up advertising "Cat Obedience Classes." This was a totally foreign idea to me so I asked about it. Apparently they haven't set up a date for the classes yet; they are just trying to gauge if there is enough interest to hold the classes.

The price will be $14.99 for three one-hour classes. The cats are only invited to the last two classes. The class agenda includes sit, stay, come, shake, roll over, and toilet-training.

I've pondered toilet-training Jaws. There would be lots of advantages. The first that springs to mind is that I wouldn't have to clean out a litter box. I also wouldn't have to spend money of that really super expensive gourmet kitty litter that Jaws insists on. I wouldn't have to clean out a litter box. My apartment wouldn't smell like kitty litter all the time. Oh, and did I mention that I wouldn't have to clean out a litter box?

But I could just imagine rushing around getting ready for work, and discovering that Jaws has locked herself in the bathroom. I would pound on the door, yelling, "Come on, I have to go! I'm late!"

And Jaws would say, "Mau!"

"Don't give me that," I would reply. "You had all morning to use the bathroom, and now I have to use it or I'll be late!"

"Mau. Mau."

"Oh yeah? Well, when was the last time you paid any rent, missy? I don't see you pulling out your checkbook at the end of the month."

"Mrrrrrrow."

"I don't care if you don't have any thumbs! There's lots of working joes out there with no thumbs, and they're doing just fine."

"Mau mau mau."

"Look, can we discuss this later? You have all day to be in there after I leave, and I need to use the bathroom now!"

"...mrrrrrrioaw."

And I would hear a thump and the toilet flushing, and the sink running, and the door would finally open and Jaws would come out. She would give me an icy glare.

"Thank you," I would say, and Jaws would give me one of her tail flicks and saunter down the stairs. She probably wouldn't speak to me for the rest of the day.

No. I don't think I could live like that.