Why my cat couldn't care less about Brad Pitt

Well let's just say my cynical attempt to drive up blog traffic by throwing in random references to Angelina Jolie and sexuality like confetti at a wedding, wasn't entirely successful.

I'd say 14 page views does not make my blog the Huffington Post. Not even the East Tuftington Post. And if East Tufington isn't a small town in South Dakota it certainly should be.

Jennifer may have lost Brad to Angelina but she can take comfort in the fact she has had one more page view on my blog than her love rival. I just hope that wasn't me going into my blog to check the views.

Perhaps the world of Brad and Angelina drives magazine sales because it seems so exotic whereas in reality we mortals spend most days cruising Prosaic Street and staring morosely at red lights outside Taco Bell.

In saying that there's nothing exotic about the expression Brangelina that sounds like a make of dish washing powder and should only be used by the laziest journalists alive. The words "Brad" and "Angelina" really don't go together in the same neat way as say "Lindsay" and "jail."

In contrast my life is a tad less star studded. I thought I saw Brian Dennehy today until someone told me he was dead. I find no evidence of this on the Internet but it seems I had confused the actor with the guy who came to fix the telephones, anyhow.

And I have to confess I had a conversation today about cats' bottoms with a colleague whose feline is sticking his backside out of the litter box and spraying whatever delightful chamber she keeps it in.

It surprised me how knowledgeable I was on the subject. I went effortlessly into a spiel about the merits of covered cat boxes compared to rolling and automatic cat boxes and the unique qualities of cat crystals versus clumping litter.

I also came to a kind of Camp David accord with my wife today when we agreed to clean out the cat box on alternate days. Now the cat's up to 20 lbs and growing, skipping a day is no longer an option.

Skipping a reminder is still an option, it seems. Today was my cleaning out day but it seems there is an inverse relationship between enthusiasm to clean a cat box and the amount of pinot grigot one consumes.

Angelina eat your heart out and please try not to be too jealous about my life.