The little bastard is no bigger than the palm of my hand--seriously, he's almost hamster-sized--and he walks the way a fat woman water-skis, all wobbly and lurching from side to side. But since I can stick him in a box whenever I get tired of him, this thing is infinitely better than a human baby.
Anyway, I always roll my eyes at these look-at-my-unremarkable-new-pet! threads, but since the collective I.Q. around this place has dropped so precipitously, I don't feel too bad about interrupting the parade of neverending "Defend your favorite mediocre film/actor/Roeper with barely-coherent aggression" threads. So here's a picture of a cat. It has shit dingleberries in its fur, but it understands Battle Royale and it hated Revenge of the Sith and Garden State, so it's already smarter than half of you.
