A Turbo by any other name

I think I'm more fish than kitty. Sure, there are loads of ways in which I am catlike: I'm moody, often aloof, and all full of attitude. And let's not forget my uncanny likeness to Ms. Kitty herself, Halle Berry. Yeah, I'm that hot.

But there's a confidence factor that eludes me. My calico, Turbo, my muse and the inspiration behind this blog, is all full of sass and spark, piss and vinegar. Whereas myself, I can be all hissy and scratchy about some things, but all wishy washy and flaccid about others. Like Wal-Mart. This chain is just plain evil, but have I banned it from my shopping repertoire? No, my grocery dollar stretches too damn far! And what about caffeine? I've got a palsy-like tremor in my right hand, but am I willing to forgo "the buzz"? Mmmm, me thinks not, maybe tomorrow.

So instead of "Turbo," I think the name "Flounder" would be so much more fitting, and I'm not talkin' the horse-killin' kind from Animal House
or the cute, gutless one from The Little Mermaid
or even the ugly, eyes-all-messed-up real one from the sea.

According to the online edition of Merriam-Webster, flounder has a few different meanings:
1) a marine fish of either of two families (Pleuronectidae and Bothidae) that include important food fishes;
2) to struggle to move or obtain footing, thrash about wildly;
3) to proceed or act clumsily or ineffectually.

I think that about sums me up. I'm clumsy, I've been known to occasionally thrash about wildly (usually when I'm night-owling as a feline superhero--meow), but I must say, I've been neither a marine nor a fish (though back in the day, my hang overs rendered me about as attractive).

So what's my point? I haven't a clue, maybe it's that "ineffectually" coming through . . .