I was "making" breakfast this morning by pouring cereal - Golden Grahams to be exact - into a bowl when I noticed a suspicious tagline on the box. The current box of Golden Grahams state that they are a "good source of calcium and vitamin D."

I thought this to be a little odd, so I checked the nutritional label to confirm my suspicions. Not only does a serving of the 'Grahams have a mere 25% of the RDA of each nutrient, but pretty much most of that is provided by the milk. So how exactly are Golden Grahams a "good source" of anything? Do they retain fluids better than other breakfast cereals? Is there some type of chemical reaction between graham ridges and lactic acid that I'm missing? If they were Rice Krispies, maybe I'd believe it.

So simply stated, Golden Grahams appear to be a good source of whatever is poured on them. I wonder if in countries where coffee is a more common cereal additive than milk they claim to be a great source of caffeine. Perhaps they could claim to be a good source of all vitamins and minerals if the preparation instructions just included crushing a few multi-vitamins over the top of them. That's a great idea... I need to go get on the horn with the marketing gurus at General Mills.

Our family has three feline members: Hebe, Jack, and Oliver. Being on a regimented diet with strict feeding times, they often let us know that they are hungry. They also often let us know that they are assholes.

The warm-up routine to their evening feeding, though still annoying, is bearable. It pretty much consists of constant meowing and running in front of your ankles as you walk around. Apparently, part of domesticated cat evolution taught them to bring down their master to their eye level so they can more vocally represent their hunger. They generally start this behavior about an hour before feeding time, maybe earlier if they hear the garage door, an event they associate with dinner time.

No, it is the morning in which they harness all of their powers of annoyance. Every morning, while we are still sleeping, they put on an impromptu performance in the art of dicketry. They each even have their own roles. Hebe alternates between running across the bed near the headboard and knocking items off of dressers with her paws. Jack scratches at the bed and chases Hebe around the room. But Oliver is the true sadist. He has two top-notch moves in his repertoire: meowing louder than a bullhorn and laying down on a body part (I'll let you guess which one) only to spring up with all of his weight directed at his paws.

Well, lucky us, because today he expanded his range. This morning, Oliver hopped up on the bed and I swear to God he barked. A complex wave of emotions swept over me... At first I was angry, but that quickly gave way to feelings of awe. After giving in to the terrorists' demands and feeding them, I mulled it over in the shower and I can say now that I am in a state of fear. I'm not sure I can survive in a world when those kinds of weapons are in the paws of those who are not afraid to use them.

I'm a pretty easygoing guy and not much gets under my skin. Cleaning up yesterday after a get-together the previous evening, I happened upon a few occurrences of one of my pet peeves: unfinished cans of soda. From a last innocent swig to most of the can, these wasted sips annoy me to no end.

Part of it is probably the way I drink; not only will I drain a soda can in record time, I'll absentmindedly check and recheck empty cans to ensure that I've swallowed every last drop. I've on several occasions been asked if I'd like another and had to explain that I was only checking to make sure that this one was exhausted. Yes, I'm sure that there's some form of OCD in there.

So when you take a can from my refrigerator, you are making twelve ounce commitment to finish the job. Maybe I should print up a tablet of concise legal documents and hang them with a refrigerator magnet, ready to be enacted at the first opening of a pop-top. That should go over well, right?