Catmandu and other Cat Puns

There are a lot of cats here in my little city. Feral cats. I was going to say that there are cats everywhere, I mean EVERYWHERE, but that kind of hyperbole  . . . one could be lead to believe that I as I type this, I have a feral cat in my pants. Which I don't right now.

There are many feral cats here. In the city, I mean. Not my pants. More than the average amount of obviously feral cats for a small city. This winter there was a gang of them trolling near our block. I saw them appear through a crevasse in a giant snowbank, seven of them, in single file. As I watched from my car I opined, "What the fuck is this?" They followed the leader right through a path in the snowbank across the street. Filthy, bedraggled, feral, cats.

Remember the Disney movie "The Aristocats?" These cats would've showed up, beat, murdered, and intimidated the Aristocats out of their own territory, moved in, and set up shop selling drugs. Coke and heroin mostly, with a healthy side business in "the 'Nip."

They are dirty, disheveled, disdainful looking animals, But they're still cats so when I see them a little part pf me still goes "Awwwww. So cute!"

It can't be a positive sign of wellbeing for the city."Roving gangs of murderous drug dealing cats," doesn't exactly say "cosmopolitan" right?  You never talk to people who go on and on about how they, "visited Madrid and it was sooo amaaaazing. The Royal Palace was beautiful. And all those feral cats! Breathtaking."

That ends this presentation of, "The Wonders of Everett." Tune in next week for, "What's up with the lack of trashcans?"

-------------------------------

Just want to take a moment here to mention Movember. I participated last year, and I wanted to this year, but I just couldn't come up with a good idea for the plate. Haven't mentioned it before because the guilt. Oy, the guilt.

What I will do in this space is push the hell out of the page all the Dads over at Dadcentric, as well as Dad 2.0, Man Of The House, NYC Dads Group, and Dadlabs... ... have ready for your donations.

Movember. Grow a mustache, fight Cancer.

The F**king Problem With Cats Is . . .

Cats.  The cats are a fucking problem.  More than two cats--we have three--and you might as well resign yourself to being an old cat lady.

Here’s the thing about the cats: 

You know those days when no one seems to care?  When your kids got up even earlier than usual?  When your daughter is repeating, “Daddy, how about this song?  How about this song, daddy?  Daddy how about this song?  Ad infinitum.

And the song in question is the midi version of “This Old Man” and it’s emanating from a one-cent microchip embedded in a 25 dollar toy and no matter how many times you smile and say, “yes honey, that song is great.  What a beautiful song.  That song is sooo totally amazing sweetheart.”  It doesn’t matter because she’s just not sure that you get exactly how amazing this piece of shit midi version of This Old Man is, so how about we play it again?  And again.  And again.  And your son is trying as hard as he can to open up a drawer in the changing table and then close it with just enough violence and force to squash his own fingers to smithereens.  And your wife is not home but if she were she’d have just gotten home from work so she’d be facebooking or something and who can blame her because she deserves some time to unwind after work. 

So you go upstairs to pee, and while you’re up there, you see all three cats wound together in an inviting clump on the bed.  So you slip into the bedroom, just for a minute, so that you can bury your face into their musty, musky, dusty fur.  Because they’re really your best friends in the world.  And you talk to them as such.

“You guys are truly my best friends.  The dog?  Fuck the dog.  The dog tries hard, but lets be honest here, she’s a complete moron.  You guys are really my true friends. My go-to team of loving, understanding . . hey.  What No!  Don’t puke on the fucking comforter!  Goddammit!"

And that is the problem with cats. 

------------------------------------------------------

Not to leave you on a down note, my lovely and talented daughter told me this story today:

"The prince has the babies.  And she flies up in the sky with the babies and then they get in the car and they go to the doctor’s.  And then they get there and the doctor sees them to make sure they are alright.  And the doctor says the are alright so the prince, she takes them into the car and they all go home and watch Elmo."

My favorite part of that story is the lack of recognition of traditional gender roles.  Why?  Because I’m a wee bit of an ivory tower douche’.   

Eh.  Know thyself.  And shit.

Blogging during nap-time,

Homemaker Man

Pet Anecdote Alert

There is alot of work to be done around the house right now, and we're doing it ourselves because we are conducting an experiment concerning the exact level of incompetance a home can take before it collapses or spontaneously combusts.

So I'm working the other night and the case for my drill is open behind me and I happen to turn and see the dog (1 dog 3 cats at home) snuffling madly inside my drill case. I figure out why she is snuffling madly which leads me to yell the following:

"There are two things I do not need right now: I do not need anyone (cats) puking in my drill case and I do not need the dog to eat it. "

On the bright side, she did help with clean up. So actually I guess did need her to eat it. Gooood Dog. Love having pets.


Homizzeh Mizzeh