Cat Romance and Booze

There have been a couple young cats prowling around our neighborhood lately, and up until today I’d only seen them from a distance. One is mostly white with brown patches of fur, the other one is a solid gray. They appear to be pals because up until today I'd always seen them together. This morning before work as I was enjoying some nicotine-filled morning air on the back deck, the little gray cat decided to join me. She probably wanted a cigarette too, but she’ll have to buy her own because those things are too expensive to share with just any cat who wants one.

She seemed like a very pleasant cat, as cats go. I’ve never been a fan of the species myself, but since she was willing to be petted and scratched without trying to claw my eyes out I decided she was alright. In fact, I was taken enough with her that I decided to call her Gloria. I don’t know for sure if the cat is a he or a she, but the other white and brown cat has a decidedly masculine look about him, while this one is smaller, has a sassy little purple collar, and looks kind of girly. I suppose Gloria might be an effeminate male cat with a fondness for fashion and other male cats, but for the sake of my delicate constitution I’m going to assume it’s a female. I can’t bear to think that there might be homosexual cats roaming my wholesome neighborhood. Next thing you know, they’ll be petitioning the government to get married and then we'll all die in the fiery pits of hell.

Anyway, the cat and I spent a few short moments together and then I went inside to get ready for work. Gloria probably went to find the white and brown cat to tell him to keep his mouth shut about their clandestine love affair, because Hillsboro Village is not yet ready for their kind of hot man-on-man action.

I fear that my future interactions with Gloria will have to be seriously limited, because within a couple minutes of our encounter I was sneezing and wheezing, and my eyes felt like they were on fire. By the time I got to work, the sneezing had stopped, but my eyes were still red and swollen. My co-workers took one look at my bloodshot eyes and asked me what was wrong. I said, “I guess I should have stopped at three shots of tequila with my cereal this morning.”

This didn't faze them in the slightest, because they just collectively shrugged and said, "Yeah, probably." It was like this was par for the course; that on any given day they expected me to flounce into the office wearing go-go boots and pasties, dragging a keg of beer behind me to enjoy with my lunch.

I'm really going to have to be more careful about my reputation.

Doing My Part To Ruin Civilization

I discovered a website that is listing the 10,000 reasons why civilization is doomed. The list has kind of devolved into a free-for-all for dumbasses who have too much time on their hands, but if you look you can still find a smattering of intelligence and/or humor. And then, in a category all its own, there's reason #62: www.ratemypoo.com. I saw that and laughed. I thought it was a joke, and god help me, it almost sounded cute, probably because I find the word "poo" hysterical on a level I cannot understand, much less explain. Anyway, I was certain it was a prank, because surely no website could be about that. Obviously I am a gullible fool who has not accepted the depths of sick to which people will sink, so I clicked on the link.

I'm here to tell you, it's exactly what it says it is.

There's a lot that's wrong in the world. Osama bin Laden is a gigantic horny terrorist asshole who is still traipsing around Afghanistan trying to figure out how to abduct Whitney Houston (and I have to say that there's a tiny part of me that hopes he manages to do it so that he is forced to live out the rest of his days listening to her warble about how the children are our future), innocent people are murdered, children are abused, helpless animals are mistreated... the list goes on. Those things are terrible and I don't mean to trivialize them, but is there anything more indicative of the degeneration of our society than the fact that people are out there posting pictures on the internet of their bumnuts and people like me are stupid enough to look at them?

Well, That Explains It

It seems there is a hotline for people who are experiencing problems with arthritis and osteoporosis: 1-800-255-BONE.

I suppose that's why my recent phone sex encounters haven't been as lascivious as I'd hoped.

Bone density isn't nearly as sexy as it sounds.

A Double Super Buzz

Several years ago some friends introduced me to the spectacle that is Jesco White. He lives in the mountains of West Virginia where he channels Elvis, torments his wife regarding her egg-frying skills, dances on top of a doghouse, and generally passes time huffing lighter fluid.

Jesco was the subject of a student documentary, The Dancing Outlaw. An amateur filmmaker traveled the wilds of Appalachia in search of colorful characters. He hit the motherlode when he found Jesco, that's for goddamn sure.

The first time I saw The Dancing Outlaw, I was uncomfortable for the first few minutes. Clearly Jesco did not have the advantage of a privileged upbringing. He wasn't the most sophisticated or well-educated of men, and mocking someone for those reasons is a mighty shitty thing to do. Hell, laughing at anyone else's expense is a shitty thing to do. But as time went on, I couldn't hold in my laughter any longer. Partly because I'm a stone cold bitch, but mostly because it was abundantly clear that this guy (and his assorted family members) were perfectly content with the people they were. They knew they were different than a lot of other people, but by god they liked it that way and if you disagreed too vehemently they'd totally cut you. Their way of life was uncomplicated and straightforward, and if others wanted to poke fun, well let 'em. And for those reasons I was able to laugh my ass off without compunction.

I wish these people the best, and I genuinely hope they are happy. But I cannot stop myself from introducing y'all to the most spectacular redneck spectacle that ever was: Jesco White.

Jesco White

Why I Am Hazardous to Children

Following is a transcript of a conversation between me and a dear old college friend, E. E is now the very proud mother of two exceedingly rambunctious toddlers.

Sparkles Phone: [One ringy dingy... two ringy dingy]
Me: Hello?

E: What are you doing, you dumb slut?

Me: You are such a stupid whore. What the hell do you want?

E: Eh, nothing really. I just wanted to see how y'all were doing.

Me: Oh, we're fine. Hey, how was your nephew's wedding last weekend? Where was it... Missouri?

E: Yeah. It was nice to get away, and the wedding was really nice. But I missed my babies. It was cool to get drunk and pass out, though.

Me: You mean you don't do that when you're home? I know I do when I'm watching your kids.

E: Shut up. You don't ever watch my kids.

Me: True, but if I ever did, that's what I do. It's never too early to start teaching them that no one likes fools who can't hold their liquor.

E: I knew I should have made you their godmother. Anyway, I think Aunt C and Uncle B had their hands full when they stayed with the kids this weekend.

Me: [mumbling] Oh hell yeah they did.

E: What?

Me: Huh? I didn't say anything. Are you drunk?

E: Don't be talking smack about my chirren! So anyway, when we got home from Missouri I took one look at Aunt C and Uncle B and told them they looked like hell. They just stared at me and said they had to get home. I've never seen them leave the house so fast.

Me: [assorted grunting]

E: So, when are YOU going to come and watch my kids? I'm ready for another vacation, lady.

Me: I believe the 12th is open.

E: The 12th?

Me: Yeah, the 12th... of NEVER!!! HAHAHAHA!!!!!

E: You are such a dumb slut.

Me: I know!

E: But the babies love their Aunt Steena!

Me: Yeah, they love to spazz out and watch Aunt Steena have a psychotic break. Anyway, you know that whole maternal gene skipped me. I just can't hang with the toddler crowd.

E: You'd have fun!

Me: Doll, you know that if you left me with your children you'd come home and they'd be sitting in a room full of empty cans of cake frosting with Pixy Stix stuck up their noses, covered in Krylon from when I'd tried to get them to sleep by teaching them how to huff paint. And there would probably be porn on the tv.

E: Uh huh. Well, sure.

Me: And I'd be passed out naked on the sofa with a some empty bottles of MadDog laying by my head.

E: Well, naturally. How in the hell do you think I make it through every day?

My Senator Can Suck It

Several weeks ago I took some time to write an email to my illustrious senator, Mr. Dr. Bill Frist Esq MD Jr III or whatever the hell the dude's name is, urging him to drop the whole Marriage Amendment nonsense. It certainly isn't that I'm opposed to this sweeping leglisation, because as every good American is aware, allowing two people of the same sex to get hitched spells certain doom for the institution of marriage. I, for one, am keenly aware that the validity and sanctity of my own marriage is totally contingent upon whether or not two dudes in Nebraska legally commit to an exclusive relationship. But because there are other areas where Fristy could lend his legendary powers of cognition, I thought perhaps it might be appropriate to put this legislation on the back burner. Certainly there was an ill person armed with a video recorder who was anxiously awaiting a long-distance diagnosis.

I spent quite a bit of time crafting a compelling argument, outlining exactly why this whole Marriage Amendment folderol was a complete waste of legislative time, even though we all know that the very instant gays are allowed to say "I Do," America as we know it will degenerate into a nation of pig-fucking miscreants. Studies have shown that it's only a matter of time before previously upstanding American citizens start marrying livestock and raping goats. You cannot argue with science, people! Unless you're talking about evolution, in which case be my guest.

But anyway, I suggested, very calmly and without profanity (which was quite a feat for me, to be sure), that maybe there were bigger governmental fish to fry. I may have used the words "disastrous war in Iraq," "exploding deficit," "sad state of education," or "I beg you not to embarrass our state any more than you already have," but my memory is fuzzy. I was trying to dull the pain of the prospect of homosexual marriage and the pursuant demise of my own marital union with alcohol. Don't judge me! But the bottom line is that I was quite vehement about the ridiculous nature of a constitutional amendment defining marriage (because if we can't count on the government to tell two consenting adults who they can marry, who CAN we count on, people?!?) and I scooted it off to my very spiffy senator who has a lot of names.

Imagine my excitement the other day when I saw a letter addressed to me from Mr. Dr. Frist Esq Jr. III! I tore into the envelope, waiting to hear that he had heard my cries and was going to stop his relentless efforts to convince the rest of the nation that to Tennesseans, Hee Haw wasn't just a tv show, it's a way of life! Instead, the document proudly proclaimed Mr. Dr. Frist's intention to continue fighting for the Marriage Amendment.

Sigh.

I know that senators are busy, what with collecting all those bribes and all, but couldn't someone have taken the time to put my letter in the dirty pinko pile and just sent me something saying thanks for writing? If somebody is going to take the time to send me correspondence, can't they at least send something semi-appropriate, instead of vowing to continue doing precisely what I've asked them not to?

I'd like to kick Frist in the groin, but he's still my senator. He's supposed to represent me. I know that what I received was just some form letter sent by an overworked intern, but couldn't somebody at least pretend to care what I thought? Here was this letter trumpeting his intention to keep fighting to keep those dirty homos from marrying when I'd taken the time and used every persuasive trick I knew to urge him to drop this ridiculous issue. I was insulted. I didn't expect to change anyone's mind, but I did expect to have my opinion duly noted. What I got was the equivalent of a senatorial flipping of the bird. Thanks a lot, ass.

So yeah, it's official: Mr. Dr. Frist is a dick.