Monday, October 8, 2012

Cats and Clothes

I finally moved out of the suburbs, which, while hopefully a good thing, requires actually moving out of the suburbs. Moving is like the movie John Carter, in that they're both the worst thing ever. As such, I packed almost nothing - nothing decorative, no posters, no keepsakes, nothing sentimental, which is unlike me - it was essentially just a mattress, lots of clothes, and a box of DVD's. The move went very smoothly, but afterwards my entire bedroom was filled with boxes. This was annoying for several reasons:

1) I had to unpack everything.
2) I needed to unpack everything.
3) I don't know the spell from Fantasia that makes inanimate objects sort themselves.
4) I don't know the spell from Harry Potter that makes your room clean itself.
5) I didn't want to unpack everything.

As it turns out, for someone who doesn't care about clothes at all, I have a lot of clothes. I deliberately dress in a way that doesn't say anything about me, all non-descript and muted; my goal with the way I dress is not be noticed by anyone ever. But somewhere along the line I apparently accumulated a lot of muted clothes. I started emptying out all the bags, tossing clothes into sorted piles as best as I could. "Shorts, pants, ugly shirts, ok shirts, those shirts that you really like..." I started by hanging things first. Looking at all my winter things hanging in the closet, I was a little depressed by the color scheme; black, grey, forest green, navy blue, maroon. I dress like I'm the human version of the Zoloft blob.* I started throwing shirts onto the bed, hitting one of the cats, who scurried out from under them.**

*If, y'know, the Zoloft blob became human for a day after making a magical wish to a genie or on a star, or a deal with the devil or Ursula, or found a Zoltar machine. I'm still working on the pitch, okay?  But Zoloft and I think it's going to be both a box office hit and a great victory for product placement.

**One of the first things I noticed about these cats is that they love to jump up onto my bed with me. For a split second, I thought, "Oh no, what if someone is in bed with me and they're allergic to cats?", but then I laughed out loud, remembering, "nobody's going to be in bed with me!" and then cackled wildly before descending into silence.

Oh, did I mention I have cats now? My roommate has two cats, Buster and Lucille, so I guess now I have two cats, though I think of myself as a step-parent if anything. As a dog person, this has been odd. I don't really have a problem with cats, but cats hate me. I don't know if I smell like dog or what, but they greatly dislike me. I once went to my friend Andrew's house, and upon entering saw his cat, smiled real big and said "hiiiii!" in a high singsongy voice. The cat responded by hissing loudly and viciously. Andrew stood dumbfounded. "In eight years he's never done that to anyone", he said. Well, that was before he got a little of the old Alex charm! Am I right, people?

I am still unemployed, but I attended a job fair last weekend and hopefully some of that Alex charm worked on some potential employers.

Alex, smiling brightly: Hi, my name is Alex, I just graduated-
Employer: *HISS*
Alex: Oh, um - yes well, anyway, I majored in Communications-
Employer licks his hand while staring bitchily at Alex.
Alex: So, I have a copy of my resume...
Alex begins to hand paper, but employer scratches his hand, drawing blood.
Alex: Ow! Ow, ow, okay, I'll leave now, Jesus Christ...

Hopefully more of them were dogs than cats. But these cats have been pretty cool with me, perhaps because they've figured out I'm living here and therefore should not be messed with. See, I have no problem bopping them on the head (in the style of Little Bunny Foo Foo) if they give me trouble. I sat petting Buster on the couch for maybe ten whole minutes when he suddenly bit me. Without a second's hesitation I grabbed the spray water bottle and immediately sprayed him in the face. He stared at me, shocked. "I'm not having that for a second, got it?"

I apparently think I can teach cats to be nice more often than I realize. Last weekend, I was petting my friend Michelle's cat for a while, getting along fine, when she bit me. I grabbed a small pillow and bopped her on the head (sorry, Michelle). She hissed at me, and I bopped her again.* "Why?!" my friend Cary asked. "Because I was letting her know if she thought I was scared of her, she had another thing coming. You wanna hiss at me? Guess what, I'm not scared of you for a second!" "She's a cat! She doesn't understand that!" "All I'm saying is, if she wants to challenge me she should know that she's gonna lose. It's not smart to start a fight with a bigger animal! She should know that!"

*It's worth noting that unlike my new cat roommates, this cat is a total bitch. Like, my cats are mostly nice, okay - this cat has always been a total asshole.

Maybe how that's I should've dealt with that employer. Next time, I'll go in with a plan.

Alex, smiling brightly: Hi, my name is Alex, I just graduated-
Employer: *HISS*
Alex pulls spray bottle and sprays several times.
Employer HISSES loudly.
Alex: BAD! Okay, bad! Now here's my resume...
Alex begins to hand paper, but employer bites Alex's hand.
Alex: NO! Take the resume-
Alex pulls out a pillow and WOMPS employer on the head.
Employer scurries away.

I may not get a job, but at least they learned they can't mess with me.

What's that? I still have to pay rent? Oh.

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