This blog is supposed to be about fun. Fun and cats. But this is important.
The interwebz are fun. It’s been quite the journey for me to come from playing Oregon Trail on an Apple II to being able to carry around a 5lb. machine with the ability to share my words with the world, connect with people, learn about new things, have a virtually endless supply of information, etc. I remember when we first got AOL and suffered through the dial-up modem sounds. I had a pager when I was a teenager, as by that time they were “cool” and not just for drug dealers. I got a cell phone when I was 18. I remember when texting started. Now I can do anything on my cell phone that I can do on my computer. I watched this all transform and evolve. And this is all in the matter of my relatively short lifetime.
Despite the fact that we all (well, not all of us) willingly put out TONS of personal information for all to see, through blogs, Facebook, Twitter, etc., things that are private deserve to be kept private.
I introduce you to CISPA:
H.R. 3523, the Cyber Intelligence sharing and Protection Act of 2011, along with a handful of other bills currently circulating congress, all seek to give the government the power to force ISPs and other information aggregator companies to share ALL of your personal information, internet usage, and other data with ANY government agency or PRIVATE ENTITY [read: corporation] who requests it. The only requirement is that it be done in the name of “Cybersecurity,” which is never well-defined.
The important part of this bill is that it’s entirely vague. It gives the government power to pretty much to whatever they want. Keep in mind, too, that this bill is written by a group of (mostly) older people with less understanding of technology. I’m not saying that everyone over the age of 50 is a moron when it comes to keeping up. But how many IT guys are senators? These are career politicians.
Fear shouldn’t paralyze us so much that we allow our freedoms to be raped. I read 1984 when I was younger. I think I was probably too young to really understand the implications of it, but I do now. I am, for the most part, a law abiding citizen (I say most part because I think I break a few driving). I don’t have anything to hide. But that doesn’t mean that my email and my search history should be readily tapped into with a vague semblance of cause. That sounds DANGEROUSLY close to “thoughtcrime” to me.
Hold onto your freedoms. We’ve earned them.
I don’t know if you crazy kids are into the instagram these days, but I sure am. I keep my “celebrity” following to a minimum, as I really would prefer to see pictures of my own friends (I make exceptions for Justin Timberlake and 2Chainz) but I do follow a few “famous” cat accounts.
Grumpy Cat (she’s trademarked so I’ll just link to her webpage here)
Lil Bub makes me squeal with glee. SO FREAKING CUTE. And it was just announced yesterday that Bub is the focus of a new documentary that’s just been accepted to the Tribeca Film Festival. I really don’t care what it’s about, as long as there’s Bub in there, I’m happy. I was excited to learn that Lil Bub has quite fashionable gear for sale at reasonable prices as well, so I bought a tank top and a calendar. This made my day. PLUS…part of the proceeds go to charitable animal stuff and the rest goes to (QUITE SMARTLY) Bub’s food fund. The humans for these cats sure know how to grab on to their 15 minutes of fame. Shit, I’ve been reaching for mine for almost a year now doing this blog expecting to get discovered.
Unfortunately, as adorably unique as my kitties are, and no matter how much I know I could EASILY pick my boys out of a lineup of seemingly identical ones, they do not have funny fur colors that make them look like they have eyebrows or an eternally sticking out tongue. No, mine are just full of personality, the kind of bratty personality that kind of shows up in pictures and refuses to move an inch for video. I don’t even bother trying to catch these little imps in action anymore, they have a sixth sense for knowing when the camera’s rolling and stop doing anything remotely interesting immediately. DAMMIT, CATS. DO SOMETHING TO EARN YOUR KEEP.
I brought work home tonight. This isn’t my favorite after-work activity, but I was determined to push through and get ‘er done, if you will.
It should come as no surprise that this was not to Taco’s liking, because, after all, WORK means NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO MEEEEEEEEE!
I don’t know what kind of work you, dear reader, do, but mine involves being creative and thinking and concentrating. Not always the fun kind of creative, like blogging or photoshopping pictures of kitties, the kind that you’re glad that you get paid for. The kind of work that is really quite impossible when you have a cat sitting next to you HOWLING AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS. God forbid I make the mistake of looking over and making EYE CONTACT with him, as that is a direct invitation to jump on my lap (while continuing to howl at the top of his lungs) and step all over it, which sucks doubly because I maaaay have overdone it just a touch at the gym yesterday and my legs are currently unusable and untouchable (but I so oddly want a massage, go figure).
I managed to work through during the howl breaks and somehow get it done. Poor Taco couldn’t even get TOO excited, because immediately after finishing my dearly beloved mother called, hindering the speed in which his little mouth was fed. Fortunately for him, my dearly beloved mother is also becoming quite the technologically advanced lady and suggested I put her on speaker phone. So proud of your iPhone using, Mamacita! Props on the texting, particularly Emoji.
My workplace is very dog-friendly and I realize that is much more sensible than cat-friendly…after all, I’ve never actually met anyone allergic to dogs (although I’m sure they’re out there) but many allergic to cats and dogs are really much better with the vast population than cats…but I do wish sometimes I could work AT work with a kitty on my lap. Just one that’s not meowing. While I am the resident crazy cat lady there, I’m most definitely not the only one. Many would appreciate kitteh luv. Oh, but the chaos that would ensue if I tried to haul these freaks in my office. Sigh.
Speaking of cat-friendly workplaces, if you like lolcats and you haven’t seen LOLWORK on Bravo yet, you totally should. It’s highly amusing. I love the crazy cat lady gay guy whose sample of quotes includes “People tell me my cat is like a dog and I tell them to shut up.” It’s not the most amazing show ever but it’ll give you a giggle. They don’t get to bring their cats into work but there IS a homemade cheezburger cat mascot costume! I’ll leave you with THAT thought. Good night.
There is nothing that I do better than completely waste my time. Well, except for being a crazy cat lady, of course.
So when I discovered #catwang, it only made sense for it to become my new obsession.
Cats and randomness, my two favorite things. Nothing makes me laugh more, which explains the success of i can haz cheeseburger, I’m sure.
There are so many chores I’m not getting done because I’m too busy playing with this. Who thought of this? I want to shake their hand. I feel we are kindred spirits.
Of course, this is all easily accomplished through photoshop, but being that I hail from the age of convenience, the handheld-do-it-anywhere option is SO appealing.
In conclusion, if you have an iPhone, I urge you to download #catwang. It’s free, although you can buy add-ons (which I did — SHARK TEETH!) This is not a paid advertisement (I wish! Pay me, #catwang people!). It’s just too much fun for me not to pass on. You may already know about this. In my advanced age, it takes me a bit longer to glom on to what the kids are into these days.
Super Troopers is one of my all-time favorite movies. As hard as this is to believe, one of my favorite scenes is cat-related. And involves Jim Gaffigan. I love him. even though he loves bacon. Read on.
Mac: All right, how about “Cat Game?”
Foster: Cat Game? What’s the record?
Mac: Thorny did six, but I think you can do ten.
Foster: Ten? Starting right ‘meow?’
[Mac laughs – they walk up to the car, and Foster taps on the driver side]
Larry Johnson: Sorry about the…
Foster: All right meow. (1) Hand over your license and registration.
[the man hands him his license]
Foster: Your registration? Hurry up meow. (2)
[Mac ticks off two fingers]
Larry Johnson: Sorry.
[the man laughs a little]
Foster: Is there something funny here boy?
Larry Johnson: Oh, no.
Foster: Then why you laughing, Mister… Larry Johnson?
Foster: All right meow, (3) where were we?
Larry Johnson: Excuse me, are you saying meow?
Foster: Am I saying meow?
[Mac puts his hands up for the fourth one, but makes an “eehhh” facial expression, as he is considering the last one]
Larry Johnson: I thought…
Foster: Don’t think boy. Meow, (4) do you know how fast you were going?
Foster: Meow. (5) What is so damn funny?
Larry Johnson: I could have sworn you said meow.
Foster: Do I look like a cat to you, boy? Am I jumpin’ around all nimbly bimbly from tree to tree?
[Mac is gut-busting laughing]
Foster: Am I drinking milk from a saucer?
Foster: Do you see me eating mice?
Foster: [Mac and the man are laughing their heads off now] You stop laughing right meow! (6)
Larry Johnson: [the man stops and swallows hard] Yes sir.
Foster: Meow, (7) I’m gonna have to give you a ticket on this one. No buts meow. (8) It’s the law.
[rips off the ticket and hands it to the man]
Foster: Not so funny meow, (9) is it?
Foster: [Foster gets up to leave, but Mac shakes his hands at him, indicating only nine meows] Meow! (10)
I am attempting a blog challenge (please click here to learn more and read her blog, it’s awesome) from my friend Tabi, who has been doing this much longer than me and has a lovely blog about her human children and being a mom. She actually makes it sound fun! Obviously our blogs have tons in common, with me writing about my dedication to my own children. Except I doubt that “stay-at-home-kitty-mommy” would fly as a full-time job. There’s a lot of cleaning involved with my furballs but they sleep most of the day.
Anyway, to tie these things both together in a super clever and maaaaaybe WAY out there way, I am doing “what’s the word june” day #1 in style.
In honor of Foster’s “meow” #10:
Yeah, that’s right. I just did that. Booyah!
I admit it. I decorate with cat. I don’t mean to. A leftover halloween decoration here, a funny kitty card there…it just happens.
Standard kitty calendar. Ok. Moving on.
One of my shelves. Yes, I know you’re probably looking at the FABULOUS captain’s hat first, but focus. Weird grinning cat my mom gave me, a black cat from halloween my mother also gave me, and a Toy Robot cat my friend and fellow crazy cat lady Yvonne gave me.
Next up. My bulletin board. Here we have a funny cat postcard. Next to that, a picture of Fatty and Little, and then a picture of my dearly beloved Jager who is no longer with us. I don’t have Taco and Moosh pics up, I see them enough. Look closely and you’ll see some George Michael buttons. And a Rays schedule. Yay Rays!
A view from the outside. I have thoughtfully placed arrows next to the cats. My lone lolcat is very reflective of my job, i.e. proofreading.
And finally, the piece de resistance. My crazy cat lady. Life imitates art.
I’m pretty sure that not a single one of my cats has ever come out of their mother’s womb, been named something, and kept that name throughout their entire life.
Furthermore, once a cat name IS officially chosen and is permanent enough to be the one on file at he vet’s (although I have one that goes under a different name and one we had to change at the vet, read on), it is very rare that when talking to the cat, the cat is actually referred to as that particular name.
Shadow –> Baby
Ernie –> Chaos –> Fatty a.k.a. “Big Guy” at the vet, my mother refuses to let his official vet name be Fatty. In fact, she refuses to even call him Fatty.
Original name forgotten –> Mikey –> Little
Gus –> Jager
Oz –> Porkchop –> Moosh Moosh
Fernando –> Taco
Now, all of these names are used here and there, but most of the time either generic baby-talk names are instead or variations of the name. My favorites include Boo Bear, Boo Boo, Babycakes, Kittania, Snuggleface, Poopbutt, Bunny, Stinkers, Stinko, Fatboy or STOP IT NOW.
Moosh Moosh, on any given day, could be Moosh Mash, MooshyMooshyMooshy, Mooshito, Mooshcakes, Mooshface, Skooshers, Skooshy, or MoshiMoshi. When we got him, we really thought he was a good Porkchop until he smooshed our faces so much that Moosh Moosh just stuck.
Fatty? Well, that’s easy. Fat Fatty McFatterson, FattyCakes, Fatty Lumpkins, Fattilicious, Fatbaby.
Jager — Jagger, Woogie, Jagermeister or Cougar.
Taco, by far, has the most, I guess it’s just the easiest to mess around with — Taquito, Yablito, Tikki-Taco, Tablo, Cobblers, Jocko, Yacko, Taquerita, Toblerone, Yablo, Chimichanga, Blobblo or Taco-san.
And yes, I do speak to my cats in baby talk. Wanna make something of it?
I like to justify things. This is how I make myself feel better about decisions. I feel that my morals are fairly centered, so these decisions aren’t really earth-shattering.
I like to fuck with my cats. If you’ve ever put scotch tape on the bottoms of your cats’ paws and watch them run around (don’t lie, everyone I know well enough to admit this to me has done it), you’ll know what I mean. Look, I’m a vegan. I’m all for animal rights. I would NEVER do anything to harm an animal. But I’m not totally against using them for amusement here and there.
My justification? I feed them. I love them. I give them a home. I scoop their shit out of a box. No one disposes of MY waste like that. So every once in awhile, they get to dance for their dinner.
Exhibit A:Props in photos. They look miserable. But it’s a TINY moment of their lives and cats can’t recognize themselves in mirrors or in pictures so they don’t know to be embarrassed. That’s a scientific fact. At least the part about the not recognizing themselves. Lack of embarrassment is my own correlation.
Exhibit C: I have no photo proof of this, but I can exact hours of entertainment throwing stuff around for them to catch. Sometimes pretending to throw them, that always throws Taco for a loop. Always good for a laugh. This one is EXTRA justifiable, because as Jackson Galaxy says, you NEED to play with your cats for them to be happy.
PETA would probably have a shitfit about this, since they refuse to even call them “pets” — they’re “companions” — but I’m a good crazy cat lady and if I sometimes want to put a piece of harmless tape on my cat and watch him run like he’s on hot coals, I will, dammit.