Hi friends!
Remember my
last post, when I exhausted the topic of "fly-type things" and my slaughtering of them? WEEELLLLLLLLL, guess what? I had the honor of discovering what these fly-type things are. This is what they look like:
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| Accurate Portrayal |
If you are stupid like me, you would simply have basked in the rays of winning a battle against evil nameless bugs and would have needed to wait until you got a tenting notice for your apartment to tell you that you did not win the battle against these mighty bugs. In fact, you lost. BIG TIME. Because those are fucking termites. And if you don't know about termites, apparently, they're bad and stuff. At least, that's the word on the street, and words on the street tend to be legit (example: "crack is whack"--well known words found on the street).
I stared at the notice for a good 10 minutes. Not totally sure how this was gonna work. I have my cat, Mimi, as I'm sure you all know since I mention her in every post. And the landlord was offering to put us up in a hotel that didn't allow animals (and, subsequently, happiness). So, Mimi and I packed our bags and drove south for the border (of LA county) to be with our BFF, Lairin Paris, in Redondo Beach.
Let's just say Mimi hates car rides about as much as I hate the
Twilight Series. However, Mimi's hatred manifests itself differently than mine:
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| Why don't you just write a paper deconstructing the subject matter to appease yourself, Mimi? |
As with all car rides, in which Mimi sits in the passenger seat, I try to calm her. I soothingly remind her that I love her and I won't let anything bad happen to her. In between shifting gears, I put my hand on her carrier and attempt to pet her through the plastic. I probably should be getting in a million car accidents when I drive with her, but miraculously I don't,
Ceiling Cat is obviously looking out for me.
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| Interior of car doesn't look this awesome. |
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At a certain point, I just give up with the comforting attempts. This was a long drive down to Redondo Beach. And in between the breaths of each useless cry emanating from Mimi's little mouth, echoing in my head, I realized I should never have children. I think a dog is as far as I can go on the sole responsibility-dependent spectrum. I know I'm young or whatever, BUT HOLY CRAP, THE STRESS AND THE ANGER THAT RISES FROM IT.
Because this was the longest car ride that Mimi has been on (since she's been with me), she decided to go slightly (and by "slightly" I mean "totally") ape shit. Rather than simply continue on with the pleading meows--each one a kitten dagger in my heart (worse than regular daggers)--Mimi decided that this was the appropriate moment to reenact a scene from the illustrious film,
Alien.
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| Cat Carrier= John Hurt's belly in film |
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| Reference for you n00bs out there. |
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Now, I'm not sure who showed her this film (or why she would be a fan of it) but she was reenacting the shit out of it. It was an homage of sorts, which successfully scared at least one year off my life span.
I had decided, prior to our exodus to Redondo Beach, that on my way back home I would take Mimi to the veterinarian-- just to terrorize the bejesus out of her (and also because she had some rash-type stuff going on). So, the plan was stay with Lairin for a few days, drive back up on Saturday, go to the vet, then return home to my termite-free apartment. It became abundantly clear while at Lairin's place that Mimi wasn't suffering from benign rashes, but from fleas, exacerbating the probs. And I know what those megalomaniacal assholes look like and I was not pleased to see one practicing its dance moves on Mimi. Unlike the termite debacle, I knew that I could not win this battle on my own. I didn't have a cathartic smashing of fleas like I did with the termites, at least in that situation, I felt like I showed them who was boss by punching them in the face.
Naturally, I trick Lairin into coming to the vet with me using my tricksy ways. I was prepared for Mimi's antics in the car ride and decided to not care, letting Lairin bear that burden:
We go to the vet definitely looking like a lesbian couple with their cat (see:
Zuzu and Sparks). This may not have been in our favor as we happened to sit next to a forty-ish-year-old man with an awesome dog. The man in question was not super attractive, but then he started to speak... with a Scottish accent. And all of a sudden, he was silver fox stud muffin. While talking to us about how his dog liked to lick feet, Lairin sent me this text:
But then he went away and we were able to focus on the issue at hand. The whole debacle turned into a vet bill bigger than how much I paid for Mimi in the first place. And I was informed that I needed to give her a special allergy, flea bath. I looked at Lairin with pleading eyes (my tricksy ways weapon of choice). And she had no way out, I had the sweet ride that would drive her home and I bribed her with food (sealed the deal).
Upon our return to my apartment (still smelling of noxious fumes), the cat bathing commenced:
So, en sum, that weekend was off. da. chain. It also happened to correspond with my first year anniversary with Mimi as my cat and she was seriously thinking about breaking it off, but then really thought about the consequences of that, so she's sticking with me, but only after we "had a talk." [She really just meowed at me and my eyes glazed over and I just said "mmhmm" a bunch of times--seemed to placate her].
Here's her looking surprisingly serene after the bath:
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| ...which scene from Alien should I reenact next? |
