As scandalous as it sounds.


On the way to see The Hunger Games (fucking awesome btw) :

Typical mom-conversation about texting– “Honey, what does it mean when there’s a parenthesis with a ‘P’?

“…you mean a colon with a ‘P’? It’s a tongue sticking out.”

“I don’t see it.”


Typical dad-conversation about his ability to foretell success–

“See I told you guys–The Hunger Games, Twilight, The Uglies. I told you they were all gonna be hugely successful.”

“Wow, Dad, you’re right. You were great at foretelling the success of best-sellers.”

“No, seriously. When I would go to parties with adults and talk about the books, none of them even knew what I was talking about.”

“That’s because they were adults, they weren’t thirteen year-old girls.”

“That’s what I’m saying! Producers aren’t thirteen year-old girls either! That’s why they need me!”

…Very logical. A sixty year-old man is just the person to put producers in touch with the interests of thirteen year-old girls. It’s a wonder how they managed to catch on to those trends without him.


My mom tries to order pizza–

“They have eggplant with aquatic cheese!”

“No thank you.”

Once she hangs up.

“…I’m curious about what that aquatic cheese was. Were they milking sea cows?”

“Aquatic cheese?”

“Yeah, you said they had the eggplant with aquatic cheese.”

“I think it’s like the four cheeses, you know, parmesan, asiago…”

“Quatro Formaggi?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”






Dear George,

Last night we had another one of our “encounters”. A close encounter of the third kind, as far as I’m concerned. See what you were doing to me seemed more like preparation for deliverance to the mothership than any normal animal/terrestrial-being behavior.

Let me interject with a theory: All nighttime abductions/experiments attributed to aliens are in fact performed by cats.

Now like I’ve explained before, all your kneeding, hair-combing, sitting-on-my-chest behavior is highly unappreciated. But let’s address one singular move of yours that incites a special terror in my befuddled, half-asleep mind: when you purr fervently with your wet nose pressed behind my ear. This action of yours frightens me all the way back to 7th-grade science to retrieve the vocabulary needed to describe my fear: pinna.

Used in a sentence: Oh God, one chomp of George’s jaws and I’ll lose my pinna.

This fear is particularly unsettling as I hear how excited you are becoming with your purring and imagine all the other times such excitement has lead to “loving” cat bites.

Let us recall the Cat-Vampire incident of two nights ago.

photo copy So let me conclude with,


Or I shall have to report you to the  FBI and get Mulder and Scully on your ass.

Much love,


I could go for a run and get some exercise

…or I could sit on my ass and do nothing.

So many possibilities.

I’m not one of those people that says guys and girls can never be friends, but I do think that every once in a while there arises a moment of uncomfortable one-sided romance. At these times, my natural reaction is a genius ploy of blind panic and an attempt to correct this imbalance by being twice the amount of “normal friend” to their abnormal. In theory this means it all evens out. In practice it means I act completely absurd. How unusual…


Case Study #One:

The situation–

Saying goodbye, but for some reason he won’t leave and instead gazes deeply into my eyes.

My response–

Upon assessing the linger and entering my initial stage of panic, I punched him in the shoulder. (I’ve seen this done in movies to a very desirable hey-ole-buddy-ole-pal effect.) Following this up with a slightly off-timed and manically cheerful, “Well, see you around!” I then backed away slowly, avoiding eye contact.


Resembling to the advice I’ve been given for encounters with wild animals, this tactic seemed fairly successful. The arm punch was weird though.


Case Study #Two:

The situation–

Saying goodbye (hm this seems to be a dangerous time). Hug is strangely cheek-squeezy. Ie. I’ve never had my cheeks pressed so hard to someone else’s cheeks in my life. (This makes me suspicious.) Then pulling back, he cups his hands around my face and says, “Look at you. You are so beautiful.”

My response–

Feeling awkward, I scramble to prove that this is something normal friends do. Reasoning that if I can do it to him without being romantic, it will reverse-logic prove that we are totally chillin in an equally friend-like relationship, I take his face in my hands and say, “Look at you, you are so beautiful.”


This did not help the awkwardness of the situation.


Final results of the study:

Upon reflection, quickly extracting oneself from the situation seems to be the best technique. Out-weirding the weird did not go over so well.


Does anybody has further case studies or escape tactics to report? Science for the good of friendships everywhere…

Dear George,

It’s awfully sweet that you like to sleep with me. However, I have been feeling for some time now that we need to establish a few ground rules.

  1. I have this concept of personal space. Two very important personal bubbles of mine encompass my eyeballs. I’d appreciate if you didn’t try to swat at them with your claws, or walk on them. I know it’s all fun and games, but someone’s gonna get hurt.
  2. Also my throat. I don’t really get this kneading thing that cats do, but most of the time if I’m under a proper cover of blankets I just let you do your thing, even if it feels an awful lot like a breast exam. I don’t question your motives. But I’m gonna have to draw the line at my throat, where you’ve nearly drawn several lines of blood. No more throat massages please.
  3. When you try to comb my hair with your claws, I don’t like that. I especially don’t like being woken up in this fashion at 3am. Maybe you’re a gay hairdressing cat, that’s fine (although then why all the breast exams?), but you need to ask for volunteers, not just select unconscious victims.
  4. My face is not your head rest. It’s kind of cute, the way you like to lie cheek to cheek, but inevitably it becomes back of furry head to smothered mouth and nose. That’s just not the way I want to die.
  5. When you get really close to my face and purrr directly into my mouth, it weirds me out. I’m not used to other peoples’ sounds going into my mouth. It’s not natural, and it makes me feel slightly violated.

That’s about it, only five little things. Do you think you can manage? In times of doubt just remember, don’t do unto others what you would have done unto you. Ie. no head scratchies, face massages, chin tickling, etc. Then we can both sleep soundly.

Much love,


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