Honest Conversation Is Overrated
Actual Human Interactions Witnessed Or Overheard
In Twentieth And Twenty-First Century America
In Twentieth And Twenty-First Century America
Dead Dog Petting Zoo
In a discussion where I mentioned that my family had a dog when I was very young but my mother was allergic to it, I mentioned that I didn't know whether the dog died or was given away. I only knew that I was told it "went to live on a farm".
Comrade: "The dead dog farm?"
Me: "It's more of a dead dog petting zoo. All the dogs are really well behaved. There's, like, no barking at all. I know some people like to go apple picking at orchards in the fall, but my family always used to take our trips to the dead dog petting zoo. I think that's where we should adopt our next pet from. Think you can remember to take it out for a drag twice a day?"
Comrade: "What is wrong with you?"
Last night, around 1000pm, I made a joke about how the Moon Knight comics were so bad that I would rather mop the floor.
Last night at 10:30, I mopped the gaming room, the TV room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. Only the office (which is too cold to use right now), the spare room/library (which only I use, and not very often), and the bedroom (where Comrade was doing online D&D were not mopped. I planned on doing those rooms tonight when I got home from work, or tomorrow.
This morning, at 10:30, I went to work.
This morning at 11:00, Motherfucker Goose took a wet, sticky poop, none of which she left in the litterbox. Instead, she dragged it across every inch of the kitchen, straight through the gaming room, into the TV room, on to the still newish couch, back through the gaming room, into the bedroom where she dragged herself across various piles of laundry that needed to be folded before hopping up on the bed, and waking up Comrade.
Just poop, Everywhere.
Tonight, at 7:15ish, I arrive home.
Comrade: "So, I looked at a couple of apartments that don't allow pets today. I'm not leaving you, or moving out, because I love you. But I just wanted the thrill of imagining what it would be like to never live with cats again."
Tonight at 8:30, I remopped the gaming room, the TV room, and the bathroom. I bathed the very sad cat who had spent the day in jail (the kitchen). She screeched. Selina (who hasn't had to have a bath in a year because she takes care of herself) screeched in sympathy. I dried off the still yowling Motherfucker. I mopped the kitchen. Comrade put the couch cushion covers in the washing machine (he'd cleaned them with the products they gave us with the couch earlier, but hadn't realized the covers come off and can be machine washed (but not machine dried).
The cats are still in jail.
Comrade: What would it take for you to get rid of Selina, so we can get a dog?
Me: Selina loves dogs, and dogs ... some dogs tolerate Selina.
Comrade: But she's The Worst cat.
Me: She's not the worst.
Selina runs into the kitchen, jumps on the table, knocking a full tub of duck sauce on my lap and the floor, then runs back out.
Me: I fucken hate that cat.
Comrade: Just think how much better ANY dog woud be.
Me: Well, not Any Dog. But ... yea, most dogs.
Selina runs into the overturned duck sauce, and runs out again.
I grab some paper towels and start cleaning up the duck sauce. "Can you ... put her in the other room while I clean this."
Comrade tries to corner Selina, she runs into the bedroom. Comrade goes into bedroom, Selina runs into the living room. Comrade goes into the living room, Selina runs back to the bedroom. Comrade begins squawking like a chicken and running at her, full speed. Selina runs into the office (aka The Cat Room), and Comrade shuts the door behind her.
Me: Thank you.
Comrade: Do I get some sort of reward?
Me: I'm going to slather you in duck sauce and--
Comrade: No. That is not something I'm going to do for you.
Me, invading his personal space: Quack for me.
Comrade: I've been meaning to ask you ... what do you think about having a more open relationship?
Living Up To Her Name
Me, to MF Goose: What's up, jerk?
Comrade: Why is she a jerk? She's the good one!
She jumps up and knocks over all of my Scrabble tiles.
I have a writing project I need to work on, but first Comrade and I will have a late breakfast.
Ok, the water has boiled over slightly, dampening one burner, and this has, somehow rendered all the burners useless, while not impacting the oven. No problem, I'll just use some matches to ....
There are no matches or lighters in the house.
Is Comrade the first person I've dated for more than a month that doesn't smoke?
Comrade and I decide to have some cereal for breakfast and watch some Brooklyn 99.
About three minutes into the episode, a wasp and a bumblebee find their way into the apartment. Selina is delighted. Motherfucker doesn't pay attention. Comrade and I briefly try and figure out a way to open the window without interacting with wasp and bumblebee before leaving the house to go buy a lighter for the stove and Raid for the flying pests. Not to be mixed.
Bread is purchased. Provolone is purchased. Milk is purchased. A grill lighter is purchased. Wasp, Yellowjacket & Hornet Killer is purchased.
An Ignorance of Bros hang out by the corner of the store, less than two feet apart not wearing masks. I consider spraying them with Raid.
I read the packaging on the Raid and realize it will be super unhelpful as it is an outdoor spray and would be dangerous even to incredibly intelligent cats. Selina would be doomed.
Knowing my feeling on wasps and hornets, Comrade volunteers to go in to try and "Rambo those bastards. Oops, is that hate speech?" (This is a Dr. Bobby joke that has somehow crossed over to Comrade, even though the two have never met, or even talked to each other.)
I sit in the hallway, looking at my phone while I hear sporadic noises from the apartment. Soon, Comrade comes out of the apartment in goggles, his facemask, and oven gloves, holding a balled up paper towel, which he carries outside. Thus is the bumblebee reintroduced to the wild.
Comrade pulls of his facemask when he comes back in. "Selina is useless. The wasp was having trouble flying when I went in, and she was just looking at it real close. Not even trying to paw it, just watching it hover and fall. I whacked it with the paper towel roll, but it escaped into the shades for a few seconds before reemerging. Then I whacked it to death with the paper towel roll. Want to see it?"
It has now been about two hours since I set out to get some writing done. The cereal is, of course, ruined, even if I didn't suspect it had been massively tampered with by the sting bros. But I have a lighter, and, lo, I manage to reignite the stove.
First, however, I have to pick up the kitchen since someone (and Comrade swears it was Selina, while we were out) has destroyed the kitchen by first knocking over the trash can, and then distributing the trash to the previously garbage deficient portions of the kitchen.
By the time the kitchen is cleaned, and the now late lunch is prepared, the writing is no longer on the schedule. The wasp's descendents will be hearing from my lawyers re: lost wages.
Oh shit. The wasp's descendents are my lawyers?
This seems weirdly famliar.
At Least Thrice Daily
Comrade: "Do you realize how frequently you tell your cats to 'calm (their) tits'?"
Me: "Cats have lots of nervous energy AND lots of tits."
Comrade at 1:45: "I'm tired. We should crash."
Me: "We can't crash until 2:30."
Me: "Don't ask. Let's just watch another episode of Brooklyn 99."
At 2:15, Motherfucker jumps on the bed and curls up on my leg.
Comrade: "Did your cat just sigh?"
Selina: "GUESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS WHAT I HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE?"
Me: "Shut up, Selina."
Selina: "HERE'S A CLUE! YOU WEAR ONE ON YOUR FEET IN THE DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIME."
Comrade: "Is that my sock?"
Me: "Let her have it. It used to be a ball, but Goose destroyed that. Then it was one of my socks, until I hid them all in the drawer. Then she started bringing me the paper towel roll. It will always be something."
Comrade: "Every night?"
Me: "At precisely 2:15. And if I close the door, she won't stop until I open the door. And if I try playing with her at 1:45, she'lll run away and hide. And if I pick her up at 2:00 and keep her trapped in a cuddle, she waits until I fall asleep and then announces whatever it is she can get her paws on, the moment she riggles free. "
Selina: "IT'S A SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCK."
Comrade: "Has she always done this?"
Me: "No. I've had this cat for ten years. She's always been loud, but she didn't start having such a rigid play schedule until I moved into this place."
Comrade: "You should move again. And maybe leave her behind."
Selina: "I'LL ALWAYS FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIND YOU LIKE I FOUND THIS SOCK!"
Comrade: "How long does she --"
Me: "She's got one more meow and then she'll go hang out in the window."
Selina: "I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE THE WINDOW. I'M GONNA GO IN THE WINDOW NOW!"
Motherfucker loudly exhales.
Me: "Ok. Now we can go to sleep."
Selina: YO HOMOS.
Me: Shut up, Selina.
Selina: WHAT YOU'RE DOING IS AGAINST GOD.
Me: Cat, what's your problem?
Selina: IT'S ADAM AND EVE, NOT ADAM AND COMRADE.
Me: You're the worst.
Comrade: I don't think you know what she's saying.
Selina: YOU CONSISTENTLY DATE LOSERS, YOU KNOW THAT?
Me: Wow. You are Awful tonight.
Comrade: What did she call me?
Me: Butt pirate.
Comrade: I was defending you, you little Shit Ostrich.
Selina: MRRRRRRRRREOWR MREOWWWWWWWWWWWWR. MREOWR.
Comrade: You didn't tell me she was homophobic.
Selina: MREEEEOWR MROWR MREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOWR.
Comrade: You. Are. A. Monster.
Comrade: Why is your cat so homophobic, anyway?
Me: She's an evanjellicle.
During a discussion about how being half-assed is only acceptable if it results in a zonkey:
Comrade: Mules don't cut it.
Me: Mules are the ostriches of horses.
Comrade: Or Canada Geese.
Me: Canada Geese are The Worst. If we're going to be a country of racists who build a border wall, it should be to keep out Canada Geese.
Comrade: That would have to be a very tall wall, and I doubt we could get the geese to pay for it.
Me: Tax. The. Swans
Me: I don't want to jinx us, but ever since you showed up, my cat has stopped being annoying.
Comrade: I'm sorry. Are we dating? Or am I your tawdry cat whisperer?
There are scratching sounds from my drawer.
Comrade: Which one is that?
Me: Curse word bird with a weird neck.
Comrade: Shit Ostrich?
Me: That is definitely her name from now on.
Selina: MY NAME IS NOT SHIT OSTRICH!
Me & Comrade: SHUT UP SHIT OSTRICH!
Shit Ostrich has been quiet ever since.
Nosey Guy Who Always Comes In And Expects Me To Give Him A Free Therapy Session Because He Is Lonely And I Am Trapped In A Store: "I have a date tonight."
NG: "It's tough you know."
NG: "Are you married?"
NG: "Ever been in a relationship?"
NG: "I hear you. Do you ever want to be married?"
NG: "A lot of guys don't realize they need relationships."
NG: "You know what I mean?"
NG: "You seem to have it all figured it out."
Comrade Via Text: "What are we doing for dinner?"
I start to type.
NG: "I've been dating a long time. I could tell you some stories."
CvT, before I can text a reply: "Wait, you're going out tonight, right?"
Me via Text: "Yep. But I should still be home moderately early. Be aware, I'm going to have an entire bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling cider. I hope you're prepared for the consequences."
NG: "Sure do have a lot of stories."
Me: "Anything I can help you find?"
NG: "I kind of want to go over there."
He points to the section that I have blocked off.
Me: "Sorry. It's closed today."
NG: "Like your heart."
Me: "Like my patience."
He leaves without buying anything.
Me via Text: "Are you hanging out with the dust mops."
CvT: "No. Shit Ostrich is lazy on the bookcase, Goose is lazy on the floor. I'm lazy on the bed. We are all unimpressed with Monday."
MvT: "Same. You should hang out with Shit Ostrich. You seem to be a good influence on her."
CvT: "On the bookcase? That seems dangerous."
MvT: "Got it. Sturdier bookcases."
CvT: "Sure? I wouldn't make that a priority."
Like I've ever had any sense of priority.