Showing posts with label chocolate soy milk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chocolate soy milk. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

The Poor Dead Cat Is Now Gone. But I Can Still Smell Him In My Nostrils.


Former sky burial site of 'Fritz,' the neighborhood dead cat


I am not really sure what happened to the mushy, deteriorating corpse of the feral cat known only as 'Fritz.' One moment it was there, stinking up the universe, and the next moment it was gone. To be honest, I feel a little let down to not have seen what actually happened (i.e. who actually happened) or to see how many pieces of bone and fur the body in question deteriorated into during removal, but I have some theories, each of them equally valid.

1. Animal Control finally found some time between chasing stray pit bulls and keeping track of goats to swing by with a big shovel and clean up death roughly nine to ten days after it happened.

2. Beowulf, the Musical, Encore Act: Feral Cat Tie-In

If you weren't there for the original four acts, this may seem a little out of left field, but they were great. Basically, Beowulf and his men get stuck in the future by a spell cast by Selma that goes terribly awry. If you are wondering who Selma is, that is harder to explain especially since I deleted that blog when I was looking for a job, but suffice it to say, she is a 'sensual witch,' she is played by Sarah Polley, and she is emphatically not in the book. This time around, Beowulf travels to the future on purpose, presumably to see himself portrayed on the Ashby Stage and stops by my place to visit for old time's sake. (We had a thing in one of the acts--I can't remember which and I'm far too lazy to check.) He doesn't find me at home, but he sure does find a terrifying odor that he wages an epic battle against, finally taming death and decay into submission. He then makes a cool pelt out of the remains and throws the rest in the sewer. After that he slips quietly back into the fifth century without leaving so much as a note. Cad!

3. The Doctor and the Tardis

As it turns out, the Mad Cat Stabber of 54th Street has nothing to do with my roommate (who admittedly has expressed anti-cat statements, so I think my initial accusations should remain understandable) and everything to do with alien invasion. No matter! Here comes the lovable, huggable Doctor in his shiny blue box with his (if you ask me) overly emotional traveling companion, Donna Noble. (Really, just to advertise for myself as a possible traveling companion, I do not shed tears every which way and remain stoic and focused during all sorts of debacles, including those that threaten the very existence of the human race. Trust me, these sorts of catastrophes happen all around me as it is. I am ready.) Basically, at some point when no humans are looking out the window, the Doctor appears in his Tardis, stops the alien, and vaporizes the cat with that cool screwdriver thing he has. You would think we would have all noticed the distinctive noise made by the Tardis as it makes its entrances and exits, but one of my other roommates was listening to the Pogues very loudly in the living room area and I was busy pretending to be drunk and and and the story is we missed the entire episode completely. Which is too bad, since I would have liked to say hey to the Doctor. We had a great time traveling into the past to lurk in the dark nook between the washer-dryer unit and the fridge in my kitchen in order to discover whoever was purloining my chocolate soy milk in the act. We never did find out, but, like I said, we had a great time.

4. Some random person threw the dead cat in the trash.

I hope this random person did not throw the stinking, corruptible dead cat carcass in our trash, because there is a fine for improper disposal of domestic animals. I am pretty sure this is not the case, however, because when I was taking out the garbage last night I did not see (or smell) any remains. So I guess I will probably never know. (Please believe me when I tell you of the restraint and self-censorship it is taking to stop short of bringing Sherlock Holmes into this.) Thank you.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

I Need To Start Traveling with the Doctor Right Now. Please Tell the BBC About Me the Next Time You Run into Them.


my cat, Gerard Butler, the victim of my manic roommate's latest manic cleaning spree


I mean, time and space are calling my name.

I'm not even going to be super picky about which regeneration I travel with. I'd easily go with either David Tennant or Christopher Eccleston. However under no circumstances with that buffoonish looking blond guy with curly hair and question marks on his lapels. Regardless, we'd just sizzle on screen, but of course everything would remain platonic.

I would make a great sidekick. I am less good at being in charge. For example, last weekend it was apparently my job to be in charge of writing down the address of the Lab. I did not do a good job of being in charge of writing down the address for the Lab. Luckily it was very close to BART and some familiar looking poets were lurking outside so all was not lost. Just three dollars each. And two hours each. Yawn. And BART fare each. Maybe it would have been better if we'd never found it. But then I would have been blamed for not being good at being in charge of writing down the address to the Lab without any chance to redeem myself. But I'm not used to being in charge, I would have tearfully defended myself. Nobody ever lets me be in charge! They think I will hurt myself and others with the sharp, pointy object of being in charge. I am a damsel.

Damsel or not, I can kick some ass. Aliens will have no chance against me. I will be armed with techniques I learned to protect myself while working in a home for disturbed teenage girls, all of whom were bigger than me and who hated my guts. Any alien who messes with me will be immediately subject to a level-3 restraint. No questions asked. And I won't be filling out any 'incident reports' this time around.

I have to admit that I have some ulterior motives for why I want to travel with the doctor. I am thinking that if I am really good at being his companion and kicking alien ass, the good doctor might do me a favor. Just like he let Rose go back to see her father. He would take us back in time to my kitchen and we would lurk in the dark little niche between the washer/dryer unit until I discover which one of my roommates has so callously depleted my stores of all-natural peanut butter, raspberry jam, coffee and chocolate soy milk. And which one of my manic roommates threw out Gerard Butler's collapsible cardboard cat carrier during their latest manic cleaning spree. What if my cat, Gerard Butler, has a tummy ache and has to go to the vet immediately? In such a situation there would be no time to run to PetPals in order to purchase another carrying case. My cat, Gerard Butler, would have to ride the bus with me in a duffel bag. I do not think Gerard Butler would like this. I do not think anyone would like that.

Be warned, roommates!

I am watching you. The doctor and I are watching you from the dark niche between the washer/dryer unit and the fridge. Unhand my chocolate soy milk, asshole, or it's level-3 for you.