Friday, June 27, 2008

The Time I Birthed A Kitty

Recently I felt the need to spread my love for the world with a child of my own. Unfortunately Amelia was neither willing nor able to provide me a child in a timespan that was conducive to my immediate need. Thus, we decided to get a cat.

The search has been teetering on the brink of actually getting a cat for some time now. We started my looking at websites of animal shelters and in newspapers and on craigslist, but really it got too sad to look at these adorable cats and not be able to get them.

Recently I moved into a new apartment and so with all the moving expenses and getting settled, it just wasn't the right time for a cat. But the desire became to large and my need for constant attention for something that was smaller and cuter than I could ever be was just too much. The search picked up about 3 weeks ago, Amelia and I started planning to go to the shelter in Greensboro and picking our own kitty out.

As it so happened I was at the hairdresser in Burlington and we were chatting away (like old hags do!) and I told her that we were getting a cat. Then she dropped one into my lap. She said that she had a kitten she took in nearly 5 months ago and that she already has two and just couldn't get rid of it. Perfect! A free kitty? Yes Please.

Immediately I said yes, without consulting a certain girlfriend and I tried to get this poor woman's address so that I could pick up that cat within a matter of minutes. (Two things prevented this from happening, the fact that she had to work and the fact that she lived in a one stop light town 45 minutes away.) Thus I agreed to pick up that cat tomorrow.

I called Amelia on the way home were she hit me with a reality brick - did the cat have shots? how old was it? did it have every limb? Was it feral? Was I feral?

I didn't know what feral meant, so like any child that unconsciously wants something I made up answers. "Yes the cat has all it's shots. I'm pretty sure it was voted healthiest cat in North Carolina." These answers didn't go over well at all. Thus I had to call hairdresser lady.

She responded with all of the worst possible answers - no shots, found in the countryside, skinny as hell, possibly feral. Again, I disregarded these things - she lived in a home for 5 months with another cat, how bad can she be. Amelia conceded and the cat was ours.

We bought all the supplies that night, food, a bed, brush, litter, litter box. We were a machine and I was going to be a dad to a 2 pound black cat (like I dreamed of as a little girl!).

The next day we picked up the cat and we put the cat in the new cat taxi (blue) and took her home. In the car she cried and cried and cried until we opened the door to the taxi. She wouldn't come out and but at least stopped crying. She eventually came out 2 minutes before we got home and roamed the car, so 2 minutes later when we put her back in her crate the crying resumed. (Starting to regret this already...)

We let her out as soon as we get in and decide to leave her alone until she is ready to be civil. She darts under the couch and doesn't come out for, what amounts to the rest of the evening. Fast forward 2 weeks.

I am amazed by this kitty, she is no older than 7 or 8 months and is very friendly. After 6 hours of being a recluse (including not eating or pooping) she became Gabby (a name based on Gabe - a name with both Amelia and I like, but would never do for a child of mine - Gabe Fagan = Gay Fag in middle school language). Although I have never owned a cat before I am convinced she is the smartest cat. What follows are several examples of why I love this cat and 1 example of why I do not.

1. This cat opens doors. Obviously cats can contort themselves to wedge open doors that are slightly cracked. This cat can open closed doors. Our closet opens outward and closes magnetically up top. The cat reaches her paw underneath the door and pushes on the inside to pop it open. I nearly peed my pants when this happened for the first time.

2. Cats love to climb (I've heard) and this cat loves to scale the closet. I found her recently on the closet shelf (about 6 feet off the ground) just chilling out. I'm not convinced that she cant jump 6 feet vertically, because there is NO room to run and jump.

3. The cat loves Amelia's hair bands. After a few nights of leaving them (and subsequently losing them) on the nightstand, Amelia put the hairbands in a small jewelry box. The next night the cat had stolen the jewelry box, opened it, and got the hairbands. (I secretly applauded, while Amelia not so secretly seethed.)

However, the cat apparently knows how smart she is and has become the princess that most cats are. She apparently does not sleep and when I wake up at 6 AM for work she is already meowing at me when my feet hit the floor. She then dashes to the food bowl to ask for food. This was fine until last week, when we got her wet food, which is the Filet Mignon of cat food. The cat no longer eats dry food (she is too good for it) and will whine for wet food, even though dry food is in her bowl (someone needs to explain fiscal lesson of how much cheaper dry food is than wet food to this cat.)

Regardless, the cat is a blast to be around. I will not get into the borderline creepy things I like about her (watching her walk, rubbing my face into her stomach and holding her up with one hand to the ceiling like Simba in the Lion King,) instead I will leave you with some pictures of Gabbykins.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

The Time I Broke My Phone

I broke my fucking phone.


I really wanted to break it. I pictured myself breaking it and so I broke it. Why did this happen?
Well other than my obvious anger issues, it was a direct result of trying to directions to Amelia over the now deceased phone. We were not on the same page and I was telling her to turn left because google maps said to and of course, in real life there just happened to be a median there. Somehow (most likely me not listening) I didn't hear her say that and so going around in circles on the phone really made me want to smash the phone.

As I sat staring at Google Maps and watching it load frame by frame on a computer that is probably older than Dakota Fanning I could picture myself holding my phone in my left hand and then bringing my hand over and punching it right out of my hand. As the conversation ended I had my chance.

However by that point I was just too upset to perfect the "phone punch." So i did the rational thing and threw it to the ground. The phone did not smash and I think that makes it worse. When I went to pick up the phone it was in 3 pieces - Phone, Battery, Battery Back. I thought I might have made it but as I went to turn on the phone I realized the LCD screen was cracked. Which means no more phone. IF you feel the need to smash a phone and you know it is going to break, you at least hope that it will break in to somewhere between 12 and 457 separate pieces.
I felt little to no satisfaction with my simple disassembly.

This was no normal phone, last year, while soothing my cocaine craving for technology I went and bought a Samsung Blackjack. Is this the Rolls Royce of phones? No, it was only $50 used. But nonetheless it had highspeed internet, video, mp3 player (larger than my iPod Nano). And generally was just always helpful.

I fondly remember the time I found out that I could download google maps onto the phone and from then on I was only moderately lost while trying to stare at the 2 inch screen while driving (apparently this phone also protects from paralyzing car crashes). I bought it just before the iPhone came out and I barely even regretted that decision. I always felt it was the Matt Damon to George Clooney (dreamy on the inside, just a little fug on the outside, like MAYYYYYBE just one DNA strand of down syndrome).

Nonetheless, I decided to hand straight to the AT&T store to see what my options were. Apparently they don't teach the one person manning the store about any phone whatsoever and so I knew an adventure was in store. I am told to wait a second as a homeless man eats a sandwich in front of the lady and so I check out the cheapest phone. My idea at this point is to get the cheapest phone I can until the new iPhone comes out in July.

I find a few free phones but they are only free with a 2 year extension, but I dont qualify for a new extension for another 6 months, meaning I would have to pay full price. So I ask the lady if there is anyway the phone could be fixed and she said that she didn't know but because i "dropped" (i lie sometimes, does that excite you?) it that even the warranty wouldn't cover it because it was user error. Is that not the point of a warranty?

Well it turns out my warranty was probably expired anyway, but little miss know-it-all could not check because they are only allowed to service phones from this area code (336) and I am currently still repping central Jersey (908, holler!). She tries to convince just to by the blackjack for $150 and then mail in a $100 rebate and I'd get the phone for only $50. I told her my iPhone plan and she tried to convince me how terrible the iPhone was. "Do you like to take pictures? SEND PICTURES? TAKE VIDEO!?!?!?!?"

I responded no, no and the Blackjack doesn't take video. (Also note the iPhone DOES take pictures, making her first two questions moot.) I asked her if I would penalized if I bought a cheapo phone and then just went out and bought an iPhone in two weeks, but she didnt think so. (However she did encourage me to use the phone for two weeks and then return it later. I hope AT&T reads this blog. And if they do it is their store next to the largest Wal-Mart in North Carolina on the outskirts of Greensboro and her name was a variation of Shana but with a few q's, i's and l's thrown in for fun).

I then realized I still had my old phone that worked and has a fun flashing red light that definitely resembles Cyclops from the X-Men. I asked (already knowing the answer) if my SIM card would transfer and she said yes. So I returned home to use my lowly non internet phone until I can afford and iPhone or SOMEONE gets it for me for my bday.

Before saying goodnight to my wonderful phone I tried to rescue the numbers off of it by plugging into my computer but she said no and so I probably don't have your number. So maybe leave it for me eh?

As I typed that last paragraph I realize I should be more upset about breaking a phone that has lived in my hand for a year, but let's be real I'm only two weeks away from an iPhone and George Clooney gives much better anal than Matt Damon anyway (he's a prude).

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

The Time I Found A Wallet

First and foremost my dear reader(s) I want to apologize for the yo-yo that is my blog posting. I swore that I wouldn't do this but here I go anyway. From now on I will write daily (or weekly, whatever floats my fancy) or you get a Whatchamacallit. Yes the delicious candy bar that may or may not have been recalled several decades ago. I am not responsible for any lingering ailments the 20 year old candy bars may cause.

On to the story!

To say I am just above the poverty line at this moment in my life is no exaggeration. I'll readily admit that this is my own fault (my electronics fetish is quite consuming), but at this point I now have a lifestyle I have to keep up and bills be damned I need HD Cable and a car that carries a monthly cost that rivals a Hummer. While I considered trading in my Prius for a 1988 Geo (same MPG!) Al Gore convinced me that trading down to non-hybrid status would guarantee that Bush gets a 3rd term.

So I want/need money like Amy Winehouse needs menthol flavored heroine (goes down smoother). On my way home from work I ran into a situation that only presents itself on shitty teen sitcoms (i.e. Family Matters, Growing Pains and Suite Life of Zach and Cody). I found me a wallet.

While saving the world through fuel economy (driving) I saw something fly out from the motorcyclist in front of me. My first thought was the normal reaction (roadkill, again) but as the wallet hit the ground my 6th sense kicked in and I sensed cash was to be had. So being the gentle human I am, I debated briefly whether or not I should pick it up. I turned around.

I was about a square block away from the wallet and so in the 45 seconds of drive time I had before I met my remedy I pondered how much I would make. I swore I saw a pile of bills fall out (like the ones them fancy pimps carry) and I was quite overjoyed. I return to the scene of the crime, park the car and search the street for that brown sack of cash.

I find the wallet. Inside where all of this man's info (I'll call him Tim). Tim's college ID, Tim's Credit Card, Tim's Players Club Card, I had him right where I wanted him. I then searched for the dollar bills that were surely scattered among the street.

I found one dollar. His wallet lied, this man was no player and his card should be revoked. Sure, the dollars could've blown away but regardless they were not there and my sense of "decency" took over. I decided to put the solitary dollar away in the wallet and look at Tim's license to find out where he lived. Google maps (on my phone) was none to helpful so I returned home to see if I could look him up on the interweb.

Maybe watching My Name is Earl has brought me into the mindset of Karma, but at this point I'm hoping its real because this is a lot of fucking work for very little in return. This man did not exist on the interweb, so I tried my hands at google maps again and decided to drive to the address and just hand Tim the wallet.

Amelia and I hopped in the car and set off for the 3 mile journey. After getting lost, and getting saluted by two....pudgy 10 year old girls we found the place. We get out of the car, wallet in tow and knock on the door. Tim takes just 2 seconds too long to answer, but as soon as he opens the door he knows why we are there (there could be no other reason that white people would be in this neighborhood). Elated, Tim just screams "thank you thank you!" I explain to where I found it and asked him if he was riding a motorcycle (all while giving the "vroom vroom" handle bar sign). He indeed was. This was my Tim.

Tim then asked what we wanted in return. This question puzzled me - I of course said nothing and began to walk away, but Tim followed and asked for our names. In the long run it will never really matter, but that instant is quite an awkward moment. I just saved this man months worth of heartache and want nothing in return, but as a human being, he can not just "oh thanks" and slam the door.

It was at this instant that I began to feel pretty good about myself. Karma for me! I did my good deed for the year and I was resolved to walk away with just that feeling. As I embraced this feeling, I realized that he might think we said we didn't want anything because we took his money (imagine if he did have a pimp's goblet worth of cash and now it was gone, he would obviously assume we took it to reward ourselves). I quickly hoped that there was no other money than the $1 bill and that karma would love me for eternity.

I know what you are thinking, I shouldn't have karma because I stopped to pick up the cash. To that I say yes, BUT there is no guarantee I would've kept the cash and I did the right thing anyway so I deserve the karma.

Also my entire definition of what karma is, is based on a shitty TV show featuring a Scientologist and that fat guy from Boy Meets World.

The moral of the story is that I'm still poor and I did a nice thing for a man I didn't know, but that man probably suspects me for stealing his "ho" money. Does karma come yearly in the form of a cashier's check?