I’m in Paris right now, and like every other douchebag hipster American tourist I visited Le Cimetiere du Pere Lachaise this afternoon. So there I was, admiring the view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance and taking photos to put on facebook for the sole purpose of making my friends jealous when I saw this asshole right here:
Being a crazy cat person, I immediately uttered a high-pitched “KIIIIIITTTTTTYYYYY” (cats just love it when you do that, by the way) and tried to pet her. The result was her running away, because cats are dicks and only like to be touched on their terms.
She stood a few feet away from me, just beyond reach (see Catherine’s post on how cats are always just out of reach) and would move away any time I came closer. Finally I stopped trying to pet her and turned my attention back to the cemetery, which of course resulted in her wanting attention because cats are dicks who only want you to love them when you are busy doing something else.
Cats, as a rule of thumb, exist to complicate our lives. If you’ve ever watched them, you know they’ll take the most complicated route from point A to point B, making sure to go over chairs, under tables and beds, and behind and over boxes before they get there.
Mine also eat a piece of food at a time. Browning sits in front of his bowl, carefully selects a morsel and puts it in his mouth, and then backs away from the bowl to actually eat it. Then repeats the process for each piece of stupid food. They do shit like this to annoy the hell out of cat owners. See my blog on passive-aggressive cats.
Cats are also sure to remain just out of reach, so that when you do feel like petting them and giving them the damn attention they throw fits for, they do this shit:
I’m leaving for the UK and France tomorrow so naturally I put off packing until about 10 minutes ago. I generally hate everything to do with packing….I hate deciding what I’m going to wear days in advance, I hate trying to tetris it all into as few bags as possible, I definitely hate feeling like I’m forgetting something (and I usually am), and I would really just rather watch tv and drink beer and just buy new shit to wear when I get wherever the fuck I’m going.
My hatred for packing is compounded by the fact that cats are a total pain in the ass when you’re trying to pack. Typically, these are the thoughts that go through a cat’s tiny brain when it sees you packing:
Why the fuck aren’t you paying attention to me?
Seriously, I’m right here climbing up your leg. PAY ATTENTION TO ME.
Maybe if I stand right in the middle of this giant cat bed you will pay attention to me.
Holy shit, this is a suitcase.
WHO THE HELL IS GOING TO FEED ME WHILE YOU’RE GONE?????????????????
Whatever, it’s cool. I don’t care where the fuck you go. You’re not my real mom anyway. P.S. You shouldn’t pack those shirts because they make you look totally fat. (This is the passive aggressive phase after I’ve thrown him out of the suitcase.)
Look how much I don’t care that you’re leaving. (This thought is accompanied by an attitude of nonchalance and lots of bored yawning and laying right under my feet and doing this..whatever the hell this is):
Oh sweet, you made a giant cat bed for me.
I would also like to take this opportunity to point out how freaking huge these two are. The bed in the guest room (pictured above ) is a full size bed. The suitcase takes up half the bed. ONE CAT TAKES UP THE WHOLE SUITCASE.
So, recently I had to make a call to my apartment complex’s office because two sets of my mini blinds needed to be replaced. I claimed it was because they were made brittle by the sun, but it’s really because my cats love to stare stupidly outside my windows, and there’s really nothing they’ll let prevent them from doing so.
I pull up tonight after a shit day at work, and notice this asshole sitting in my bedroom window. I come inside because sure as shit I know he’s messed up my blinds. I pull back my curtains and find this:
Then he’s proud enough to show me his handiwork, because I OBVIOUSLY CAN’T SEE WHAT HE’S DONE.
Let me clarify something. Despite the fact that Catherine and I own cats who are total dicks and who behave like complete assholes, we do not hate our cats. And we definitely did not create this blog to showcase how much we hate our cats’ dickish antics. It’s actually the complete opposite. We are cat people through and through, and we love the hell out of our douchebag cats. And even though it’s usually a huge inconvenience to us, we really do enjoy the fact that they behave like assholes. Being a pretty big jerk myself, I respect the hell out of anything that just doesn’t give a fuck and does what it wants 100% of the time. If anything, I’m fucking jealous of my cats because unlike them, I don’t have the luxury of behaving like a total dick and doing whatever the fuck I want whenever I want.
However, I can and will buy a hat that makes me look like a complete asshole and then I can and will wear it while I wallow around the house and get drunk and pretend like it’s my caturday:
And because she is also a cat person who loves cat-inspired shit and who also doesn’t give a fuck if it makes her look like an asshole, Catherine will do the same:
No one is hurting this cat. This is just her reaction to being moved from where she wanted to be on the couch. And where she wants to be is sleeping on my legs, but with her claws out and dug into my pajama bottoms so that if I move, I get shanked. Total dick behavior.