I thought cats were supposed to be elusive and good at hiding…
I know what you’re thinking. “Cat circus? That’s not even a real thing.” Well, you skeptic, it most certainly is a real thing and this blog serves as proof.
Suzanne came to Austin (so, now you know where I live…please don’t stalk me) Friday night. As fate would have it, there was also a cat circus in town the same night. So, duh we had to get tickets to that.
Naturally, we couldn’t show up to this thing sober because neither of us really knew what the hell to expect out of this. And, because it was on the east side of Austin, we weren’t sure if we’d die or not, and no one wants to die sober.
We walked into the little theatre and were immediately warned to close the door because there was a loose cat running around somewhere. We both got really excited at this point and wanted to find the loose cat. Editor’s note: there was no loose cat, so that was some bullshit.
We finally found seats (all six performances were sold out…I’ve truly missed my calling) and waited for the show to begin. The ring master came out, and was dressed like a character from Josie and the Pussycats–I’m talking cat ears and crushed velvet from head to toe. It was purrfect.
She has about 12 different cats kenneled that she pulls out at different times throughout the show, depending on what trick she’s trying to get them to perform–there were a couple hoop jumping cats, a skateboard cat, tight rope walking cat, shopping cart pushing cat, instrument playing cats, tight rope walking cat. I say ‘trying to perform’ because cats are dicks (celebrity performer cats included), and a good 80% of the time she let each cat out of its kennel to perform, it just walked out and stretched and sat down, and begged for its treat like it had done something spectacular.
This was the star of the show–a bitchy cat named Tuna. Prior to the show ending, we were warned not to touch Tuna because Tuna is a huge dick who hates humans and doesn’t like being petted and doesn’t enjoy other signs of affection either. So, naturally I tried to touch Tuna (because I WANT TO HUG ALL THE CATS but I can’t) and honestly, I’ve never been more scared for my life. That cat is 100% evil.
Here we are with the star of the show. Suzanne is terrified. And this was before I tried to pet her, so I still thought I stood a chance and could make her love me. I was let down approximately 45 seconds after this photo.
The best part of the entire show actually had nothing to do with cats. A guy in the audience attempted to start a slow clap and it went a little something like this…
Whether it’s a ponytail holder, a nail file, tube of chapstick, or candy in a candy dish, cats assume that we fill our lives with these things just for their amusement.
I recently bought a mini chalk board to hang by my front door that I can write vulgarities and other insightful thoughts on. So that means I need chalk, and in a cat brain, chalk equates to an entire box of cat toys.
Phase 1: Discovery of chalk.
Phase 2: Scientific analysis of chalk to determine how aerodynamic and easy it is to knock off the washing machine and into a deep, dark place where the human will never see it again.
Phase 3: In one swipe, destroy the chalk.
Phase 4: Confirmation of chalk newly located in black abyss.
Mission is accomplished.
So, I didn’t get out of bed this weekend. Blame the time change. Blame my ability to hibernate. Blame the amount of weirdos in town for SXSW…do whatever you need to do.
If I didn’t get out of bed, you can just about bet my assholes of cats saw no reason to get out of bed either, even though there was plenty of laundry to do. I was reminded that I don’t live in a Disney movie and these animals are not my servants and they basically serve me no actual purpose…except for blog content. Here’s my SXSW recap in photos.
Browning had had enough by Sunday morning and sat on my chest until I moved.
Excited for SXSW 2013.
I got home one day last week, and decided to just stand in my kitchen to see how Browning would react. He spent about 5 minutes sitting on the floor meowing at me. Then he decided to jump up on the counter directly across from me, as to be the same height as me.
In the photo above, he clearly knows that his little cat ass does not belong on the counter…but he’s going to sit there anyway.
“Hmm, maybe if I look over here, she’ll stop staring.”
“I’ll try direct eye contact with this bitch I guess.”
And, Browning’s ultimate way to say, “I DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOUR COUNTER!” is with this stupid face.
As we’ve told you before, cats absolutely hate when you’re doing something that isn’t petting them or feeding them. Browning’s favorite spot in the house happens to be wherever there is a puzzle being put together.
“Oh, cool. These humans think they’re putting a puzzle together.”
“According to my cat-ulations, this is right in the middle of the puzzle. I should lay here.”
“To show them I really don’t care about this stupid puzzle, I’ll start grooming myself.”
“Hmm. That’s weird. They’re still working on this stupid thing. Maybe I’ll flip over and they’ll rub my belly instead.”
“Are you assholes kidding me right now? This is the dumbest puzzle I’ve ever seen, and I’m a cat.”
I make no effort to work out or eat healthy. If you know me at all, chances are you know THAT about me. Well, that’s not true. In November I bought a gym membership, so we’ll call that progress.
The other night I was laying in bed, and alternating between eating cheez-its and Cheeto puffs, when this asshole right here started eyeing my dinner.
He started off stealing glances at them nonchalantly and then blatantly went in for the kill.
I’d like to believe that him stealing them is his little cute cat way of preventing me from becoming obese. But I know better than that.