They didn’t teach this in Fight Club

So a few weeks ago some my family – my grandmother’s brother and two of her neices – came to visit. I hadn’t seen them since a funeral several months before, so it was nice to get together and have a good meal and talk for a while – when a man is 93, you know you probably don’t have too many chances left to do that. Anyhoo, the day had been jsut lovely and was getting ready to wind down (they were heading home to Pulaski) when we heard this terrible cat-screetching from outside. Lily had been outside that morning and hadn’t come back yet, so I ran for the door. After searching around the yard a few times, I didn’t find her, but I did find the neighbour’s huge cat hiding under our bushes – this cat bears an odd resemblance to Lily, by the way, except for being bigger and a little fluffier.

I went back inside and mom told me that Lily had come running in the front door just after I left and was hiding under the couch. I coaxed her out, picked her up to see if she was hurt…and discovered that she was Covered. In. Pee.

That hairball peed on my cat!

The weirdest part? They’re both females. 

Fortunately for me, Lily likes water, so I dumped her in the tub – and then jumped in with her, since I was urine-scented too from holding her. Bleh.

I’ve never heard of female cats spraying before.


I am craving pizza so harcore right now. Apparenlty I’m not as hungry as LillyKitten, though, who is gnawing on some silk ivy.

And I just realized, I totally forgot to mention: I had the dubious privilege of witnessing, this weekend, Chapter 1-8 of R. Kelly’s ‘urban opera’ “Trapped in the Closet.” I have no words. For a while, I had no breathe, from all the laughter. At one point I was laughing so hard that “a tear fell up out muh eye.”  It’s like a train wreck; you just can’t not watch. Essentially, the people on screen are acting out and mouthing the words that R. Kelly is singing; the lyrics of every song are just dialogue and passive action. An example from Chapter One:
“Shh, shh, quiet
Hurry up and get in the closet”
She said, “Don’t you make a sound
Or some shit is going down”
I said, “Why don’t I just go out the window?”
“Yes, except for one thing, we on the 5th floor”
“Shit,Think,Shit, think,Shit, quick, put me in the closet”
And now I’m in this dark ass closet, tryin’ to figure out
Just how I’m gonna get my crazy ass up out this house

and then …

Throws her in the bed
And start to snatchin’ her clothes off
I’m in the closet, like man, what the fuck is going on?
You’re not gonna believe it
But things get deeper as the story goes on
Next thing you know, a call comes through on my cell phone
I tried my best to quickly put it on vibrate
But from the way he act, I could tell it was too late
He hopped up and said, “There’s a mystery going on
And I’m gonna solve it”
And I’m like, “God please, don’t let this man open this closet”


The beauty – and, coincidentally, the tragedy – of this is that anyone can do it. Yes, you too can write an R Kelly song. Stand up. Walk across the room. Open a door. And while you’re doing all that..sing about it! It’s like crack! The insanity just won’t leave you alone!