Sunday, December 5, 2010

Cats Make Me Retarded

I am the epitome of masculinity...and I think cats are super-cute!

I know I am scrawny, at about 6ft tall and 155 pounds there is no denying this fact.  I'm also a vegetarian with an English degree.  I'm completely aware that misconceptions are quickly formed when all of these factors are combined.

But that doesn't stop me from occasionally firmly believing that I am the definition of manliness.

Machismo is often frowned upon by western civilization since having male pride is often mistaken for being a "sexist pig."  Opportunities for bravado are rare, as I touched upon in the previous entry, there just aren't many chances to bravely do anything since modern living is annoyingly safe and convenient. 

Since my physique, educational background, and diet limit my chances to feel manly just as much as post-industrial living does; I tend to savor any reason I might have for feeling manly without having to drink heavily, eat tons of meat and watch sports all day.  (Drinking frequently/heavily is stupid, meat seems to slow me down for some reason, and I would rather be doing something than watching other people do things.)

Modern society's views on what hobbies/lifestyles are manly are sickeningly skewed.  (But we'll save that for another day.)

If I get to repair anything, or even just do basic maintenance I immediately bust out my boots and flannel shirt.  I do this because my typical job-hunting day consists of sitting at my computer, doing some cleaning around the house, then going running/lifting/Hapkido practice.  That's it.  Basically, 90% of the time I am in my pajamas or sweats...and after 5 weeks of job hunting it has taken a toll on my self-image. 

So anyway, when the opportunity comes for me to revel in my XY chromosomes, I go full blown Alpha Male.  There's not much that can snap me out of this Alpha Male mindset once it settles in.

Cats are the exception.

Cats are always the freaking exception.  To everythingEVERYTHING.

  • Gravity?  Forget that!  Cats be flying around the house and then landing on their feet.
  • Basic Anatomy?  Forget that too!  Cats have bones when they want to have bones (which is never...until it is vet appointment time anyway)
  • Staying off the field during a baseball game?  NOPE.

Because they defy all logic and essentially give the laws of the universe the middle finger, I consider cats to be my favorite living thing on the planet.  (Yes, I like cats more than people.  A cat has never dissapointed me because I've never had any expectations of a cat, thus, favorite species by default.  Deal with it, mankind, you are second fiddle to cats.)

Some cats are better than others.   

[Girlfriend] had a particularly awesome cat named Mr. B (short for Silver Bob, but nobody ever called him that).

Any cat can knock me out of my Alpha Male mode if it is close enough for me to interact with it.  Cats are like a drug to me for some reason.  It could be a rabid ball of hatred and I will insist on trying to pet it.

I am an idiot like that.

Mr. B was particularly good at switching off the bravado and switching on the insatiable craving for cute and fuzzy.  I suspect Mr. B was aware of this because whenever I would go to [Girlfriend's] house, he would show up and use his charms to turn me into a sappy freak with a high pitched voice and inability to contain my adoration.

If the cat is really cool, I will talk to it as if it could understand every word I say.  Cats make me retarded (and I know it's not PC to use that word, but I am betting any doctor would diagnose me as mentally impaired should a cat be in the room during the diagnosis). 

Mr. B was cool because he basically didn't give a shit.  He knew he had nothing to worry about, [Girlfriend], her sister and their parents took excellent care of him.  When I first met Mr. B he was so confident that his owners wouldn't let a crazy person in the house that he trusted me immediately.

When I started my typical gushing over how adorable he was, he just took as being justifiably worshiped and loved me for it.  It was pretty much a bromance after that.

One would think that when in the presence of [Girlfriend] I would want to take every opportunity to be extra masculine around her to "make up for all the sissy things I do."  Chivalry is out of the question since she's the independent type, I can hold the door open for her and she's gradually getting less offended when I pay for dinner...but other than that chivalry is dead (or at least comatose).

Besides, she's way above all that, and I think she might actually enjoy watching my demeanor go from "Chuck Norris" to "Hello Kitty" in 3 seconds.

You might also think it is a terrible idea to let [Girlfriend] know that cats make me retarded...but you are so wrong!

[Girlfriend] also loses all sense of reality when in the company of anything cute. 

Example:  [Girlfriend] spent a significant portion of an evening in fits of laughter over randomly/nonchalantly offering her dog a "brewski."  (And I love it!)

We're both hopelessly insane, and it rocks.

In loving memory of Mr. B


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I got my English degree and mountain of student loan debt from the University of Iowa. I like boo berry cereal, martial arts, running and cats.
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