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Friday, January 15, 2010

~Abandoned Babies Are A Buzz Kill & Other Minutiae

(my view from the tub)


So, there I was, gettin' all kindza relaxed. Just a BigBrownGirl trying to commune with the hot tub and find a lil' peace. What do I do, oh-so stressful that I need peace? Ok. Nuthin' out of the ordinary. But, really now... IS there such a thing as being too peaceful?!? No, I think not. Don't begrudge me my chillaxin'!

Alert! Alert!! Now is the time to conger up the haze of a fade out as the scene transitions into a flashback sequence. (A blog that's making you do sumthin', is that wrong? I donno. If I'm faux pas-ing, apologies. I do not like being a rule breaker.) Cue: chimey music to signify flashback.

...I was out in the hot tub scopin' out some stars. The water was the perfect temp. The air was still. At any temp, uber windy makes tubbin' less fun, in my opinion. (Oh, it's still tubbin'(!!), it's just not optimal, ya know?) The snowfall from the other day (past 17 days, in fact) dampened the sound of the world to nil. Until I was jolted into to wondering if I was on the cusp of having to give the police my statement on the child abandonment case seemingly unfolding in my hood!

Whaaaaaaaa. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Period of quiet. Whaaa. Is exactly what I heard.

I went from all delightfully submerged and floaty goodness to a rush and bundle of adrenaline. At first I tried to figure out which direction this cry was even coming from, trying to simultaneously process why anyone would leave a baby on a step here. I mean, outside of hospitals, police/fire stations, and maybe churches, ummmmm, ok. But leaving a baby on some residential cul de sac-y kind of place on a cold winters night seems like a pretty fuckin' bad idea.

All turned quiet on the hot tub front, then I heard crazy ass rustling in some bushes. And the distinct sound of two cries. Figuring that an abandoned baby probably wasn't tusselin' (I don't even know...with an animal?...with another baby?!?...I donno.) in the landscaping, only then did I decide that cats were the more likely culprit of the night time ta-doin's.

While I was relieved to find out that no babies were harmed during my hot tubbin', I can not say I ever achieved the peaceful feeling I had been in search of when I hopped in.

Honestly, I may have found myself extra perturbed because I don't even like cats to begin with. They seem very hoity-toity. They usually seem to look at people with contempt and condescension in their wee weird peepers. Everything seems like a big ass favor for them to do. Ugh. Cats. The only good feeling I have associated with cats are the Garfield sheets I had as a kid. I loved those damn sheets. Took 'em to college with me. There was something sooooooo uncool and square about it, it somehow seemed kinda coolio to me, at the time. Yep. I was that girl. Eh? Probably still am.



(Check, check, check, check it out- my Garfield sheets in my dorm room. Also note we had been trick-or-treating. Yes. In college. For beer, I suspect. I was the Great Pumpkin that year as you can barely see as I "drink" from my big ass High Life inflateable. Yep. Classy with a capital K, even then, baby!)

For the record, it's not like I want to pick up a cat, grab it by it's tail and start swingin' it around over my head like a lasso or anything. I've certainly never harmed a cat, although I can't say the same for them in return. Those fuckers make my eyes swell shut. FYI, not a particularly good look in a BBG. Plus, one beat Uncle John up! ...Poor ol' Uncle John being pummeled by the paws of a big ol' mean alpha kitty. This is when I learned Uncle John is not a fighter. His solution was very Gandhi. He sat down and put his little doggy nose in a corner with his back to that cat. Before you think my d oh double g is some kinda wimp dog, that damn cat had six or 7 pounds on Uncle John. Hardly and even match up.

I have no idea about the equity of, or outcome of the match up between the crazy (infant sound alike) clawin' cats. Even though I don't like them, I did find myself saying a silent prayer that they left each others company with their eyes. (I don't know why, but I always think a cat wants to scratch out an eye. Yet another reason I think they're shifty and not to be trusted.) And one for babies on door steps. What can I say? You can take the girl outta Catholic school, but you can't take the Catholic school outta the girl, I guess.

So, lessons for the day:
-BigBrownGirl has allergies & cares not for the felines.
-Leaving babies on doorsteps = bad.
-Uncle John is NOT a pussy.
-Begrudged and chillaxin' can be used in a sentence.
-Hot tubbin' is not always relaxing and peaceful.
-Reason #581 why my mom is cooler than me. She taught me the term "chillaxin'".
-Cats are assholes.


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2 comments:

jamiessmiles said...

Ohohoh, poor kitties. My cat beats the crap out of my dog on a regular basis, and My dog is WAY freaking bigger. Lesson: Jamie's dog Lucy is a pussy. I do love cats though. But the superiority thing, what I like best about them. I love how we always try to discern what they are thinking, when obviously what they are always thinking when they look at us is "what can you do for me"

BigBrownGirl said...

Awww, poor Lucy!! Apparently, dogs are not only man's best friend but cats too. Please give your Lucy a scratch from Ohio.

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