Monday, April 25, 2011
Meezer Monday: Pretty Vacant
Derrick is the type of cat who invests a great amount of time and resources on his toilette—grooming, toe spreading and nail biting, that thing when he looks like he’s eating corn on the cob and gets scrunchy face…
Bing, on the other hand, probably spends 1/10 of the time engaged in these behaviors. Now, as you may know, one of his daily chores is to rearrange the energy in the apartment. So, let’s say he were a person who did this sort of work in a corporate setting, and he shows up with his shirt buttoned unevenly—maybe it’s even backwards!—with his hair sticking up. Do you hope he doesn’t wander out for coffee when potential clients are around? Do you think his appearance means he’s lacking in less self-respect? Or is he just more concerned with what’s within him than what's without him? Then Derrick prances in, all Spiffy McSpifferson in, heck, a seersucker suit, and hair gelled back. He’s more likely to rearrange his whiskers, but, dang, he looks sharp. Do you even care that his deepest thought is wondering what’s for lunch?
You’re right, this post is going to a strange place that really isn’t about cats. And I personally don’t believe there’s any connection between IQ and physical appearance (though I read somewhere that those w/o wisdom teeth are more evolved), nor do I believe that Derrick only thinks about food. And if he did, so what?
No, this is all a result of PMS combined with this ridiculous book I saw in the library that listed essential make-up items that every woman should have, of which I had maybe, oh, 1? Male readers, I’ll tell you a secret—you may not know this, but it’s sort of weird for a woman not to wear make-up. Especially in New York City. I don’t know why I’m so stubborn—on the one hand, it’s like some sort of perverse/self-righteous/moral thing with me—where is the truth in painted-on beauty? Coming from a truth seeker with fake (though glamorous) blond hair and multiple pairs of $200 jeans (I found them in a bag on the sidewalk during a snowstorm!), that ain’t worth much, is it?
And on the other hand, if I knew how to put it on like my friend Elena the professional make-up artist, I might wear it more often. But why is my freakin’ face, unadorned, such a fashion sin? And don’t get me started on FDS! [Note: it's the last on the list that link goes to--and geesh, it's like they couldn't even stand the smell long enough to fix the typo!] Probably invented by some guy to make his girlfriend feel bad because she… OK, we are so not going there. It’s not good when I want to start using words like snatch. But hey, since this is a blog about felines, I knew a guy who named his cat that. It all comes around.
I don’t think Snatch was a Siamese tho.