Never Trust Cat People

Dear Future Me:

No, seriously. Cat people have feeeeeeelllings and we all know how I feel about people who let their weakness glands get the best of them. Sure, I’m kind of a bitch and I spend most of my time yelling at people on facebook and I had to quit Twitter when I realized that I had nothing important to say but at least I don’t tell long-winded stories about the adorable things Mister Whiskers has killed and left under my bed.

Okay, okay, so I tell long-winded stories about my dogs but at least they actually care if I live or die. If your cats could replace you with a feeding-petting-litter scooping robot they would do it in a second and wouldn’t even feel bad about it. In fact, they would probably relish in it. Because cats are fucking evil. And cat people have entirely too many feelings.

Also, books are dangerous. I just picked up a new Vonnegut and I remember why I don’t read fiction much: because good fiction makes you hate everything. Because good fiction writers have spent most of their lives watching people fuck around, cat people AND dog people (and ferret people and goldfish people) and have concluded the inevitable: we are all going to hell in a greyhound, and the guy next to you fell asleep on your shoulder and has started drooling.

Vonnegut saw humanity and the pieces that didn’t fit and the part and particles that interacted so poorly and all the constant intentional pain we cause each other and somehow, out of all of that, concluded that we had to love each other, anyway. “The purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved.” The man is dead now. Most of my heroes are.

There isn’t really any point to this post. Also also, it warms the cockles of my heart that when I type “george” into the Youtube search box the great George Strait is STILL the first name that pops up. Say what you will about country music – most people already have – but the stuff makes me feel better. And the inveterate Mr. Vonnegut (and even cat people. But not cats. Those fuckers) would probably agree that sometimes feeling better is about the best we can do for ourselves or anybody else.

Ultimately I’ve realized that that’s what I basically do: improve things, marginally. Maybe only for one person. Maybe only for five minutes. Because people (and animals too) deserve some relief, once in a while. We all deserve some help, once in a while.

Other than books (which are dangerous) and cats and dogs and feelings and country music, I can tell you not much has been up. I did some dishes, which is an accomplishment. I’m dealing with my life, such as it is. It keeps surprising me. My addiction to coffee is spiraling out of control. I feel like I am on the precipice of something more important than feeelings or secrets or all the little people I’ve stepped on to get to the top…of this pile of people. Y’all are a squishy bunch, for reals.

I’m tempted to say something personal or profound or to hint at the complexities that have been spinning like diseased whirligigs in my mind, but frankly I have no desire to explain myself. And I suspect I have some explaining to do. But I’ll get to that eventually. It will all become clear in time. These are not the droids you’re looking for.

Plus, guess who has been watching movies? ME. Actually, mostly with cat people. I guess I need to stop complaining about them, huh? At least they have the attention span to sit and focus for more than fifteen minutes. You know what I’m bad at? Watching things I haven’t already seen. Who knows what’s going to happen?! That kind of stress is bad for you. Especially if you’re as boring as I am. But cat people, bless their souls, have been foisting culture upon me like so many warm and delicious pancake blankets. Thanks, I guess.

You know, many of my best friends are cat people. I guess their feeeeeelings balance out my propensity to chase my tail and then get dizzy and throw up and then eat it again. Wait, that never happened. Probably.

“I’m pretty forgiving of guys with big hair, because I love big hair. I just want to pet him like a Labrador.” – L

“I don’t think you ever dated a guy with big hair.” – S

“I don’t think she’s ever dated a Labrador, either. Although it would probably be the best relationship she ever has.” – J

“It would DEFINITELY be the best relationship I ever have. FACT.” – L

And that’s what my friends (cat people, the lot of them) and I talk about at 8:30 in the morning. I think Vonnegut would approve, especially the part later on where I made a bestiality joke. Before noon, motherfuckers. I am bad. ass.

Here’s to love and people and cats and dogs and dangerous books and bad music that makes you feel better,

Love,

Past Leslee.

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About leslei

Listen, I like to use the eff word. If that is going to be a problem you should probably just turn this car around RIGHT NOW.
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