First of all, I gotta say the name of my blog plagued me a bit yesterday. I'm attempting to stress upon my users the idea that I refuse to befriend anyone greater than or equal to my level of cat-crazy. I am not, however, telling you to love cats less than you love me. In fact, I'm all about people loving cats more than they love me. Have at it, folks! And no, I won't be changing my blog to Must Love Cats (Less Than I) because that's weird.
I've concluded that for those who don't know me, you really learned nothing about why I created a blog with the previously mentioned title. Hold your horses, people, it's comin!
I am a cat mommy to two little gems, Carlton and Mustacho. I adopted them from an awesome agency, Arden's Arc in Baltimore. If you're looking for some furry babies, check them out. Who could say no to these faces?!?! My boys are on the far right, Carlton is the rather retarded looking white kitty, and Mustacho is hiding next to his brother. I originally was interested in the little product of their mother's whoredom (one kitty does not look like the others ...) or the kitty in the middle with the prominent bow tie mustache, but some bratty little boy made it clear that they were his. Tough titties for him, I got the two best.
Personality-wise, my boy are not your average sleeping, pooping, eating, boring cats. I'm not gonna lie, they do a lot of sleeping, pooping, and eating ... but they honestly have personalities (and awesome ones at that)! For example, at the moment Mustacho is screaming at me like a lunatic to play with his latest obsession, a raccoon looking cat toy. Carlton is rolling around frantically begging for me to rub his belly. My old roommate, Lizzy G, says that cats adapt to the personalities of their owners and I completely agree. My boys know I'm obsessed with them, they're just complying to my wishes.
Ok, snap back friends, I promise I'll try to bring up my random thoughts for the day now!
I was considering how I lied and said that I don't sing to my cats. I must confess ... I sing to them all the time. Before you start to pity me (and my neighbors), you have to know that I live alone, and I get bored. I've always had a weird habit of inserting other people's names into songs (my poor roommates in college fell victim to this habit very frequently). Yesterday I was listing to Pandora and the classic tune "Lolli Lolli (Pop That Body)" by Three 6 Mafia popped on. Of course I started jammin out (how could I not?!) and started singing my revised lyrics to Carlton (his nickname--among others--is Cawey): Cawey cawey pop that body!
Frightened yet? Don't worry, it gets worse. I started thinking about my favorite song to sing to him: Cawey cawey piiiieeeee. This came from one of my customers at the bar where I work on the weekend, who happens to have a lot of very exciting party tricks (like hand tricks and songs to sing to a group). My favorite trick of hers is a song that she sings "rhubarb rhubarb pieeee," which I think is from some musical or commercial from 70s or something. I couldn't find a clip of it, but I did find this beautiful song (start at about 0:30). The song that I sing also applies to Mustacho with his nickname (Moosey moosey piieeee).
So let's retrace this odd timeline:
Cat Lady is "working" and listening to Pandora--> Three 6 Mafia's "Lolli Lolli" comes on--> Cat Lady starts jammin out--> Cat Lady thinks of Carlton and sings "cawey cawey pop that body"--> Cat Lady thinks of her favorite song to sing to Carlton (cawey cawey piiieeee)--> Cat Lady attempts to find out where her customer discovered the rhubarb song--> Cat Lady finds the YouTube clip and cracks up.
Wow. And thoughts like this cross my mind all the time! No wonder I draw impossible conclusions about everything.
I'm still trying to figure out the exact purpose for this blog. Perhaps it's for a little creative energy to be released. Perhaps it's to highlight the amazing lives of Carlton and Mustacho. Regardless, I hope you enjoy.
Peace out, bitches.
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