My gym is called Will's. As in You Don't Have the WILLSpower to go to the gym.
Will mocks me. In the taxi, I look the opposite direction. But Will is always there. Taunting.
I see you there. In the taxi. Looking the other way. Pretending you don't know I'm here. Pretending you've forgotten our whispered promises to one another. You can look the other way. But I'm here. Remembering you. Remembering how it was when we were together. And now we are each alone. Neither forgotten nor forgiven. So go, then. Go to your fancy grocery store. Eat at Burger King. See if I care. There. I see you looking in the rear view mirror. Smirking. Pretending all our time together meant nothing. But I know better. Those two 20-minute sessions were the most precious moments of my life. And you shouldn't pretend they meant nothing to you. Cruel, cruel woman.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Mookie the Cootie Cat
Let me set the scene:
Two adults go out on a date. They have a great dinner, see a movie, and stop for a drink. Or three. By the time they come home at 11:30, they are very tired and, as our story will reveal, perhaps a bit drunker than they think. They just want to get some sleep. Said adults get ready to go to bed and she sees something on the sheet of the unmade bed.
"I think your cat threw up some string," she said. "ON MY SIDE." She finished.
"Why is he my cat only when he's bad?"
"Those are the rules," she says.
He comes into the room and leans in to see the puked-up string. "I don't think that's string," he said. "I think that's worms or something."
And then the screaming began....
SHE: WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN IT'S WORMS? DO YOU REALLY THINK MOOKIE PUKED WORMS? HOW DID HE GET WORMS? HOW LONG HAS HE HAD THEM? DO YOU THINK THIS IS WHY HE'S SO CRAZY? COULD IT ALL HAVE BEEN WORMS?
He: I have no idea how he got worms. And why do you assume it's Mookie?
She: It's always Mookie.
He: True. What should we do?
SHE: HELLO? WHAT SHOULD WE DO? YOU NEED TO PACKAGE THAT UP AND TAKE IT TO THE VET AND FIND OUT BECAUSE WE CAN'T HAVE WORMY ANIMALS AROUND HERE. IS IT CONTAGIOUS? DO YOU THINK WE HAVE WORMS? OH MY FUCKING GOD, I THINK WE HAVE WORMS. WE DEFINITELY HAVE WORMS. NO, WAIT. IF YOU HAVE WORMS YOU LOSE WEIGHT BECAUSE THE WORM EATS THE FOOD, RIGHT? YEAH, I THINK THERE'S A WHOLE DIET BASED ON THAT, THE TAPEWORM DIET. BUT THOSE DON'T LOOK LIKE TAPEWORMS THOSE LOOK LIKE CURLY STRINGS. AND I DON' THINK THAT'S A VERY GOOD WAY TO DIET; I THINK IF YOU ARE FOLLOWING THAT DIET, YOU HAVE SOME SERIOUS ISSUES.
He: I think you are getting a little hysterical. Now, are you going to get something to put it in?
SHE: OF COURESE I'M HYSTERICAL! WORMS. ON THE BED. AND YES I'M GOING TO FIND SOMETHING TO PUT THAT IN.
She runs downstairs and he proceeds to do whatever the hell guys do in the bathroom. Note: don't go to that dark place, readers. We're not that kind of family.
She arrives with a giant freezer bag. He emerges from the bathroom with a Q-Tip and begins gently probing the Mystery Organism with it. She waits about an hour (or three seconds) for him to be done playing with it and starts to scoop it up with the freezer bag.
HE: CAN YOU JUST WAIT A MINUTE FOR ME TO GET ANOTHER Q-TIP AND PUSH IT IN THE BAG?
SHE: NO I CAN'T. I HAVE TO GET THIS OFF OF OUR BED RIGHT THIS SECOND BEFORE IT LAYS EGGS AND WE END UP SLEEPING ON A MATTRESS INFESTED WITH WORMS.
He ignores her and goes back to the bathroom for another Q-Tip. She continues to scoop it up into the bag.
She: You better take this to the vet tomorrow.
He: I will.
She: You better not forget. You forget things, you know.
He: I will not forget.
She leaves and puts the bag on top of his car keys.
She returns and he's back in the bathroom. She takes the fitted sheet off.
He: What are you doing?
SHE: OH MY FRIGGIN GOD. WE CAN'T SLEEP ON THAT!
HE: DO YOU THINK WE SHOULD SLEEP IN THE EXTRA BEDROOM?
SHE: YES! YES! HOW COULD WE POSSIBLY SLEEP IN HERE?
He: OK
SHE: BUT WE CAN'T SLEEP IN THERE BECAUSE LEO'S BEEN CRATED ALL DAY AND NIGHT AND HE CAN'T GO BACK IN THERE BECAUSE IT'S MEAN AND HE CAN'T GO INTO THE EXTRA BEDROOM BECAUSE HE ALWAYS MARKS IN THERE AND I'M SICK OF IT SO WE HAVE TO SLEEP IN HERE. BUT I'M NOT SLEEPING ON THE CONTAMINATED SIDE. YOUR CAT, YOU SLEEP ON THE INFESTED SIDE.
HE: BUT I HATE THAT SIDE. I HAVE TO SLEEP ON MY SIDE.
SHE: TOO BAD. YOUR CAT THREW UP WORMS. YOU HAVE TO SLEEP ON THE WORMED SIDE.
HE: ARE YOU GOING TO WASH ALL OF THE BEDDING?
She: Well, let's not lose our heads; the puke only touched the fitted sheet.
She leaves and comes back with Lysol Disinfectant Wipes and wipes down the area on the mattress and then walks into his bathroom and throws them in the general direction of his garbage can.
HE: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
SHE: HE'S YOUR CAT, YOU SHOULD HAVE TO HAVE THE WIPES CONTAMINATED WITH HIS DISEASE IN YOUR BATHROOM UNTIL WE TAKE THE GARBAGE OUT?
HE: THAT'S FUCKED UP.
SHE: WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS IN HERE?
HE: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?
SHE: YOU ARE CONSTANTLY IN YOUR BATHROOM SCREWING AROUND.
HE: I AM NOT. AND STOP SCREAMING, YOU ARE SCARING LEO.
SHE: LEO POOPED IN MY BATHROOM LAST WEEK; HE SHOULD BE MUCH MORE SCARED OF ME. AND YOU'RE SCREAMING TOO. YOU MIGHT BE MORE HYSTERICAL THAN ME.
HE: ARE YOU GOING TO KEEP STANDING IN THE DOORWAY BECAUSE I AM DONE WITH MY BATHROOM DUTIES NOW.
She runs from the bathroom doorway and jumps onto his side of the bed.
He walks around to his side of the bed, crawls in over her and proceeds to push her to the edge as he positions himself fully on his side of the bed. Leo sniffs the contamination zone. Meanwhile, Mookie the Cootie Cat is nowhere to be found.
SHE: STOP BREATHING ON ME.
HE: GET OUT OF MY SIDE OF THE BED.
SHE: WE MIGHT HAVE TO BUY A NEW MATTRESS.
HE: WE ARE NOT BUYING A NEW MATTRESS.
SHE: WHAT IF WE HAVE WORMS?
He: Now you're just repeating yourself. We've already discussed that.
SHE: BUT YOU NEVER ANSWERED. DOES THAT MEAN YOU THINK WE DO? DOES IT?
He: I'm going to sleep.
SHE: YOU BETTER NOT PUSH ME OUT OF THE BED.
He: Are you going to stop screaming.
SHE: MAYBE. BUT BEFORE I DO, JUST REMEMBER THIS: HE'S YOUR CAT, HE LOVES YOU, HE LIKES TO SNUGGLE WITH YOU, ON YOUR FACE, AT NIGHT. AND HE'S PUKING WORMS. SLEEP WELL.
He: That's just mean.
She: I think I might be a little bit drunk.
He starts to snore.
Two adults go out on a date. They have a great dinner, see a movie, and stop for a drink. Or three. By the time they come home at 11:30, they are very tired and, as our story will reveal, perhaps a bit drunker than they think. They just want to get some sleep. Said adults get ready to go to bed and she sees something on the sheet of the unmade bed.
"I think your cat threw up some string," she said. "ON MY SIDE." She finished.
"Why is he my cat only when he's bad?"
"Those are the rules," she says.
He comes into the room and leans in to see the puked-up string. "I don't think that's string," he said. "I think that's worms or something."
And then the screaming began....
SHE: WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN IT'S WORMS? DO YOU REALLY THINK MOOKIE PUKED WORMS? HOW DID HE GET WORMS? HOW LONG HAS HE HAD THEM? DO YOU THINK THIS IS WHY HE'S SO CRAZY? COULD IT ALL HAVE BEEN WORMS?
He: I have no idea how he got worms. And why do you assume it's Mookie?
She: It's always Mookie.
He: True. What should we do?
SHE: HELLO? WHAT SHOULD WE DO? YOU NEED TO PACKAGE THAT UP AND TAKE IT TO THE VET AND FIND OUT BECAUSE WE CAN'T HAVE WORMY ANIMALS AROUND HERE. IS IT CONTAGIOUS? DO YOU THINK WE HAVE WORMS? OH MY FUCKING GOD, I THINK WE HAVE WORMS. WE DEFINITELY HAVE WORMS. NO, WAIT. IF YOU HAVE WORMS YOU LOSE WEIGHT BECAUSE THE WORM EATS THE FOOD, RIGHT? YEAH, I THINK THERE'S A WHOLE DIET BASED ON THAT, THE TAPEWORM DIET. BUT THOSE DON'T LOOK LIKE TAPEWORMS THOSE LOOK LIKE CURLY STRINGS. AND I DON' THINK THAT'S A VERY GOOD WAY TO DIET; I THINK IF YOU ARE FOLLOWING THAT DIET, YOU HAVE SOME SERIOUS ISSUES.
He: I think you are getting a little hysterical. Now, are you going to get something to put it in?
SHE: OF COURESE I'M HYSTERICAL! WORMS. ON THE BED. AND YES I'M GOING TO FIND SOMETHING TO PUT THAT IN.
She runs downstairs and he proceeds to do whatever the hell guys do in the bathroom. Note: don't go to that dark place, readers. We're not that kind of family.
She arrives with a giant freezer bag. He emerges from the bathroom with a Q-Tip and begins gently probing the Mystery Organism with it. She waits about an hour (or three seconds) for him to be done playing with it and starts to scoop it up with the freezer bag.
HE: CAN YOU JUST WAIT A MINUTE FOR ME TO GET ANOTHER Q-TIP AND PUSH IT IN THE BAG?
SHE: NO I CAN'T. I HAVE TO GET THIS OFF OF OUR BED RIGHT THIS SECOND BEFORE IT LAYS EGGS AND WE END UP SLEEPING ON A MATTRESS INFESTED WITH WORMS.
He ignores her and goes back to the bathroom for another Q-Tip. She continues to scoop it up into the bag.
She: You better take this to the vet tomorrow.
He: I will.
She: You better not forget. You forget things, you know.
He: I will not forget.
She leaves and puts the bag on top of his car keys.
She returns and he's back in the bathroom. She takes the fitted sheet off.
He: What are you doing?
SHE: OH MY FRIGGIN GOD. WE CAN'T SLEEP ON THAT!
HE: DO YOU THINK WE SHOULD SLEEP IN THE EXTRA BEDROOM?
SHE: YES! YES! HOW COULD WE POSSIBLY SLEEP IN HERE?
He: OK
SHE: BUT WE CAN'T SLEEP IN THERE BECAUSE LEO'S BEEN CRATED ALL DAY AND NIGHT AND HE CAN'T GO BACK IN THERE BECAUSE IT'S MEAN AND HE CAN'T GO INTO THE EXTRA BEDROOM BECAUSE HE ALWAYS MARKS IN THERE AND I'M SICK OF IT SO WE HAVE TO SLEEP IN HERE. BUT I'M NOT SLEEPING ON THE CONTAMINATED SIDE. YOUR CAT, YOU SLEEP ON THE INFESTED SIDE.
HE: BUT I HATE THAT SIDE. I HAVE TO SLEEP ON MY SIDE.
SHE: TOO BAD. YOUR CAT THREW UP WORMS. YOU HAVE TO SLEEP ON THE WORMED SIDE.
HE: ARE YOU GOING TO WASH ALL OF THE BEDDING?
She: Well, let's not lose our heads; the puke only touched the fitted sheet.
She leaves and comes back with Lysol Disinfectant Wipes and wipes down the area on the mattress and then walks into his bathroom and throws them in the general direction of his garbage can.
HE: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
SHE: HE'S YOUR CAT, YOU SHOULD HAVE TO HAVE THE WIPES CONTAMINATED WITH HIS DISEASE IN YOUR BATHROOM UNTIL WE TAKE THE GARBAGE OUT?
HE: THAT'S FUCKED UP.
SHE: WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS IN HERE?
HE: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?
SHE: YOU ARE CONSTANTLY IN YOUR BATHROOM SCREWING AROUND.
HE: I AM NOT. AND STOP SCREAMING, YOU ARE SCARING LEO.
SHE: LEO POOPED IN MY BATHROOM LAST WEEK; HE SHOULD BE MUCH MORE SCARED OF ME. AND YOU'RE SCREAMING TOO. YOU MIGHT BE MORE HYSTERICAL THAN ME.
HE: ARE YOU GOING TO KEEP STANDING IN THE DOORWAY BECAUSE I AM DONE WITH MY BATHROOM DUTIES NOW.
She runs from the bathroom doorway and jumps onto his side of the bed.
He walks around to his side of the bed, crawls in over her and proceeds to push her to the edge as he positions himself fully on his side of the bed. Leo sniffs the contamination zone. Meanwhile, Mookie the Cootie Cat is nowhere to be found.
SHE: STOP BREATHING ON ME.
HE: GET OUT OF MY SIDE OF THE BED.
SHE: WE MIGHT HAVE TO BUY A NEW MATTRESS.
HE: WE ARE NOT BUYING A NEW MATTRESS.
SHE: WHAT IF WE HAVE WORMS?
He: Now you're just repeating yourself. We've already discussed that.
SHE: BUT YOU NEVER ANSWERED. DOES THAT MEAN YOU THINK WE DO? DOES IT?
He: I'm going to sleep.
SHE: YOU BETTER NOT PUSH ME OUT OF THE BED.
He: Are you going to stop screaming.
SHE: MAYBE. BUT BEFORE I DO, JUST REMEMBER THIS: HE'S YOUR CAT, HE LOVES YOU, HE LIKES TO SNUGGLE WITH YOU, ON YOUR FACE, AT NIGHT. AND HE'S PUKING WORMS. SLEEP WELL.
He: That's just mean.
She: I think I might be a little bit drunk.
He starts to snore.
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