Friday, July 5, 2013

On being socially awkward: #forever alone

I can’t do a cartwheel.  Try as I might – I will one day go peacefully to my grave without ever achieving a single cartwheel.   If you must know, there are many fine motor skills that I never picked up on as a child.  

Handstand = impossible.  Hand/eye coordination = minimal.  Ball skills = pathetic.   

The list could go on.  Needless to say I have failed to thrive at every, and all of the random sports I’ve attempted to play both at school and as an adult beginner.   Recently I tried my hand at squash.  I had a few lessons, then started attending a Tuesday night tournament.  I was not only beaten by a 12 year old girl, but also a significantly overweight gentleman and an asthmatic.  True story.  Just goes to show, you don’t have to be an athlete to play squash, just better than me.

I’d never really thought too much about my lack of sporting prowess until a recent conversation I had with my mum when she casually mentioned her parental fail of leaving me as a wee toddler unattended near a flight of concrete stairs.
That would explain my weird shaped cranium.
Then it all came together…
… and I thought it was just in the genes.

I’ve long believed that something is wrong upstairs.  It’s mainly the social awkwardness that stands out like neon lights.  Just to illustrate:  Recently I found myself in a group situation filling an awkward silence with the sweet sound of my personal rendition of ‘kumbayah’.  Not only did my new friends not join in – but my beautiful singing had the effect of killing softy any further conversation.  Maybe they never went to scout camps.  Their loss.

The good thing about having cats as friends is that they never care.   About ANYTHING.  Richard wouldn’t bat a single eyelid if I sung ‘kumbayah’, if I laughed too loud or if I sung ‘sound of silence’ off key.  In fact – he probably wouldn't care AT ALL enough to even be in the room.

So if lately you have been feeling like even the asthmatics are beating you at squash and you fear your socially awkward charm will leave you hopelessly forever alone.  I have two suggestions:

1. Make some cat friends and

      2. Embrace your inner ‘kumbayah’ - (Just like Judith) 

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Ding Dong the CAT is... dead?

I have some bad news to share.  But don’t worry or think the worst.  Richard is not Dead (You can all breathe a sigh of relief now…)

Do you remember in the early years of high school when your friends were your World.  When if one of your best friends crossed you, you would say “You’re soooo dead to me right now!”  And you’d put your hand up like you were directing traffic. 


Well, neither can I.   It must have been one of those catchy phrases of the 90s.  
Maybe the Spice Girls said it.

Anyway, I digress.

The point is that I don’t think I LIKE Richard anymore.  The CAT-CAT LADY relationship might be over. 

It all started when I got a job.  Suddenly I didn’t have time to devote to Him and to write about Him on this very blog.  I must admit the honeymoon was over very quickly.

But I don’t think I’m ALL to blame for this.  About one month after moving in here, Richard started bringing ‘presents’ into the house.  Small birds, field mice, lizards.  

Some of them came in the dead variety, some in the almost dead variety, and some still hanging on.    
I must admit when it comes to little creatures, I can be a bit of a girl about it all.   
Screaming and dancing on the spot is usually how I cope with a creature in the house.  So, needless to say I didn’t really appreciate Richard’s ‘presents’. 

So we talked about it.  I told Him how I was feeling.  He said nothing and stared out the window.

Sigmund Freud once said:  “Time spent with cats is never wasted” 

Breakups are hard.  But I'm sure Richard will get over it soon enough.  After all, cat's have an amazing ability to not care what anyone else thinks.

More importantly, what about me?  How does this affect my status as “Cat Lady”.  
I can’t be a cat lady without at least one cat that loves me…

Spinster.  That’s what I’ll be.  I can knit you know!

‘Dead to me’
-The expression of such utter distaste for a person or object that it calls for the personal denial of its worldly existance. Can be used to express disintrest, hatred, or something/someone that has gone out of style.

“Torn jeans are so last season. They're dead to me.”

Sunday, March 3, 2013

A Short History of CATS (and a guinea pig)

It turns out that I was already into cat attire by the mid 80's...

(Note, I was also into cutting my own hair)

(Here my older sister seems perfectly happy with the idea of my brother stabbing her with a knife.
Me: I'm a little nervous about it all)

Even though I could dress like a cat by the time I was 3, I don't recall ever OWNING a cat back then.  
We had a goat and a dog.

The biggest hurdle to becoming a cat family was my dad.  He hated, hates and will forever hate cats.

One time we actually convinced the parents to take in a stray, but a few months later she mysteriously 'disappeared', never to be seen again.  I'm sure dad will confess one day.

Around that time we owned a dog and some guinea pigs.

Which brings me to this next photo that I've entitled: 


I'm probably 10 years old in this photo.  Note the red puffy eyes and tears on my cheeks.  Yes, the guinea pig is dead.  It was just a baby.  We thought that 'Nike' and 'Reebok' were both girls, but it turned out that they could produce some babies.  

I had gone to the hutch to check on the pups before heading off to school when I made the grim discovery.  Then the emotional breakdown happened.

It was like a family member had died.  I didn't feel like I could go to school.  I begged mum to take a photo of the little thing so we could remember.  

When mum looks at this photo she remembers trying not to laugh at me. 

Such are the feelings of a future cat lady.

The closest I got to lots of cats during my teenage years was at my cousin's house. They had Doozer, Louie, Beverley, Felix and Squishy.

Here's Felix hanging out in the cupboard:

After years and years of share-housing with no pets, I moved again and now have Richard.

One of the best things about being a cat lady is that I'm never alone.  Which is why the cat lady criteria exists.  People who are in any kind of relationship just don't qualify.

When I'm at home studying I don't feel lonely and it's always nice to have the cat to talk to.

I teach her Spanish words.  Which is nice... 

                                                   ...  because we all know that talking to oneself is just a LITTLE bit weird.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

CAT attire

Unpacking a few things this week I discovered some treasures.  Namely - these amazing cat earrings:

That same day I decided to wear one of my favourite t-shirts with said earrings...

Not so classy, but the common theme pulled the outfit together.

So then I started to think about how a REAL Cat Lady should dress. 
Is it appropriate, as Dal and Lissy suggest, to don a cat unitard?

As a new Cat Lady, am I staring down the barrel of a lifetime of bathrobes and pantyhose?

Like with all other questions of import, I went to the internet for answers and this time was sorely disappointed.

I searched for:

"What would a cat lady wear?"
"Cat attire for people"
"Cat apparel"

The best I got were websites trying to sell t-shirts with cats on them.

Etsy and Frankie had some cute cat accessories and clothes.

But let's be honest.  Do you think a REAL Cat Lady would ever wear this dress?

I didn't think so.  (Not at least without some pantyhose).

I didn't have any hopes of getting to the bottom of my cat attire question until I discovered this video:

Question answered!  Real cat ladies wear RED LIPSTICK!

Did you notice how clean her bathrobe was? and that headpiece... very classy.

What a relief.  Thank you Youtube.

It seems that REAL Cat Ladies dress for comfort AND style...

                       ...unitard NOT excluded.

Thursday, February 21, 2013


I remember the first time I heard the song 'Seventeen Years' by RATATAT.  It was while I was living with Renee and Nathan.  Nathan had a record player and the new vinyl album.

The song begins with "I've been rapping for about seventeen years ok..."  Back then, the song just made me want to DANCE!!!

Have you ever put a song on when no one is at home, cranked it up loud and just danced?

Inspired by Lissy's comments from last weeks blog and Hannah's favourite book 'Dancing with Cats'  (see below),  this week I felt I could step up my 'home-alone-dancing' and INCLUDE Richard.

I wanted to become a 'home-alone-rocking-out-with-a-cat-dancer'.  But.... did Richard share my dream?

The short answer is: NO.  I discovered that this cat doesn't have a dancing bone in her body.

Despite Richard's lack of enthusiasm for the project, I managed to get a few shots of me living the 'home-alone-rocking-out-with-a-cat' dream (artistic licence may have been used).

"Crouching cat hidden something"

"Cat  surprise!!"

"Crazy cat lady"

More awkward dance moves to be found here...

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Due to popular demand...

It was all a bit of a joke really.

I have a new housemate.  Her name is Richard and she's a cat.  Well, her name is really Charlie, but the first few days I couldn't remember her name so Charlie became Richard.  I haven't really had a lot to do with cats before, but being here in this new house with Richard has got me thinking...

Have I become a CAT LADY???

Let's go through the criteria:

1.  Must be single (possibly not ready to mingle)


2. Must live with a cat (not mandatory to own it)


3. Generally must never have plans for Friday night


4. Must be a little crazy/random/socially awkward


So looks like I score highly on the lady cat-o-meter
Obviously the facts don't lie.  But is it all bad?  Being a cat lady?

  You decide...