What I'm Thankful For

Friends—or should I say “Accomplices who have let me live in captivity against my will without trying to rescue me”—it’s been a while since we’ve spoken and some good things have actually happened to me.

I mean, minus escaping Katie. For someone so stupid, she somehow manages to thwart every attempt. Must be dumb luck.

First off, deer hunting season started, which is great because I love looking at this all day.

On the plus side though, Katie might be accidentally shot so… I’ve at least got that going for me.

Also, Katie was climbing a tree the other day checking owl boxes and managed to scrape up her hand. Let’s face it; she had this one coming. Unless you are under the age of 12 or trying to escape from a crazed beast of the forest, you have no excuse to being climbing a tree. To make my feelings known, I spit in the open wound as she was sleeping.

 I think my urine has magical properties because the next day her had looked way worse

We also go our first legitimate snow here, which basically means Katie will begin hibernation. Not like she was all that active to begin with but when temperatures dip below freezing, Katie curls up with a “book” (crappy tv), a cup of “cider” (either Mountain Dew which is doing its best to give her negative bone density or Bailey’s because she’s a 70 year old man), and a “blanket” (in this case “blanket” actually does mean “blanket”). I’m hoping either her body atrophies to the point of death or she wanders outside and dies of hypothermia. I’m not picky. Either would work for me.

We also went to Minneapolis for Thanksgiving which basically meant another 11 hour drive just to eat ridiculous amounts of food. Thankfully, this trip we didn’t have to listen to Paula Abdul “Straight Up” at all. Either Katie finally got sick of that song or she finally realized she is not a black woman living in the late 80’s.

Here I am with Diego, Katie's mentally challenged polar bear. More about him next week 

We drove up with Katie’s parents named Ken and Barb. Yes, like Ken and Barb(ie). Don’t call them that though. Seriously. I learned that the hard way and am still picking paint chips out of my ass. They’re very nice in the “we’ve-been-married-for-over-20-years-and-still-love-each-other-way.” Frankly, it’s disgusting.

While in Minnesota, I reconnected with Katie’s aunt, uncle, and cousin whom I had met earlier. I also met another aunt and cousin of hers. None of that is very interesting but I did meet Bruce. Bruce is a wonderful plastic dinosaur who understood my plight like no one else.

 Best friends for life 

He too was sold into slavery by Katie (who this time bought him for her cousin, Danielle). I don’t envy his future. We had fun bonding over this and Katie finally won some brownie points with her creation of the most amoral, sacrilegious ginger bread village I have ever seen. I can’t even do it justice with words so just look at this masterpiece her and her cousins created.

 Bruce destroying a snowman, dead hooker hanging from roof, and giraffe eating a pot leaf. Merry Christmas

 My poop, dead lion, stabbed man, person snorting coke. 'Tis the season

 Close up of the dead man as well as Katie's surprisingly good drawing of a menorah

And for those of you wondering, I was pooping in front of a house that had a menorah in front of it. And before all you ACLU-types get up in arms, it wasn’t a hate crime; it was a simple neighborhood dispute…about our Christmas tree and their menorah.

Anyway, I’m currently back in Buffalo and in surprisingly good spirits. Thanksgiving taught me to be thankful for life and Black Friday taught me to go after what I want. Sometimes, in going after what we want, people get in our way. When they get in our way, it is acceptable to remove them in any manner we see fit.

Let’s just say, Katie is in my way… but she won’t be for long.

Until next week, I’m Ivan Denisovich. God bless.

The World's Longest Two Weeks

It’s been two weeks since I last spoke to you. In that time, I’ve spent over 22 hours in a car with Katie.

TWENTY. TWO. HOURS.

If I wasn’t clinically depressed before, I most definitely am now.

We started last week in Buffalo where Katie apparently felt the need to go on another nature walk. She spends most of her days just sitting around but every once in a while gets it in her head that she’s going to go be active. It’s like she thinks she’s in a Patagonia commercial (let’s be real though, she doesn’t have the looks to pull that off). Anyway, can someone explain to me how someone with Katie’s sense of direction and complete lack of a fight or flight response has not managed to die in the wilderness? I mean, the minute we get out of eyesight of the car there’s a 50/50 chance that she won’t be able to find her way back. I’m just waiting for the day that her getting lost and a gigantic blizzard happen at the same time. With her lack of fat and/or muscle, she’d freeze in 20 minutes and then I’d be freeeeeeee.

I should have just jumped into the fire and ended it all 

In the middle of last week, however, Katie decided she needed to drive to Minneapolis. Am I the only one who wonders how she manages to support this nomadic lifestyle with her zero dollar a year salary? She’s probably a drug dealer. Or a prostitute. Just kidding. No one would pay for that.

For those of you who don’t know, Minneapolis is 11 hours from Buffalo and even though Katie decided to split that up into two days, spending that much time in a car with her is painful. Like someone-shoving-red-hot-razor-blades-into-your-temple painful.

You think I’m exaggerating? She has a playlist that she listens to every time she drives further than a half an hour and for anyone under the delusion that she has good taste in music… she doesn’t. Seriously. If I have to listen to Paula Abdul’s “Straight Up” one more time there is going to be a blood bath.

It’s not even like we went anywhere cool in Minnesota. We went to the U of M campus to visit Lexi and I finally discovered one thing I hate more than Katie: college students. Just kidding. I don’t hate anyone more than Katie but seeing drunk, slutty girls and flat-brim hat wearing frat boys makes me wonder why America’s voting age is 18. I wouldn’t trust a single person I saw at that campus to cast a ballot. I did get to meet my long lost (and butt ugly) brother while there.

While there, we went to 2 different concerts. And when I say “different” I mean, basically as far on each end of the spectrum you could be. The first night we saw Ben Gibbard who played an acoustic guitar and sang about being depressed for an hour and half. The next night we saw Sleigh Bells. I don’t really know how to describe their sound other than by saying it’s like someone swinging a chainsaw by your right ear while simultaneously screaming in your left one.

This is Ben Gibbard. Katie took this picture. Why is she incapable of doing anything right?

Sleigh Bells. My only comment... WTF

I just do not understand Katie and her music. Really the only common denominator I saw between these two was that most of the audience was probably on some drug. Weed for Ben Gibbard’s audience and, judging from the behavior which made chimps looks well-behaved, bath-salts or ecstasy or some back-woods meth for the Sleigh Bells audience.

She spent the next night with an aunt and uncle in Minneapolis who, although they took her out for dinner and told her she could stay with them as long as she wanted, were clearly counting down hours until she was gone. Unfortunately for them, they have to see her again at Thanksgiving. I told them they should move, get an unlisted number, and cut all ties from their old life. That’s the only way to escape Katie. I may not have that chance but I have to do all I can to keep this from happening to anyone else. (Note to self: look into setting up a support group or non-profit for people hurt by knowing Katie)

We swung through Pierre on our way back so we could go to dinner to celebrate Paula’s birthday. While Tova was supposed to come, she said she was “sick.” Clearly she is starting to wise up and is trying to extract herself from Katie’s poisonous personality. She loses out on Mother of the Year, however, because she allowed Emry and Mariah to go alone. What kind of parent knowingly sends their children to see Katie?! I, however, was happy about it. It allowed me to reconnect with the only person on the planet who I actually like, Mariah. I don’t want to spoil the surprise but we came up with some really awesome new ways to kill Katie. Also, she nearly made Katie cry with one perfectly executed look of derision.

 Mariah was most likely smirking after causing Katie to cry AGAIN

I wish I could say I was as happy about seeing Emry but she insists on pretending to like Katie and, I’m sorry, but I refuse to be friends with someone like that. Not to mention, she made me prance all over the table like I was a show cat. I mean, I know I’m good looking but it just made me feel like a piece of meat at an auction. It’s going to take some pretty extensive psychotherapy to get over that humiliation.

 Look at how humiliating this is for me!

We were also in Pierre so Katie could vote in the election. It’s funny because in the days leading up to the election she took to facebook and twitter in bathed in self-importance and told people to go out and vote because of their “shared” future. What a joke. Anyone who knows Katie at all knows that she is a miserable, selfish, egotistical piece of steaming feces who could care less about anyone but herself. When Obama (the nazi, socialist, communist) was re-elected, Katie was happy about it. Not a surprise. Since she’s living off her parents now, it’s only a matter of time before she is sucking on the teat of government.

As for me? I could care less about the election. After all, I am a cat. Anyway, until next week, I’m Ivan Denisovich. God bless.