fun

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Peer Pressure

This might be surprising to you, but I talk to people. I talk to people at work and online and while I’m out and about. I know, right!? I’m just as shocked as you are. These conversations are varied and cover a lot of ground and generally work to highlight my social ineptness. People loooovvve to talk about their personal lives? Have you noticed that!?  Yeah. So anyway, I’ve been privy to a great deal more information that I would ever in my life want to know about people, but it’s not as though you could just cover your ears, yell NOOOOO and walk away. I’ve tried. I was told it was rude.

The one thing I find fascinating though is just how active people my age are… now I’m not yet ready for a senior living development but I’m also not a spring chicken. What the hell is a spring chicken anyway? Aren’t ALL chickens spring chickens, when you really think about it… I mean, given their own druthers, that’s when they would be born, just like with all birds, right? However, you might be interested to know, that it’s not a matter of when they’re born, but when they’re eaten that denotes a spring chicken. Go figure.

But I digress.

These people I talk to, they enjoy telling others about all their activities and accomplishments. I mean, of course they do, right? And they’re my age, just so we’ve made that clear. Rock climbing, mountain climbing, cross country skiing, extreme hiking… you name it, they do it.  And me? I’m over here trying to put on my underwear without toppling over. But nobody ever wants to hear about that.

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Feline Musings for a Sunday Evening

It’s that time during your otherwise enjoyable Sunday evening when it hits you that the weekend is over and you’re trying desperately to hide from Monday but deep in your heart you know that it’s just going to come around no matter how hard you try to keep it at bay, it always does, and besides, your hiding spot has holes in it so no matter how quiet you are, Monday would see you anyway and then you remember that you’re a cat so who even cares about Mondays, and you breathe a sigh of relief cause being a cat is cool, and you decide you kinda like your new hiding spot despite the holes that give away your position and in fact, the holes make it interesting and at least you don’t have Monday to worry about cause, you know… you’re a cat. And cats are cool.

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Water, Water Everywhere nor any Funnel Cake to Eat

Dearest Journal,

Do you remember the day I went to the waterpark? It was … interesting. As you know (because you’re my Journal and I’ve written in you before, so you know all my secrets of course) I’m a raging introvert with the patience of a gnat. That’s just who I am. Needless to say, the waterpark has always been the ultimate test of my resolve.

The place was so busy! But then, it always is. Therein lies my problem. Packs of people everywhere! I don’t like people, as a general rule. But then, I don’t have to tell you, do I Journal? I felt like I spent more time wading through people than wading through water. And to make it worse, there seemed to be so many wayward children with sticky hands roaming through the throngs of people like bored jackals because, guess what Journal?  Their parents weren’t watching them properly and were instead, sailing down the “lazy river,” and having unleashed their hell spawn upon the world, were casually sipping their strawberry smoothies while floating along on their blow-up flamingos, not a care in the world. Certainly no cares were had for their grubby-handed offspring.

As I was waiting to go down the main slide, I suddenly found myself asking: “Where the hell did this GOO on my leg come from!?” I searched the gang of jackals children milling about, but could not pinpoint the perpetrator. Oh, not to worry, I’m about to go down a waterslide, I thought. That’ll surely get this blackberry jelly (my sincere hope) off my leg, I told myself.

Nope. After going down the slide and getting back out of the water, it was still there.

Superglue jelly. What a novel concept.

What is this stuff anyway, I asked, some kind of resin? What kind of parent lets their gooey kid walk around unleashed with clumps of resin in their hands? I don’t need no myrrh and frankincense stuck to my leg! I went to the waterpark for a good time, not to have random who-knows-what stuck to my appendages. If I wanted that, I’d go swim at the beach and get a jellyfish stuck to my ankle. Or I’d swim in a leech-infested lake. I want to have fun and all, but, at least for me personally, that doesn’t involve having miscellaneous things involuntarily glued to my skin by children who aren’t even mine.

Going down the waterslide is an experience in itself. You walk all the way up these rickety little stairs to get to the top of the ride, all the time high on the scent of heavy-duty chlorine. And people are constantly packing in, waiting impatiently for the chance to spend a few seconds whizzing down a plastic tube.

Sometimes people whizz literally. No, really Journal, they do.

I got back to the food area after visiting the ladies’ room where I had finally chipped the jelly resin off my leg and was feeling a bit peckish after the extreme yoga moves required to pee without needing a subsequent round of heavy-duty antibiotics. Aha, funnel cake! My old friend! The very thing that makes coming to an amusement park worthwhile. I bought a piece and found a quiet spot to just sit down and relax for a moment, away from the throbbing maelstrom that was the rest of the park. Like I said, I’m an introvert. I have the patience of a gnat. And like a gnat, I need time to rest. All that flapping up and down the stairs and flailing down the waterslides — while trying to keep all of the important bits inside of a swimsuit, can exhaust an irritable shy little thing like me! But funnel cake would sustain me, revive me even. I mean, you know me and funnel cake, dear Journal.

So I sat down, and for a brief moment I rejoiced in being able to hear myself think for the first time in a good many hours (without my ears being clogged with water, without the chlorine forever desperate to punch me in the medulla oblongata, without goo on my legs, without people playing “Who can I get away with elbowing” on the waterslide stairs).

And then lo and behold! A bird, from out of nowhere, I couldn’t tell you which one, swooped down and stole my funnel cake right out of my hand!

I’d like to say I watched as the feathered beast flew away into the distance till it was nothing more than a little speck and that I reflected upon that moment as it went, but there was no time. In seconds, a throng of jackals children swamped the food area and I looked down at my leg once more to see it covered in peanut butter. Now why did I get rid of that mysterious jelly from earlier, I thought to myself. I could have had a sandwich!