Wednesday, August 17, 2005 Friday catblogging!
For various reasons, I have a tattoo of a black cat Halloweening (family word, means what you think) on my upper arm. People ask what it means, and sometimes I tell them, and sometimes it doesn't seem worth it, because the thing it means for me is that 18 year olds are impulsive. A few weeks ago a man that Tracy and I were involved in a game of pool with was drunk, and he kept grabbing my arm and meowing and hissing at the tattoo. I guess he thought it was a real cat, and he was trying to make it even madder than it already seemed to be. I say he kept doing it, because he did it twice, and each time the meowing and hissing went on for thrity second intervals. The duration! The frequency! He will be asked to pose for an inspirational office poster for DEDICATION. He will be pictured standing triumphantly atop a rocky crag at sunset, pestering my arm.
Later I told Tracy that the tattoo is like a mood ring that reflects whatever my emotional state is in a given moment, and whenever my current mood is anything other than "reeeow!", the image will change to something more suitable, but that this has never happened. Now my personal terror alert feels higher, but I keep checking my arm, and the tattoo is still just a cat, so things pretty much have to be OK.
Earlier today I was standing outside my workplace, waiting for one of the keyholders (keyholders: gatekeepers:demons in the fridge--get it? No? If it's too loud, you're too old.) and bitching about aspects in common of our dumb lives with one of my co workers (She hates the bus!) when the hulking lunatic who haunts the block near my work came pacing by, scowling. "Suck DICK!" he told the village. My co worker and I agreed: it was going to be one of those days. Later, I had to go to the nearby bank and get change, and I usually love that ritual, because I get rockstar treatment at the bank, but I failed the "avoiding the possibly dangerous lunatic during a one-block journey" challenge so bad. I zigged and zagged, and although he was not following me, everywhere I went, there he was. I thought I'd outsmarted him on the was back, because I was going around the long way. Just as I was about to turn the corner and congratualte myself, he popped up again, in all his red-faced toeheaded glory. He was using his regular voice and asking someone for change, but I still freaked out (Rrrrreow! Puff puff puff!) and practically ran back to the beauty parlor.
Last night, what turned out to be my final night of housesitting for David was interrupted when a stranger rang the doorbell at 3 a.m.. When Tracy anc I came down and stared through the window at him, he said, "Wrong house, y'all. Wrong house." I couldn't figure out if he was mistaken for real, or if he was trying to pre-crime. That ruined sleep for a while, and I dragged all morning at work today.
Yesterday, I tried to hand a man a haircut card. "What's this?" he asked. I explained that once he got ten stamps, his eleventh haircut was free. "That is terrifying!" he said with disdain. I continued being polite to him, but I stopped smiling. posted by Frenz | 8/17/2005 11:21:00 PM
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