What, Friday? Again?! Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the day where I foist, upon the unsuspecting readers of my blog, my demented belief that my iPod foretells the future.
What? Well of course it’s true! Would I say it if it weren’t? My iPod, set on “shuffle” and played during my morning commute has all the fresh, oracle-y powers of, say, a tea cup’s up-ended remnants or the jumbled spattering of rolled chicken bones…
Speed King by Deep Purple
Voodoo Cadillac by Southern Culture on the Skids
Two Against One by Danger Mouse (feat. Jack White)
L.O.V. by Fitz & The Tantrums
D is for Dangerous by Arctic Monkeys
Tiger Mountain Peasant Song by Fleet Foxes*
Theme from The Tiki Wonder Hour by Combustible Edison
Everybody Knows by Leonard Cohen
And there you have it. Avoid cars, the alphabet, hippies, and anything to do with brooding consciousness.
You can thank me later. I would not look askance at an offer of a free beer.
So! Do we have time for a cat story?
Because Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) is an absolute hoot, albeit a cruel one.
“Don’t look,” she hisses, her paw covering her mouth as she sips delicately from the Mai Tai she insists she have with lunch. “But I think I saw that woman over there suspended by guy wires and sandwiched between Mighty Mouse and a high school marching band at the last Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.”
Of course this sort of thing always makes me spit my beer out with laughter, even if it is inappropriate.
But what do you want from the world’s most dangerous kitteh?
For she truly is dangerous.
How else would I describe her, aside from “dangerous”? She is a small-pawed and symmetrically-striped kitty, a stealthy and bright-eyed kitty, a kitty capable of lifting your wallet while winding herself about your ankles.
A kitty with sharp eyes and a sharp tongue.
Sure we’ve had our issues. She has repeatedly cost me money (usually in the form of financial settlements in lieu of litigation) and she once dangled a gerbil on a string out the front window just to see how high the neighborhood cats could jump (for the record, the answer would be “quite high, really”).
We are sitting at Psycho Suzi’s, on the Tiki Deck. Summer has arrived, and with it Liza Bean’s penchant for umbrella-ed drinks. She sips, the straw held delicately between her little black lips. Tiny white teeth appear and disappear as she talks around the straw.
“I mean, really,” she says. “Are those pajama bottoms? One goes out in public, and one dresses for the occasion.” She laughs behind one well-manicured paw. “How much will you give me to go over there and tell her naptime’s over?”
How much will I give her? Nothing, of course, as I’m afraid she’ll do it for free.
The last fight she got in cost me the money I was saving for a flatscreen TV.
“Oh, never mind,” she purrs. “It’s too lovely a day.” Her eyes, half-lidded in the afternoon sun, glow an emerald green.
“We have cream at home, don’t we? I do so enjoy a little cream in the afternoon.” She sighs. “I just love these little outings. We really should do this more often.”
* Feeling mellow? This is a nice mellow song.
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