I Swear I'm Not a Cat Lady

For the past month or so, I have been inundated with Lolcats, funny cat videos, and wallposts involving all things cats, sent to me by friend, relatives, and acquaintances, to the point of saturation. For some reason I have become that person. The one that you default to when you find something hilarious involving cats that you are too ashamed to post on anyone else's facebook wall for fear of being publicly shamed. Guys: I AM NOT A CAT LADY. The lolcat thing was a phase, A PHASE I say!

Seriously. I mean, obviously cats are better than dogs, and yes I totally have one in my dorm room illegally, but it’s not as if I would like to cram ten plus cats into any sort of living space and actually be pleased with myself. My slight OCD would never allow me to do this. Not that I want to do that. No really guys. I don’t. 

This manages to both prove my respective points, and refute them

So with that out of the way, I would like to point out that there is a distinction between cat ladies and people who own cats. If you haven’t already guessed, I am in the second category.  So is Mark Twain. He wrote, “when a man loves cats, I am his friend and comrade, without further introduction.” You can’t argue with Mark Twain. He is exponentially cooler than you. 

Mark Twain, being cooler than you

Plus, I have loads of other interests.Yes, most of them are shamefully unmentionable (i.e. musical theater), but still - they exist. For your reading pleasure, here is a list of things I am more interested than cats:

1.     The Oscar telecast

2.     Streaming content on Netflix

3.     Snacks

4.   Sarcasm

5.     Occasional human interaction that may or may not include the previous four things

I realize this does not make me a healthy person. It DOES, however, prove that I am not a cat lady. YES IT DOES. Do not argue with my infallible logic. Here is a picture of Sad Keanu:

There is nothing strange about this picture.

 

 

Changing the subject gracefully (a word rarely used to describe me without the use of intense sarcasm), if you were wondering how my fateful return flight from New Orleans Spring Break 2011 went (you weren't, I know), I slept through most of it, despite the gargling baby-thing behind me. I swear, that child was only a few notes off from a spot-on Sméagol impression.  Scary stuff. Perhaps because of this, I had some weird dreams. One of them might have been about infiltrating Mordor on our plane (to be fair, there was a lot of turbulence, and one does not simply fly into Mordor). 

In the spirit of tolerance, here is a picture of a dog, with an obligatory LOTR reference.

The real excitement stemmed from the fact that, at 9 a.m. that day, I received an automated call from a certain airline informing me my flight had been canceled. Of course, there was a 1 hour wait to reach a customer service rep, the .jpg that I had to select to reschedule my flight was glitching on the website, and I had woken up three hours before my normally-accepted weekend "awake time" for the expressed purpose of having a delicious, relaxing, last-day brunch in NOLA before I departed. 

Accurate representation of my face at this point

Deciding on the "haters-gonna-hate" approach, I went to that damn breakfast, ordered some goddamn salmon with eggs, followed by bananas foster, and got down to some serious business. After having sufficiently championed that breakfast, I eventually got to the airport, rescheduled my flight, and after a series of mishaps and delayed flights, arrived 6 hours late into Providence airport, at 2 a.m.

I am now safely back home in my dorm, and in a very not-cat lady-esque way, am writing this with my cat sleeping next to me. He is in no way using force to get me to write this blog post in which to convince you all that I am not a psychotic cat owner, and is certainly not plotting to take over the world, one post at a time.

I wish I was this important