Like a Big Dollop of Butter

friend: So I recently watched The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and all it really did was make me realize I have a slouching problem.

me: I feel like Quasimoto all the time.

friend: It's just more comfortable to sit hunched over.

me: I'm always paranoid that if I sit up straight, it will just look like I'm trying to push out my chest. 

But it is nice to sit up straight if you're planning on looking sideways. Sit up straight, look left, coast is clear. Sit slouched, look left, BAM! View is blocked. By what? By your own shoulder.

guy: I used to be really short.

friend: ...

me: ...
Is this related to posture? I'm confused.

guy: I mean, I used to be short.

friend: ...

me: ...
Saying it twice did not help the confusion.

guy: I used to have a big butt.

friend: Uh...

me: Wait, what?

guy: I used to be really short and have a big butt. That is how I got good posture.

friend: So...a big ass...

me: ...helps...posture?

guy: Yes because I was always tucking in my big butt, trying to hide it from people. If you hold in your butt, your back straightens itself out. And this is how I learned to stand up straight.

(He demonstrates the tactic for us.)

friend: Ah...yes...I see now...

me: Wait...so is your butt still...big?

guy: I grew into it. See?

friend: Right, right...

me: WHERE'S OUR SERVER?

This, ladies and gentlemen, is called a "subject change." I hear it's an art, but I have not mastered it. I'm working on it, though. You could say I've "apprenticed" it, which really means I change the subject by yelling out a new one and looking around frantically as if a fly was buzzing around my head. 

friend: I don't know! She's been ignoring us all night! I think it's because we're young and she probably assumed we're shitty tippers.

me: Well when she finally does come over here, I'm going to ask her for an extra thing of butter to go with your appetizer.

friend: Butter?

me: Yeah, I'm going to take it home and eat it with my bread.

guy: Why don't you just buy butter?

me: Because I don't need a whole stick. I just need a little to go with my loaf of bread. I'm not going to spend my money on a whole thing of butter when I just need a dollop.

guy: A dollop?

me: Yes, a dollop. Don't judge me. The bread was free. 

friend: Didn't you have a cup of butter earlier?

me: Yeah but I accidentally turned it upside down onto my skirt. See the butter stain?

friend: Hahaha ew!

me: Wait, there's our server! She's coming over here.

server: Y'all need anythang else?

friend: May I have a to-go box, please?

me: And an extra thing of butter?

server: Butter?

me: Uh...yeah...she wants it. Not me. She asked for it.

server: Butter?

me: Uh...no. Just kidding. HAHAHAHAHAHA!

server: ...
She turns and walks away.

me: WHAT THE FUCK.

guy: Why didn't you just demand the butter?

me: Did you see the way she looked at me? She was looking at me like I was crazy! What's wrong with some extra butter?!

friend: Yeah and she didn't even offer to put another thing of sour cream in my to-go box. I mean I obviously liked it. The container is empty.

me: Wait...sour cream?

friend: Yeah.

me: I thought that was butter.

friend: Oh...I was wondering why you mentioned butter earlier...

me: Did you have any butter?

friend: No, my appetizer didn't come with butter.

me: WELL NO WONDER SHE LOOKED AT ME LIKE I WAS CRAZY!

friend: Sorry! I was just confused by the whole butter thing!

You know you're broke when you walk into a bar and ask for a cup of water and some butter.

server: Here's yer to-go box.

friend: Thank you, and I'd like to pay my tab whenever you get a chance.

service: Alrighty.

Forty-five minutes later.

friend: She has smoked three cigarettes since I asked for my tab and she still hasn't brought it.

me: She keeps looking over here, though.

friend: This is just horrible service, and I'm really empathetic when it comes to servers. I used to work as one, I know how it is. But she has just been rude.

me: She has. I mean...couldn't she just bring me some butter?

guy: Are you still upset about the butter?

me: YES I'M STILL UPSET ABOUT THE BUTTER. 

guy: Just eat something else!

me: ALL I HAVE IS BREAD. AND NO BUTTER TO EAT IT WITH.

friend: She doesn't even look like she would be a server. What is she doing here? She looks like she should be doing hair in Kansas.

me: Holy shit she does...

friend: She's looking at us.

me: Excuse me?

server: Yes?

me: Could we have our tab please?

server: Are y'all ready for your tab?

What the fuck?

friend: Yes, please.

server: I'll be back with it.

friend: But will she...

me: I should have just asked for butter.

friend: What should I tip her?

me: I don't know. I work with servers so I know it can be tough...but they bust their asses. They all seem to be really hard workers. This woman has just been giving us dirty looks all night.

friend: I'm going to tip her twenty percent. 

me: That's nice of you.

friend: Yeah I mean she's probably just having a bad night and I've just been in the mood to complain.

me: I've been complaining too much, too. I think it's just because I'm not drinking. And I'm hungry. 
For butter.

Epilogue

Tucking in her butt has not helped Natasha improve her posture, but it has helped everyone around her think she has been constipated for days. 

Their server did not move to Kansas.

Natasha ate her bread with the only thing she had in her fridge that night: Taco Bell Verde salsa. 

She bought butter the next day.

And You Thought A Cat Couldn't Possibly Get More Naked

Today's Conversation with My Cat

me: WHAT IS THIS SHIT?

cat: Meow.

me: No, I mean literally. This shit by the front door. Why is it there.

cat: Meow.

me: I cleaned your litter box this morning! AND I filled it with brand new, more expensive litter. Is this how you repay  me?

cat: Meow, meow.

me: I just slid into my apartment by slipping on shit. Do you realize how embarrassing that is?

cat: Meow.

me: And what is this? PISS? On the windowsill? Have you lost your mind?

cat: Meow meow meow meow meow meow ---

me: Stop it, that's annoying.

cat: Meow meow meow meow meow meow ---

me: What the hell are you doing? Why are you running around everywhere?

cat: MEOW MEOW!

me: Ouch! Don't ever leap over my head like that again!

cat: MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW ---

me: Oh my god what is that.

cat: MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW ---

me: Holy shit that's your penis.

cat: MEOW MEOW MEOW ---

me: Put your penis away, Leeloo!

cat: MEOW MEOW MEOW ---

me: For the love of god put that pink, pointy thing away!

cat: MEOW MEOW ---

me: Quit flashing me! You're already naked enough as it is! How can you get any naked-er?

cat: MEOW MEOW MEOW ---

me: Stop licking my earlobes. This is getting weird.

cat: Purrrrrrrrrrr...

me: GET YOUR TONGUE AND YOUR PENIS AWAY FROM ME AND PUT THEM WHERE THEY BELONG.

cat: Purrrrrrrrrrrr...

me: NO! Your tongue does not belong on your penis! 

cat: Purrrrrrrrr...

me: I give up. 

Check Out the Mugs on That One

This Week's Conversations

Conversation #1

"Apartment maintenance, this is Shirley, how can I help you?"

"Hi, yes, I'm in Apartment B and my hot water has stopped working."

"And what time did this happen?"

"Time? Uh...about a week ago."

"Alright, ma'am, so you have not had hot water for a week?"

"Yes."

"Well the soonest we can get someone out there to fix it is tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning? Can they not come tonight?"

"Well I'd have to wake someone up to do that."

"Wake someone up? What time is it?"

"It's 3am, ma'am."

"OH, sorry, I...uh...didn't check the clock..."

"It's fine. We'll have someone out there tomorrow."

"Yes, that's totally fine. Sorry again."

"For immediate service, you should call us when you first realize the problem you're having."

"RIGHT, yeah, I mean, it hasn't been a problem. I like cold water. I have hot blood."

"..."

"I MEAN, I'm warm-blooded or whatever. I mean, I guess all humans are...uh...I mean, I haven't gone a week without showering. I've still showered. I like cold showers."

"Alright, ma'am, we'll have someone out there in the morning. Anything else I can help you with?"

You could have helped me by hanging up the phone before I said, "I have hot blood." You could have helped me by not having your office open at 3 in the morning when I'm bored and have nothing to do besides call my apartment complex to let them know I've taken a few showers this week. And that I'm not a reptile.

"No, that's it. Thank you!"

"Have a nice night, ma'am. Goodbye."

Conversation #2

"Hi, I'm Randy, I'm here to turn your hot water back on."

"Hi! Yes, come in, come in."

"It looks like your water tank had a leak."

"Yeah, my apartment flooded for the second time."

"I'm going to test out the water pressure coming from this. Do you have a bowl I can use to put under the hose?"

"Uh...I actually don't own any bowls."

"Do you have an extra towel?"

"I only have one towel."

"Um...do you have a cup?"

"I have a mug? Does that work?"

"Yeah, that'll be fine."

"Oh shit...UH, they're all dirty. This is the only clean one I have...I apologize."

"That's...fine."

"It's from Goodwill. It's funny to me. Not actually something I like to look at. Just funny."

"..."

"...I'll be outside."

Beckham's Bunions

This fall semester, I'm enrolled in English 4980: Lord of the Rings. Frodo Baggins's résumé now includes: defeated a cave troll, protected the One Ring to rule them all, and allowed Natasha Ferrier to graduate from college.

(Not to mention his ability to secrete copious amounts of estrogen when caught in a slow-motion pillow fight.)

Part of me wants to show up for the first day of class in costume, preferably as a dwarf, but this involves money. The other part of me knows it would be much cheaper to just go as a hobbit. All I'd have to do is not shave my feet for a week and then go to class barefoot. 

And you think I'm kidding.

Alright, so I'm kidding. I don't have hobbit feet. But I do have hobbit toes, which basically means that if Danny DeVito and Bilbo Baggins had a baby, it would be me.

+

   

=

(Translation):

Hobbit foot + Danny DeVito's infamous "troll foot" = Bill Murray's approval. (Not pictured: My toes. Which he is pointing at.)

AND NOW I AM GOING OFF ON A BRIEF TANGENT: 

To find a photo of DeVito's frequently tweeted foot, I googled "celebrity feet." This led me to a 15-minute youtube video of The Top Ten Celebrity Feet, according to a mister Foot McFetish. After watching one minute and thirty-seven second's worth of Sarah Michelle Gellar's heels, accompanied by some excuse for a techno song, I stopped watching the video and started reading the comments. Many people complained about stars who were not featured in the video, to which Foot McFetish responded:

"[They] would have made the list if it wasn't for Sarah Michelle Gellar and Jennifer Aniston who I put on the list because they were the first women who's feet I used to look at when I was younger."

A few comments later, all consisting of complaints about whose toes had been neglected, a mister Adam chimed in:

"You're all freaks."

Thank you, Adam. But you must keep in mind that you are also one of the 31,674 people who will never get that 15 minutes of their life back.

I started reading another article that began with the shocking news that Victoria's Beckham's love for stilettos led her to a battle with bunions, and then it hit me: if I died right now, this is where I would be found. 

My Coroner's Report

Who: Natasha L. Ferrier

What: Covered in fleas

When: Four in the fucking morning

Where: In a pile of empty plastic bags that she allegedly was using as seat cushions

Why: Beckham's bunions

AND NOW I AM ENDING MY TANGENT AND PRETENDING LIKE FOOT MCFETISH DID NOT PLAY A MAJOR ROLE IN MY LIFE JUST THEN:

However, no one seems to think I would make a good dwarf, hobbit, or love child. Yes, this has come up in conversation.

"Our server forgot to bring us napkins."

"It's okay, I saw where they kept them when we walked in. I'll just sneak over there and grab them real quick..."

(I stealthily dash off and return with a handful of napkins.)

"Why do you walk like that every time you try to be sneaky?"

"Walk like what?"

Like James Bond, I'm sure you mean.

"Like Gollum."

Or maybe you meant like a malnourished munchkin who looks like he's been soaking in the bathtub for eleven years.

"GOLLUM?"

"Ol' Smeagol over here!"

"I do not look like Gollum."

"Ahahaha - but really. You do. Every time you sneak off somewhere, you hunch over really low...and kinda...like...wrinkle your face up."

"I GOT THE NAPKINS WITHOUT HIM SEEING ME, DIDN'T I?"

"I didn't say he saw you!"

"Actually he saw me."

"Did he?"

"Yeah. This didn't matter a minute ago when I thought I looked like an undercover BADASS. Turns out I looked more like I was roaming around mistaking a stack of paper napkins for my precious."

"I'm just sayin. You look like Gollum."

Based on this conversation, no one would have believed me if I told them that only a week before, I had been deemed Mufasa. Do you hear me? MU-FUCKIN-FASA. How I went from King of the Savannah to Genetically-Modified Prune is beyond me.

...at least I don't have bunions.

The Feline Flea Line

A List of Thoughts After Deciding to Clean My Apartment

1. I haven't actually decided when yet, but it's safe to say that the decision was made. 

2. This means my apartment is still messy. 

3. Which means I still have fleas.

4. Yes, fleas. You can blame my pussy.

5. My CAT, you pervert.

6. Things have been going so well for us lately. Leeloo has been acting like a changed feline. He/she hasn't been nagging me, or complaining about how late I stay out...we've even started sleeping in the same bed again. It reminds me of when we were young, like virgins, being touched for the first time...but after such blissful cohabitation, we got into our first argument in weeks.

"I have fleas, Leeloo."

"Meow."

"HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF THAT."

"Meow, meow!"

"I have not been petting other cats."

"Meow."

"I've been out late because I've been working. You know, that thing I do to earn money for us so we can live comfortably."

"Meow, meow."

"That tabby? The tabby next door?"

"Meow!"

"Well of course I "automatically" thought of him. HE'S THE ONLY TABBY IN OUR APARTMENT COMPLEX. And I looked at him once."

"Oh, now I was gazing? No. I was glancing. It was an acknowledgement, not a cat call."

"Meow!"

"I do not think he's in better shape than you. You look great. Especially in that fur coat you wear. It's ---"

"Meow."

"Please let me finish speaking. I have ---"

"Meow, meow."

"QUIT INTERRUPTING ME."

"Meow."

"Whatever. The bottom line is you gave me fleas."

"Meow."

"How long have you had fleas? Was this before or after we moved in together?"

"Meow, meow."

"Either you got fleas from someone else and have kept it a secret from me, or you got fleas while you were here living with me, which means you have been unfaithful."

"Meow!"

"THEN HOW'D YOU GET FLEAS?"

"Meow."

"Fine, deny it. Is there anything else you are keeping from me? Herpes, perhaps?"

7. I regretted the herpes comment as soon as I spoke with a friend the other day.

"Sorry I called you back so late, I had to go to the vet with one of my friends."

"Oh yeah? How was the vet?"

"Well my friend said her cat had been acting different, which is why we went. Turns out her cat has chlamydia."

"Chlamydia?"

"Yeah! Can you believe that?!"

"I didn't know animals could even get STDs."

"Apparently so."

"That's a shame."

"What's a shame? That her cat has chlamydia? Or that animals can get sexually transmitted diseases?"

"Neither. It's a shame that they named an STD "Chlamydia." If you think about it, it'd make a really pretty girl's name."

"..."

"Errrr I mean YEAH, POOR CAT!"

8. I went home and apologized to Leeloo.

"I'm sorry I asked you if you had herpes. Some cat ---"

"Meow!"

"No, not a cat I know, it's a cat of a cat's. Anyway, apparently she has chlamydia."

"Meow, meow."

"What's a shame? That the cat has chlamydia?"

"Meow."

"I know, right! That's exactly what I said!"

"Meow."

"Well, we doooooo live alone...if you ever have kittens, we could probably get away with naming one of them Chlamydia. It's not like anyone would know."

"Meow."

"Why would we have to tell your mother? Why do you have to pull her out of the bag for everything?"

"Meow."

"I didn't say anything bad about your mother. It just doesn't make sense that you always include her in our personal problems."

"Meow!"

"You know what, I've had enough. Let's be honest, shall we? YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW YOUR MOTHER."

"Meow, meow."

"Fine. Take the bed. I don't care. I prefer the floor, anyway."

9. Forty-six flea bites and counting.

10. Actually, I'm not counting. I stopped after forty-six - which is also a lie.

11. I gave up once I got to eighteen.

12. I'm lying again.

13. I gave up at two.

14. But I assure you, there are at least fifty flea bites on my body. I'd take the time to count them if I wasn't too busy scratching them. Plus, I'm typing.

15. I inspected Leeloo and the only place I could find any fleas were on the top of his/her head. This was both pleasing and perturbing. Pleasing because the fleas weren't as widespread as I thought they were; perturbing because if they tend to gravitate toward certain areas for specific reasons, this means there is some unknown similarity between my cat's skull and my groin area.

16. Don't worry though, because I am now cleaning my apartment.

17. Remember number 12?

18. Now please refer to number 11.