The Appearing Balls Act

I'm moving again. Thanks to craig's list, I have an array of places to choose from.

Prospect #1

"Companionship needed - free rent for young female"

searching for young female we like to provide companionship for free place to live in fun I will even prepare you hot bubble bath by candlelight give you a massage If you love attention and affection I am your guy If you adoration and real love from the heart I am your man If you look hot in a string bikini and are looking for a guy to marry I. Definitely you man

I'm sorry, who's "we?" 

Prospect #2

"pic"

(picture of some dude standing in front of the mirror photographing himself with his cell phone)

Seems like he's the one looking to move IN...get it? In the VAGINA. 

Prospect #3

"FREE DRYER"

does not work. it worked great one day and then the next day it just wouldn't turn on. don't text asking a million questions

Okay, so this has nothing to do with potential places to live. I just came across this and had to share it. I cannot begin to fathom who would have "a million questions" about a broken dryer. I can think of about...two, maybe?

1. So...it does or does NOT work?
2. Why would I want a broken dryer?

Luckily, it looks like I've found a place and will be moving in some time this weekend. I've settled on a one-bedroom apartment so my cat and I can live happily ever after. There are certain things about my old house I will miss, of course. I had very kind roommates. I had wooden floors. I had walls that held special memories. Memories of the days when my cat was a girl.

Yes, my cat used to be a girl. When I got her, I was told she was a 9-week-old black female. At first, I named her Lucy Fur, then eventually started calling her LeeLoo, named after the fifth element (from the movie). She was a beautiful thing who would one day make a great mother. Then, just a couple weeks ago, her balls dropped.

"We have something to tell you..." my roommates cautiously informed me. "It's about Loo..."

"What?" 

"She's a boy."

"What?"

"She has balls."

"She has balls?"

"See?"

My roommates picked her up and pointed out the two testicles that had definitely never been there before. 

"So...those are testicles, for sure?"

"Yeah. Cats don't show their private parts until they reach puberty."

"Then where's the penis? I don't see a penis."

"The penis is inside."

"It's inside?"

"It only comes out when they're mating. Then it hooks in so the female can't get away."

"It hooks in?"

"Yeah..."

"How did I not know this!"

"Well you're going to have to get him fixed, because he's going to start spraying everywhere."

"Spraying everywhere?"

"Yeah..."

"Like...sperm?"

"Yeah..."

"EW!"

I refused to accept that my little girl had a hidden penis. I decided that she was just a girl trapped in a boy's body. I decided that her manly parts could be ignored. Until she started humping my head.

I was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, when I felt my cat climb on top of my face. This is normal. My cat either sleeps on my face, making it impossible for me to breath, or she awkwardly spoons my neck and strokes my cheek with her paw. It's a weird relationship. Don't ask questions. I'm single and I live alone. That's all you need to know.

But this night, after The Appearing Balls Act, my cat did not stop on my face. She continued up toward my head, and then straddled my cranium. Then I could feel some sort of back-and-forth motion commence. At first I remained motionless, stunned as to what the fuck was going on. Then it hit me: this is humping.

"GET OFF OF ME!" I yelled, lightly propelling my cat across the room. 

"NO HUMP! NU HUMP!" I shouted at her. "I AM YOUR MOTHER! YOUR MOTHER! NO HUMPING YOUR MOTHER! NO!"

He/she has not listened. This has become a nightly ritual.

There are more memories besides these gems. Like just last week. When my neighbor whistled at me. 

Now, this may sound normal at first, but it's not normal considering the past experiences my roommates and I have had with my neighbors. Like the time they attacked our porch, or the time they beaned us. Any "nice" behavior from the neighbors is never to be expected. And then came this evening.

I walked out of my door headed to a party when I heard the whistle. You know it. The "woo-whoooo!" whistle. I'm sorry, that's as good as I can do right now. I'm typing.

I ignored it, and continued to my car. As I sat in my driver's seat rereading the directions, I hear a sudden knocking on my window.

"AH!"

Yes, I yelled. Because it terrified me.

"Sorry, sorry! Didn't mean tuh scare ya, gurl!" my neighbor reassured me.

"It's fine!" I opened my door because my window doesn't roll down and stared at my neighbor, a man dressed in a floor-length leather trench coat. He lived next door with his wife and her kids. That's really all I knew about them. And that they eat canned beans.

"What are you doin' tonight, hunnay? You lookin' good!"

"Ha...ha...thanks...uh, I'm going to a party. Then I'm going to a bar downtown to see a 90s rap show..."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep!"

"You like bikes?" he asked as he motioned his head toward his motorcycle.

"Yeah, yeah...bikes are great!"

Get me out of here.

"Are you as mean as your roommates?"

"What?"

"Your roommates sho' are damn weird. You as weird as them?"

"I'm...uh...what? No! I'm not weird! I'm...you know...pretty calm. I'm chill. I'm..."

Incredibly uncomfortable right now.

"You always wear all black?"

"Yep!"

"Hey, me too!"

"Great!"

Not great.

"Hey, can you keep a secret?"

He obviously does NOT know I'm a blogger.

"Sure!"

Muahahahahaha...

"My old lady doesn't keep track of me when I leave on my bike. How 'bout I meet you at the bar and get you hammered and we can take a ride?"

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

And this is what I do when I'm speechless.

"We'll see! I got to go though!"

And this is what I do when I'm faced with a cloaked man in the middle of the night. I say, "We'll see." WE'LL SEE? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, NATASHA.

As soon as I drove off, I thought of a million things I could have said, which is always how it goes. One, I'm seeing someone. Two, I'm engaged. Three, I'm a lesbian. Four, I have AIDS. Five, I'm a minor. Six, NO.

Alright, so that was just six things. But I don't have time to write a million, and you don't have time to read a million. See? It works out for the both of us.

I'll miss these things about my old home, but, considering my luck, I'm sure I'll have plenty of more stories at my new place. Maybe I'll have another cheating neighbor. Maybe my cat's balls will fall off completely and she'll be a girl again. Maybe I'll meet someone who will prepare me hot bubble bath by candlelight.

You just never know.