Teen Kitty Adventure #1, Part Three

Adventure #1 wraps up in this final and underwhelming chapter. Will Eleanor defeat her evil supervisor, allowing justice to triumph over all? Probably. Will she finally get some R-E-S-P-E-C-T at school? Eh, probably not. If you still need to catch up on what the hell is going on, I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO. And I guess you can check out parts 1 and 2, GOSH.

* * *

As soon as Eleanor reached the Kitty Loves Cat Shelter, she had a vision. In it, she saw her boss in his secret lair within the shelter, pacing back and forth nervously. Gritting her teeth, Eleanor snuck into the shelter and made her way to his secret hideout. She knocked on the door three times. The movement inside stopped.

"Who's there?" asked her supervisor.

Eleanor grabbed the doorknob, turned, and swung the door open dramatically. She remained standing in the doorway. "Feline justice," she said. "Now the claws come out."

"I knew something was different about you!" her supervisor said. "You were a weird kid before, but now you're just a freak." A mean grin spread across his face.

"A freak you created," responded Eleanor evenly. She easily jumped over the hole where a trap door had previously been. "And now you're going to have to deal with it."

Her supervisor froze momentarily, his finger on the trap door button. The he regained his composure. "What are you gonna do? Claw my eyes out?" he asked sarcastically.

Eleanor flexed her hands, and razor-sharp claws protruded from her fingertips. "Maybe." She lunged at him, but was only able to scratch his cheek before he pushed her away. Five thin strips of blood appeared.

"Wow, did anybody ever tell you how much you ABSOLUTELY SUCK AT FIGHTING?" asked her supervisor. "Seriously, my dead, retarded grandmother could do a better job. AND SHE'S DEAD!" He lunged back at her, but she jumped easily over him and landed on the other side of the room, next to a shelf with an open bottle of rubbing alcohol on it. In the blink of an eye, she grabbed the bottle, lunged at him, and threw it in his face.

"AAAAHHHHHH!" he said, stumbling around, clawing at his face and eyes. "IT BURNS!" Eleanor shoved him hard, knocking him off his feet and sending him down the trap door's hole. She stood over the hole.

"'Retarded' isn't politically correct," she said, as the tigers descended on him. She saw something move out of the corner of her eye. In her boss' armchair was Fluffy, who had somehow rolled onto his back and couldn't roll back over. She walked over to him and picked him up.

"Let's go home, Fluffy. Our job here is done."

* * *

Back at John's Pass was a motionless feline body. To the naked eye, it looked dead. But then its paws started to flicker, followed by its tail. The eyes opened, and the cat was fully awake, standing on all fours. It had been in shock. Suddenly, a shadow appeared, and a pair of hands reached down and picked it up.

"I've got you now," a voice said.

* * *

What? A cliff-hanger? Oh no I di'int!

New Examiner.com Article

Been a long time comin'. For this entry, I reviewed a lovely little spot in New Tampa called The Coffee Beanery. Ch-ch-check it out.

Capturing Lightning in a Bottle

Lately, it seems that my life has been peppered with a lot of awkward interactions with complete strangers. People who know me will probably scoff at what I'm about to say, but I am actually completely terrified of just going up to strangers and talking to them. When I'm in these types of situations, I can feel myself reverting back to that shy little kid who was too afraid to initiate conversation, preferring to wait until the other kids noticed her and started talking to her.

To my credit, I've been working on it. I'll actually force myself to go into situations where I don't know anybody and make conversation. Usually after I make that initial contact, I'm over it, and I'll ramble on all the livelong day about everything from work to the weather, but lately it seems that every time I've done this, the interactions with people have been suicide-inducingly awkward. (Just made that phrase up. Go with it. It'll become a thing.) Then I get all paranoid and think, "OH MY GOD, WHAT IF I'M THE AWKWARD PERSON AND THESE PEOPLE ACTUALLY HAVE SOCIAL SKILLS AND I'M MAKING THEM WANT TO COMMIT SUICIDE JUST SO THEY'LL HAVE AN OUT OF THIS CONVERSATION AND NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND?" Then my head explodes.

Earlier tonight, I found myself in yet another awkward conversation with a complete stranger, and the paranoia set in. But before it got too carried away, it got me thinking: I've met so many people in my life. I've had so many interactions, from awkward conversations, to just brief pleasantries with strangers. But only a handful of these interactions and meetings have resulted in friendships. When you really think about it, meeting someone with whom you connect instantly is like capturing lightning in a bottle. You don't come by it often, but when you do, it's special. When you really think about it, making a friend relies on the perfect mixture of timing, fate, and a kindred spirit connection. (Just made up that phrase too. LOOK AT ME, ADDING TO THE AMERICAN LEXICON!) You can't just forge a friendship with anybody.

When I met all of my closest friends, there was an instant connection, an instant feeling of, "Yeah, I'm totally going to wind up being friends with this person." I can pinpoint exactly where and when we met (in no particular order):

Margie

If you were to ask Margie how we met, she would tell you that it was at cheerleading try-outs in sixth grade. I was sitting on the bleachers in the gym, and she sat beside me. Apparently my opening line was, "Hi, I'm Sarah. I'm having an asthma attack." I don't recall this incident, but I've said some random shit in my life, so it's not out of the realm of possibility. I'm just glad she didn't hold this first meeting against me later on in eighth grade when our friendship started to blossom, and in ninth grade when it finally solidified. I knew she was a kindred spirit when we paired up in biology class to dissect an earthworm, a frog, and a pig, and we went at our task with the RECKLESS, GIDDY ABANDON OF SCHOOL CHILDREN ON PIZZA WEDNESDAY.

Meagan

I met Meagan in choir practice shortly after moving to Perry. She just seemed like a nice, approachable girl, and I sat beside her during choir practice and youth group meetings and talked to her, pretty much forcing my friendship on her. If you were to ask Meagan her first impression of me, she would tell you that she thought I was an adult because I acted very mature. I was twelve. Ironically, after fifteen years of friendship, I now act like I'm twelve.

Ali

Ali was the first friend I made when I moved to Tampa. We both worked at Victoria's Secret. For my first day of training, I had to be at the store at ten, and she was working that morning as well. We sat and chatted while waiting for the manager to come and open up the store. Ali can non-awkwardly talk to anybody and make them feel at ease, and it was this quality that let me know that we would wind up being friends. Seven years later, I consider her my soul mate.

Arleen

I actually met Arleen online. When I first moved to Tampa, I was naive about a lot of things. I had just transferred to USF from North Florida Community College, a tiny school in north Florida. Students didn't send out mass emails to their classmates at NFCC. There was no reason to; the classes were small, and everybody knew each other. So when I got to USF, I wasn't versed in mass email etiquette, and would respond to every single mass email I got. I wanted to be polite, you know. Arleen sent out one such mass email to everybody in one of our classes, asking if anyone was from Spring Hill. (I think she was looking for people with whom she could carpool.) I emailed back and said that I wasn't, but that I had an uncle who lived in Spring Hill. From there we started emailing back and forth and decided to meet up in class one day. The rest is history.

Jenna

Jenna and I bonded over laughing at a girl falling on her ass after class one rainy day. And, yeah, Judgey McJudgerson, I know that was kind of mean girl of us, but come on, can you honestly say you've watched someone fall and not cracked up? I know you've seen "Scarlett Takes a Tumble." THAT SHIT IS FUNNY. Anyway, we sort of knew each other from class; we sat next to each other, and we were working on a group project together. But that rainy day propelled us from mere acquaintances to fast friends. As we were leaving class, Jenna ran up beside me and said, "Did you just see that girl fall on her ass?" which then started a conversation about how people falling on their asses is HI-larious, which then turned into friendship.

Olivia

Olivia and I were on USF's newspaper staff together, but I don't remember us really becoming friends until our Critical Thinking class. I think we bonded over the fact that the class was a joke and the professor was a douche bag. We're also smart asses, so our personalities just meshed.

Monica

I worked with Monica at Ann Taylor Loft. She was one of the assistant managers, and I thought she was way older than she actually was. Monica is my age, but because she was so well-composed and so...managerial, I thought she was in her thirties. It wasn't until we were working together one night and started talking that we found out we had a lot in common, including our desire to go country line-dancing. I still remember that first outing. We were on our way to The Roundup, a Country Western club. Monica was driving, and she was driving fast. We whipped around a curve, and she giggled maniacally and was all, "TEE HEE HEE, I HAVE SUCH A LEAD FOOT FOR SUCH A LITTLE PERSON!" Not gonna lie, I was pretty terrified, but she got us to the club alive and in one piece, that night and numerous nights since.

Kathy

I met Kathy in the same class in which I met Jenna. The three of us sat next to each other, and we were also working on the same group project. Like Ali, Kathy can pretty much talk to anybody about anything, making you feel as if you've known her your whole life. And, as with Ali, these qualities let me know that we would end up being friends.

When you really think about it, making friends is like capturing lightning in a bottle. I feel blessed to have captured lightning eight times.

Ava's New Fave Hiding Place

Here is how I know Ava was meant to be my dog: she, like me, goes through weird phases. Like one time, in college, I went through a phase where I listened to Michael Jackson's "Thriller" non-stop everyday for about two weeks. I don't know how my roommates kept from murdering me. Likewise, Ava went through a phase where she would climb behind my entertainment system and just sit, staring awkwardly at me while I watched TV:

It only lasted a day, so I'm not sure if you could properly call it a phase, and I'm pretty sure she was back there because that was where she hid her rope toy, but you know what I mean. ANYway, she is now doing another weird thing, and it's been going on for the past few weeks: hiding under my bed. Actually, it's not so much as hiding as it is just hanging out. Earlier this week, when I was watching a movie, Ava abandoned her traditional post on my lap to go lounge under the bed. When I came home from work (I get out at 1p.m. every other Friday because my company is on summer hours, holla!) she came out from under the bed suddenly, in a manner that said, "Well, hello, I wasn't expecting to see you so soon." Here's what I think she does under there in ascending levels of ridiculousness:

-sleep

-rehearse her plan of action in case of burglars or if the maintenance man comes for a surprise (to her) visit

-think about the cute boy dog down the street

-contemplate her life and debate whether or not she is behind in what she has contributed thus far, as opposed to other dogs her age

-write in her secret doggie diary

-plot her escape

-plot to take over the world, Pinky and the Brain-style

Looking over the list, "plot her escape" is kind of silly. Why would she plot her escape? I MADE HER CHICKEN BROTH POPSICLES, SON!

Deal of the Weekend!

I've never been a label snob. I've always been more concerned with getting a good deal than with the name on the tag, my mindset being that if it's cute, fits well and is an affordable price, who cares if it's Chanel or Mossimo? There are, however, two luxury labels that I adore, and I've been wanting to own a piece of each for awhile: Tiffany & Co and Dooney & Bourke. I crossed Tiffany off my list a few years ago via a somewhat unwise and impulsive purchase (that I don't regret one bit). Today, I crossed Dooney & Bourke off my list in the exact opposite fashion: running the numbers and making sure that it was a purchase I could actually afford instead of just slapping it on a credit card and telling myself I'll worry about it later.

I'm not a huge handbag person, but I love Dooney & Bourke. It's the same reason why I love Tiffany & Co.: it's such a classic style. Dooney & Bourke handbags go with anything and class up even the most casual of outfits. I've been itching for one, and have been keeping my eyes peeled for a good deal. I've had a few close calls. I saw a handbag at a TJ Maxx in Kentucky, but it was a crazy orange color and ugly as hell. I saw a wallet at Marshalls, but no handbags. I almost bought a bag at a consignment store in Kentucky, but I wasn't crazy about the cowboy boots and spurs design and my friend Monica pointed out that it was kind of tiny and couldn't hold very much, and if I was going to drop $50 on a purse, it should be able to hold all my things. She was right, so I sighed and put it back on the shelf. It wasn't meant to be.

Today all that changed. On a lark, my friend Ali and I went to Macy's to look at some rings that were on sale. Before we left, I wanted to go by the handbag section just to see if there was anything good. Lo and behold, an entire table of Dooney & Burke purses were on sale! They were only in two color schemes and designs, but they were the styles and designs I loved: simple and classic. Problem was, even at the clearance price of $146.25, it was still out of my price range. A sales woman saw us browsing and was using all her methods of persuasion to try and get me to buy the bag, and asked if I had any coupons. I said no, and Ali jokingly asked her if she had any coupons to offer us. The sales lady said no, but that she was working with another customer who had some coupons and that she'd ask her client if she would give me one. Her client did, and gave me one for 20% off. On top of that, I had $37.65 credit on my Macy's credit card, bringing the grand total of the purse to $87.54. Totally in my budget. Let me put it another way:

Original price of the bag: $195.00

Clearance price: $146.25

After 20% off coupon was applied: $125.19 (including tax)

After $37.65 credit is applied: $87.54

Total savings: $115.65

Who's the (wo)man?! This girl.

I love my bag, and the great deal I got it for makes me love it even more. I'm proud of myself. Instead of impulsively buying it, I took my time, crunched the numbers and was prepared to walk away if it was too much. And now I have a nice handbag and zero buyer's remorse. Life is good.

Show Me How You Burlesque

Actually, don't show me, because if you are anybody other than the cast of Burlesque, you will probably look like this and embarrass all of us. Speaking of embarrassing, you know what movie wasn't as embarrassing as I was expecting it to be? Burlesque. Transition. Nailed it.

Don't get me wrong, this movie won't win any awards. The plot and dialogue could have been written by a hyperactive second grader who was just given a giant chocolate bar and a 2-liter bottle of soda. It's basically Coyote Ugly without Tyra Banks and John Goodman, but it wasn't as bad as Coyote Ugly. I know, I know--WTF, am I right? Here's what separates it from that other movie about a small town girl (livin' in a lonely world) who took the midnight train heading anywhere moves to the big city to follow her dreams: the dance numbers. The performance sequences in Burlesque make the gals in Coyote Ugly look like a bunch of drunken Okies just bumbling around, salivating like Pavlov's dogs whenever their eyes land on a sweat-stained fiver wielded by an overweight businessman smack dab in the midst of a mid-life crisis. Allow me to utilize a visual aid:

Low self-esteem! Daddy issues!

Flashy! Pretty!

Hot mess! White trash!

Sexy! Sassy! Sophisticated!

Are we on the same web page now? Anyway, I basically gave away the plot earlier, but here's a more detailed breakdown: Christina Aguilera plays Allie, a small-town girl from Iowa, who moves to L.A. to follow her dreams. She stumbles upon the Burlesque Lounge and is immediately all, "OMG if I don't become a performer here I will slit my wrists!" But then Cher is all, "Hold up, homegirl, don't think you can come in my house with your dreams and your hope! You know what I do to dreams and hope? I shit on them. That's what I do. This is me, shitting on your dreams and your hope. Buh-bye." Allie then is like, "Oh, hells naw," so she gets a job as a waitress at the lounge, where she spends most of her time watching the show, yet still manages to get people the right drinks. I don't get it. I also don't get all the staring that goes down in this damn movie. This is pretty much the first half hour:

"OMG, I wanna be up there."

"OMG, I need to be up there."

"OMG, I would sell my body in a sexual way to be up there."

"Seriously, who do I have to bang to get up there?!"

After more staring and pleading, Allie eventually annoys Cher enough to get a spot as a performer. But that's not the end of the story! She finds herself in a love triangle with a bartender named Jake and McSteamy from Grey's Anatomy, she steps on the toes of a rival dancer played by Kristen Bell, she pals around with Stanley Tucci who reprises his role from The Devil Wears Prada, and she helps Cher keep her club from going under. Phew! That's a lot for a girl from Iowa who has been in the City of Angels for a month, two months, tops! It can pretty much be summed up like this:

"Gosh, you're pretty."

"I am McSteamy! Have sex with me!"

"I'm the gay mentor who everybody looks to for support!"

"I hate that tramp!"

"I'm Cher, bitch! Respect!"

"Yay, let's dance and be sexy!"

Still, though, Burlesque was pretty enjoyable, and the costumes and performances are hot. If you want a movie sans plot holes as big as sinkholes, go rent Kramer vs. Kramer or Philadelphia or something. But if all you want is to have a good time and watch pretty girls in pretty clothes prettily strut around on their pretty little legs, then give Burlesque a whirl.

Teen Kitty Adventure #1, Part Two

So it took longer than a week for me to get this written and posted. Sue me. If you're all confused and like, "WTF is a Teen Kitty?" checkity-check out part one here.

***

The day just got weirder for Eleanor. She had an insatiable craving for milk. When Mandy pushed her down the bleachers during gym, she landed on her hands and feet effortlessly, not a scratch on her. Cats were inexplicably drawn to her. She was also incredibly acrobatic and clairvoyant. The other students also noticed the weirdness surrounding Eleanor and started calling her Teen Kitty. The nickname stuck.

“Hey. Teen Kitty. Stop meow-ing and let the others have a chance at answering the question,” said her English teacher.

“But you specifically asked me.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. You said, ‘Eleanor, what does the streetcar symbolize in this play?’”

“Well, now I want you to shut your yap because I’m tired of your mew-ing, okay?”

Work wasn’t any better. Everywhere Eleanor went, the cats followed, and her supervisor took a peculiar interest in her.

“Eleanor, do you feel okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

He nervously rubbed his ruby cat ring. “Something’s just…different about you, is all. Did you make it home okay last night?”

“Yeah.”

“No accidents?”

Eleanor felt uneasy. She didn’t like his prying, and somehow knew that disclosing what really happened to her the night before would get her in trouble. So she did something she never did: lie.
“No, no accidents.”

“Then where is your car?”

Shit. Eleanor forgot she walked to the shelter. “It was…stolen.”

“Stolen?”

“Yeah, by some individuals from a low socioeconomic class.” She shook her head dramatically. “This town ain’t what it used to be!” She hurried to go clean the litter boxes and avoid further questioning.

“Stolen by individuals from a low socioeconomic class my ass,” muttered her supervisor as he watched her walk away.

***

It took Eleanor longer than normal to clean all the litter boxes, and when she finally started collecting her things to leave, it was almost midnight.

“Good thing it’s Friday,” she mumbled to herself. “At least I can sleep in tomorrow.”

As she walked past her supervisor’s office, she saw that the door was closed, but the light was still on. She heard a muffled voice, and, curious, she tip-toed over and pressed her ear against the door.

“What do you mean, you haven’t found any of those cats?!” her supervisor said, obviously agitated. There were a few seconds of silence then, “We need to find those cats! You know what an army of radioactive cats could do if they wound up in the wrong hands? God forbid anybody gets bitten or scratched by one. Actually, I think one of my volunteers may be infected…Well, she’s always been Coco Loco, but now she seems different…more…catty…No, not in the typical woman way! Literally, she’s taken on cat-like characteristics! When she’s around, the cats here go apeshit!...Listen, I’m done talking to you. Your ass doesn’t go to sleep until all 11 of those cats are found, you hear me?” This last sentence was punctuated by a metal clang, probably from slamming the phone into its cradle. Eleanor stepped back and hurried out of the building, allowing what she just heard to marinate in her brain.

“I’ve got to find those cats before they do,” she said.

***

The next morning, Eleanor set out on her cat-finding mission. She started off by going to the scene of the accident. As soon as she stepped foot into the woods near the intersection, she was besieged by colors and sounds. Pretty soon an image took shape in her mind; she was having a vision. She saw the cats wandering down under a bridge overpass by the river. For the most part, they were alone, save for the few bums who camped out there and who would occasionally say things like, “Shut up, you damn cats!” and, “Your carrying on sounds like my late wife Myrtle! May the bitch rest in peace!” Then it was over.

“They’re out by John’s Pass,” she said to herself. “I need to get over there!”

She began running.

***

She got there to John’s Pass in 15 minutes.

“Holy shit, can I run fast!” she exclaimed. “I’m like a cheetah! And I’m not even out of breath!” All of a sudden she heard a chorus of meows and ran in the direction of the sounds.

“There you guys are!” she said when she got to the cats. The cats immediately fell silent and watched her intently. She did a quick count. “…8,9,10. But my supervisor said there were 11. Isn’t there supposed to be one more?” she questioned the cats. The cats all looked behind them to the riverbank, where a feline body lay limp and motionless, obviously dead.

Eleanor wiped tears from her eyes and put a hand over her heart. “My brother didn’t make it,” she said sadly. “Godspeed, Friend; I just know you’re having a ball chasing mice in that big litter box in the sky.” She looked at the rest of the cats. “Follow me. I know a safe place.”

Like the pied piper, the cats formed a line behind Eleanor and followed her to the local laboratory that studied things like global warming, nuclear radiation and birds caught in oil spills.

“Trust me—you want to study these animals,” she told the stunned scientists. “Some weird chemical was spilled on them or something.” With that, she left.

“Now to take care of a little business,” she said to herself, and started walking in the direction of Kitty Loves.

***

Stayed tune for the (not so) thrilling conclusion of Adventure #1! And if you know of a way I can make Teen Kitty even MORE ridiculous, feel free to leave a comment or shoot me an email! Obviously, I'm not taking this too seriously! ITALICS AND CAPS LOCK AND EXCLAMATION POINTS FOR THE WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!