My cat needs things his size

I have just caught Emmex digging all my drawers out of their drawer.
The other day he wrapped himself up in one of my bras.
My kitty either wants to dress up in my underthings or he has a proclivity for lacy material, particularly my lacy material.
I should probably start making tiny kitty underwear. Then he could wear things his size. And really, isn’t it annoying when your undies are a bit too big? They sag and bunch and don’t quite make you look as good as you thought they would, so I think he might appreciate it. Measuring him could be a problem though. He tends to squirm…hmm…
Eventually I think I could totally design a line of kitty lingerie. I could make money, Emmex wouldn’t keep trying to fit into my undergarments, and all the kitties that are curious or feel more comfortable in human clothing would be able to live their dream. It’s a win, win, win people.


Exactly the look he gave me when I caught him.


In which you are advised not to be a shitbag…

I have decided to write this because of a conversation I witnessed. It was shocking and made me upset to the point I had to leave the room and I could barely pull myself together for several hours. I couldn’t stay silent knowing that some people still think this way. Trigger warning if you happen to be sensitive to discussions involving sexual assaults.

The person in question, we’ll call him Bob because I don’t think I actually know any Bobs and therefore he can stay anonymous, kept calling an assault (which was experienced by a person he used to be in a legal relationship with and which happened years ago so the statute of limitations is likely up) “alleged” and using those annoying air quotes which were uber unnecessary because of the level of sarcasm in his voice. He outright claimed that she was lying since she had made up lies about him once their relationship was over. This happened two days in a row. He further dug his own grave by discussing the merits of bringing the guy who assaulted her to court with him to freak her out.

This is disgusting. And right here I’m going to let loose. If I had any respect for this person it all disappeared once those words came out of his mouth.

  • If you are in any sort of relationship with someone romantic/familial/friendship/etc. and they tell you they were abused or assaulted YOU BELIEVE THEM.

I’m speaking about the people who you are supposed to be able to count on when life goes to shit. Do not imply they are lying or exaggerating or anything of the like. It takes a lot of courage to tell someone about horrid things and if you are insensitive in any way the immediate response is to cut you out and rightly so. There is no reason they should have to put up with your bullshit.

  • There is never an excuse to visit this person’s horrid experience back on them.

If they want to talk about it again they’ll tell you. You may have good intentions but the thought doesn’t count in this situation. You have no idea what they’re dealing with because of this fucked up experience and forcing them to “fix” themselves is not going to work.

Also, for the love of god, there is absolutely no fucking reason to even entertain the idea of getting back at this person, no matter what they have done to you, by using their horrid experience against them. Do you think for one second that they can forget about what happened? Do you think there aren’t some nights they lie awake reliving every god-awful moment? We’re talking about psychological terror here.

Why the hell do you think more victims of sexual assault don’t come forward? It’s because of shits like Bob not believing them and turning the tables on them. If someone knows what happened to you they can potentially use it against you. If we don’t create a safe place for victims then they will continue to stay silent and not get help. There is this stigma associated with these things and it permeates so much of our culture.

I know there are organizations and places out there who will help people heal. It’s not non-existent. But it makes it a hell of a lot harder to help people when others are calling them liars and making them feel more like shit than the person who assaulted them.

Please, please, please try to be sensitive and supportive if someone tells you they had a horrid experience. That’s all they’re asking for. They need someone to lean on, be honored they chose you and don’t act like a shitbag.

A roundabout discussion of depression and whatnot

I’ve been going through a particularly horrid bout of depression and panic lately which is,  most likely,  the reason I’ve not been writing. However I’m working on it.  And that’s all we can ever really do isn’t it?
Waking up in the middle of the night with no reason for a panic attack other than the fact that I was breathing totally sucks.  Especially since the breathing part gets particularly hard when you’re hyperventilating.

Me: I think I’m going to sleep and have good dreams.
Brain: Okay.
4 hours later -> Brain: Just kidding! You totally need to be awake now and worried about EVERYTHING. Why are you sleeping? DON’T YOU KNOW EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE?!
Me: What’s going on? Did something awful happen?
Brain: No,  but it will.

So I hyperventilate and make some tea and check on my kids at 1:35 am on a school night (my 17 year old was awake claiming no knowledge of the time. Surprise!) then took an ativan and tried to go back to sleep.
Ativan can be great for panic but it definitely sucks the energy out of me.  I don’t fall asleep but the relaxation that comes with it can make me way too mellow at times. Imagine being at work and finding out you’re almost late for a meeting. It puts a bit of hustle in your step right? Ativan takes the hustle away. In fact,  you are the opposite of disco. Which can be quite nice honestly.  I hate it when I can’t control channeling John Travolta at work. 😉 (Oh and I totally made it to that meeting. Yay!)
Of course this leaves us with just the depression to deal with. Yeah,  just depression. Like I just stole an ostrich from the zoo so I could ride it downtown and now the police are just at my door.
That ostrich can cause so much more damage than can ever be imagined.
When you are your own worst enemy it takes a lot to face the world. You only have so much mental energy and panicking about stuff that hasn’t happened or having depression can severely deplete your mental store. On days I have to be out in the world I spend the rest of my mental energy trying to look like a normal person.  Nevermind I don’t blend in because I may have decided to put blue streaks in my hair or I’m wearing something outlandishly bright to counteract the depression creeping in from every corner.  I’m talking about normal as in can-interact-with-other-people-without-freaking-out.
And I’m not just talking about face-to-face interactions.  Phone calls also freak me out.  I would rather text a conversation than talk. Maybe it feels less confrontational? (Yeah,  because ordering pizza or sandwiches or sushi is soooo confrontational. I actively seek out restaurants that let me order online just so I don’t have to talk to a person. I should probably mention this to my therapist.)


All these things, plus a bazillion others, I’m working on.  I’m may not get it figured out today or this week or this year but I’m trying.  (Just like I’m trying to write this blog while Emmex steps all over my phone. Yes,  touchscreens totally register cat noses and paws.) I know I can’t give up because that would mean the crap side wins and I hate that more than talking on the phone.