 |
|||||
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
my cat Well, bizarre experience at the veterinarian's office today...took the cat in for her annual shots and her regular doctor wasn't there, so we saw this other woman. She started asking a lot of questions about kitty's eating habits, as kitty is a bit overweight and sedentary. The doctor finally says, "well, I think that kitty is probably Obsessive Compulsive Disordered." Me: "My cat has OCD?" Vet Lady: "Yes, and it manifests itself in her eating disorder." Me (looking around for the hidden Candid Camera): "My cat has an EATING DISORDER?" Vet Lady: "Yes, I believe she is a Compulsive Overeater." Me (starting to laugh): "So, do they have Overeater Anonymous meetings for cats?" Vet Lady (clearly annoyed with me): "No. I would like to put her on Prozac, as that can help greatly with this type of disorder." Me: "You're shitting me, right?" (Vet Lady didn't seem to like that comment too much.) My cat is almost 10 years old. She has always been a bit chubby, but was, in fact, the runt of her litter and is still the smallest of her siblings. She has seen the same vet since she was born, and every time we go there, he weighs her, she always weighs the same, yet I have asked him for years if I should be concerned about her weight, and he always says, no, she's just genetically a big cat. Now this wacko lady says my cat is OCD and COE??? Crazy. This is seriously the cat that has convinced many people who thought they hated cats otherwise. This is the cat who bounds to the door when the doorbell rings because she loves to flop on her back in the foyer and let the UPS Driver rub her tummy. This is the cat who my friend Timmy props up on the top of his head and prances around the room like John Cleese in that Monty Python "Minister of Funny Walks" sketch, because it makes her purr madly (which, when you think about it, sounds more like Timmy needs Prozac than the cat!). This cat ain't going on Prozac. Maybe that Vet Lady needs to up her own dosage.
Went for a haircut this afternoon, after the Vet. My hair stylist, Maxim, is so cool and nice, but I wonder sometimes why I go to him. He works at one of the priciest places in town, so I pay $45 plus a generous tip for him to trim half an inch off my hair. I should just go to Supercuts or wherever they have $12 haircuts. But it's fun going to the upscale place, and I know everyone there, and we all tell stories and gossip about people we know. A few months ago, a friend and I went to Mexico for her birthday, and went over to Club Med for dinner one night. Weirdly enough, we were seated at the same table as Maxim and his wife. It was a random/small world moment. We had a lot of fun, Maxim's wife is adorable, and we all got drunk and danced. My friend hooked up with this guy, and Maxim and his wife were really solicitous about making sure I got back to the condo where I was staying. So, we were gossipping about my friend and what a slut she is, haha, and I was telling him about the crazy Vet doctor. Then he's done cutting my hair, and he says, "Do you want me to do it curly?" (I have hair that can go curly or straight, depending how you blowdry it - Maxim loves it curly, I love it straight), and I was like, "no, straight, please." So, he sighs, and dries it straight. Then he's like, "want me to do it in a cute up-do?", and I was like, "no, it's okay, I'm not doing anything tonight." His face just falls. He takes off the little cape-thing I'm wearing and says, all hopeful, "how about some hairspray?", and I say, "no, it's okay." The stylist at the chair next to his leans over and says to me, "Honey, you're KILLING him!" I'm such a disappointment to Maxim, lol. Miss These?
|
|||||
