Tuesday, 31 January 2012


I envy the way you all wake up. Your alarm:

See? 7:30… a NORMAL time to get up. Even considered sleeping in for most. Even the nice heart stopping “beep beep beep” is amazing.

How do I wake up? How do I wake up pretty much EVERY FUCKING DAY? Well let me tell you.

It all starts with Gir. My beautiful cat.

 He starts early, very softly meowing at the door. But the tone he does it in is kind of like a gentle “hey… hey… hey…” This is usually 40 minutes before I have to get up. It’s easy to tune out.

Then soon after, Lu joins in.

Everything he says sounds like a question. So I get the chorus of “Hey.. hey? Hey… hey? Hey… hey?”.

This is slightly less easy to ignore, but I can usually fall right back to sleep. And then…

HE comes in. Monkey. The devil of all cats. He throws himself against the door, slamming his shoulder into it, dragging his paws down it screaming “HEY! HEY!!!!! GET OUT OF BED, BITCH AND FEED ME! HEY! HEY!”

This cannot be tuned out. It cannot be tuned out at all. The slamming against the door, the screaming meow, all of it.  Finally, I drag my ass out of bed, open the door and:

Nothing. All cats are gone. If I go back to bed, it starts up again…

Why don’t I just let them sleep with me? Well, the thing about this is the door is in the way. Which is easier throughout the night. Usually they leave me alone til about 6:45am. I made the mistake one night of letting them in and about an hour later:

“PFFT!” I said to myself, I can just pull the blanket over my head. Smugly I do so.

About five minutes after that, there was a strange rustling at the foot of the bed…

Followed by:

Yeah. Damn you all and your alarm clock. I will TRADE you.

Monday, 9 January 2012

I can get away with murder

It’s completely true. I can get away with murder. I’ve watched pretty much all the versions of CSI, even the crappy one with the guy that gives skeezy stares to EVERYONE:

What I’ve learned from years of this is that I can commit the perfect crime. That’s right. I can kill you in your sleep and make it look like a complete accident. I’m like a ninja.

But one you don’t see:

An invisible ninja that is dressed like a cat:

It’s fucking terrifying, right? That’s right. So don’t piss me off. Because I’ll invisible cat ninja your ass, and no one will ever know.

“Oh what if they interrogate you anyway?”

Ha. Luckily I’ve got that covered too. If in the rare event this happens:

I know exactly what to do. I will be me. How will this work in my favour? Well, let me tell you how by explaining a story…

I was in the hospital with my friend, who had just been given morphine. Her eyes kept scanning going one direction really slow then right back to the other one really really fast.

Me: Uh, what the hell are you doing?

Her: Well, you know when you watch people walk?

Me: Frequently, yes…

Her: When you’re on morphine, they walk really really slow. Like, your eyes go normal speed but they’re trying to catch up to them. AND THEN THE DOG CATCHES THE FRISBEE!!!

Me: The dog… whatnow?

Her: You know, the dog. It catches the Frisbee.

Me: There is no dog in here. I’m pretty sure half that conversation just happened in your head and I wasn’t even part of it…

Her: Yeah… It’s kinda like talking to you.

That’s right, folks. Talking to me is like talking to someone high on morphine. And that’s me on a NORMAL day.

So, should I get called in for interrogation, it’ll probably go like this:

That’s right. I can get away with murder. You better watch yourself, because I’m like Chuck Norris, if he were an invisible cat ninja named Karin.

Scared? Yeah, I know you are. It’s ok. I would be to. If I weren’t me. DUN DUN DUN *scary invisible cat ninja theme music*

Sunday, 1 January 2012

My First Love

As with almost every person on the planet, I fell in love early. I loved him more than I loved Lady Lovely Locks, the Easy Bake Oven* and My Little Pony. Combined. Riding a rainbow wave of delicious gummy bears:

But not orange gummy bears, because they’re the devil:

Yes… More than that.

Please note: I was five at the time

Who did I love, you ask? Well duh:

That’s right. I loved La Bamba himself. Ritchie Valens.

I would wander around the house singing his songs ALL DAY.

I planned our wedding on a daily basis. He would sing “Oh Donna” (changing it to “Oh Karin” though, obviously) as I walked down the isle, and we’d fly off into the sunset together on our way to our honeymoon where we’d go to West Edmonton Mall and stay with my grandparents (again, I was FIVE). Looking back on it, I’m thinking the plane ride was a bad idea….

One day on “mommy/daughter day” my mom decided that we should watch a movie together. Since she fully supported my love of Ritchie (because it’s sooooooooooooooooooooooooo cute), she decided it would be a great idea to watch….

Yes. My mother decided that watching a movie that ended with THE DEATH of the love of my young life, was an awesome idea. I’m pretty sure she didn’t remember that it was a movie based on his rise (and big assed fall…) in the music world.

Then she looked at me…

That’s right, mom. This was a TERRIBLE idea. My tiny little heart broke into a million pieces. I cried and cried and cried for days. I sat in the corner of the living room crying to myself while singing “Oh Donna” in a wavering, heartbroken tiny voice.

It got to be too much for my parents. Finally my dad pulled me aside one day and explained something to me.

Ritchie Valens had been dead for almost 30 years. ALMOST THIRTY FREAKING YEARS. This started a whole new train of thought. What the fuck, mom. You let me plan my wedding to a GHOST? That’s just friggin’ sick!!!! Think of the children!!!!!

After that discussion, my love of Ritchie faded very very very quickly. I moved on to a new love.

Yes. Flying Spanish mice/human babies made more sense than ghost/human babies. Complete sense.

*I always wanted an Easy Bake Oven, but to this day, I still never had one. The broken hearted five year old inside me is still longing for it. Fuck you, normal grown up oven in my kitchen. You’re not the same. Not the same at ALL.