Tag Archives: cats

Ann R. and John D. (former Cats)

15 Apr

John: The photo was my idea. An homage if you will, to how me met–

Ann: We met in 1999…

John: Yes, right before Y2k–

Ann: Do you still have those stupid 2000 glasses you bought in Times Square?

John: My…what ever did happen to those?

YDKM: So you were saying you met—

Ann: Oh yes, 1999. We were doing Cats

John: Not on Broadway, it was a regional–

Ann: So what if it was regional? It was still fucking Cats

John: Honey, the baby. Breathe. No yelling. Remember what the doctor said about going into labor while angry–

Ann: I have anger issues. My mother was an asshole…anyway, so we were doing Cats, in Sandusky, Ohio–

John: Great little town by the way.  You think the chili is good in Cincinatti? You haven’t eaten perfection until you’ve had a bowl of Sandusky’s finest beans-n-meat–

Ann: What the fuck is beans-n-meat?

John: That’s what they call chili in Sandusky–

Ann: Says who?

John: Ahhh, the Sanduskians?

(Ed note: Ann gave John a very dirty look at this point of the conversation)

Ann: (sighs) So, anyway, he was playing Rum Tum Tugger–

John: (singing) The Rum Tum Tugger is a curious cat! If you offer me pheasant, I’d rather have grouse–

Ann: Do you ALWAYS have to be singing–

John: Well I am a musical theater ac-tor honey. That’s what we do. We sing–

Ann: I got my start playing Annie and you don’t see me belting out The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow every other fucking minute of the day do you?

John: Ummm…

Ann: (shouting) Do you?!?

John: (meekly) No.

Ann: So he was Rum Tug Tugger, and I was Grizabella, the former Glamour Cat who has lost her sparkle and now only wants to be accepted…

John: (sotto) Oh how life does imitate art–

Ann: What did you say?

John: (sheepishly) Ahem…I said that life does imitate art–

Ann: What the fuck does that mean?

Silence.

Ann: Huh? Are you saying I’m old? That I’ve lost my fucking sparkle!?! Is that what you’re saying?

John: No, well, it’s just that you seem to have lost your joie de vivre these days–

Ann: Lost my joie de vivre! Are you fucking serious? Number one, who says that? Joie de vivre. You’re a walking affectation. And number two, I’ve got a ten pound ham sitting on my kidneys! I want to piss every five minutes. How would you like to be kicked in the gut 24 hours a day? Huh? Not to mention my ass has turned into cottage cheese…my tits feel like bowling balls. I used to be a size 2, now I have to wear a moo-moo. Why don’t you try walking around with a stomach the size of Sacramento and then talk to me about your joie de fucking vivre!

John: Honey…

Ann: Take your honey and shove it up your ass, John. Where the sun don’t shine!

YDKM: We can always reschedule the interview for another day if that would be better–

Ann: No, let’s finish this here and now. John, I’ve been wanting to say this to you for years. You’re a pussy. Not a cat. A pussy.

John: Why, I never–

YDKM: Seriously, why don’t we do this another day. I can totally come back another day–

John: That might be a good idea. I think the hormones are talking–

Ann: No, John, it’s all me. All me! You’re driving me crazy!! Everyone said don’t do it. Don’t marry John, he’s gay, he’s annoying, he sings to himself…but I said fuck it. I was single, and turning 35 and all my other friends were married, and all the guys on Match.com were short and hairy so I said fuck it. I settled John. There I said it. I settled. I don’t really like you, John. Let’s face it–

YDKM:  Umm, I think your water just broke.

(Ed: note. Ann’s water did break. It was all over the floor at this point. And let me tell you, water breaking in real life is WAY more nasty then they make it look on ER. Like really nasty. And stinky. If this blog had smell-o-vision you all would be gagging. Big time.)

John: OMG! Honey! The baby!

Ann: Oh shit. Great. John, get the car–

YDKM: Well thanks for taking the time to talk to us today. Great meeting you both. Really. Best of luck.

John: No. Thank YOU, You Don’t Know Me. And don’t forget to come back next month…I’ll be playing Hen-ry Higgins at the local thea-ter—

Ann: John. The car. Now.

John: Yes, Honey. Here I go…

(Ed: note. John and Ann left at this point, but not before John shoved a flier for the Schaumberg playhouse’s Spring rendition of My Fair Lady in my pocket.)

-As told to You Don’t Know Me by Ann & John D. ages 44 and 35, Schaumberg, Illinois.

Marshmallow aka Queen of Sheba (in past) aka Mr. Powerfill (in future)

7 Apr

LOL white man. You make laugh all day at computer screen at me expense. You see. When I get head out of melon head I be going to shit in you face when you take nap. I read Shirley MacLaine Out on Limb. She me role leader. And she say I have many lives, not because I a cat, but because we all get recycle by God. Me past life I was Queen of Sheba and I rule over many peoples and get feeds grapes all days by men with no penis sticks.

But that then. We talk now. Now you think I dumb dumb cat who like eating fish out of can, but you see. In next life I come back and I find you. And me be very Mr. Powerfill person who make lots of dollar bills and you be stupid bug, and you crawl in me house one day and I crush you with me feet. I wearing fancy loafer by the ways. Like that. You die. And me get last laugh. Not you and your joke put melon on my head. Take that bug. You die. And me life. And me rich. And wear fancy loafer. Who make LOL now? You see.

Any of you persons have melon head opener? My ears need scratch!

-As told to You Don’t Know Me by Marshmallow 12 (human years), Tokyo, Japan.

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