Oh my gatos: Help. My roommate's cat is in love with me.

So my roommate has this cat.

His name is George and he is in love with me. The only problem is... I'm allergic to cats. I have been my entire life, so I know absolutely nothing about cats besides the fact that they make my eyes itchy, my skin break out into hives, and cause my asthma to act up. I consider myself more of a dog person too and I have loved and trained our family dogs since they were puppies. I really love all animals and when I was little I wanted to be a veterinarian until my cat allergy- and the unfortunate thing where I tend to get dizzy and pass out over seeing blood- came to interfere with that dream. But that's something that we wont focus on for today.

Gosh Missy focus. FOCUS.


THIS IS WHY WE DON'T HAVE NICE THINGS. MY STUPID ADHD.

So anyways,  I don't like cats because I am allergic to them. I try to avoid them as often and possible and if I ever pet kittens (because come on, kittens are adorable and if you don't think so you are probably Satan.) I need to wash my hands like right away. Over the years I have found that I am more allergic to certain breeds of cats than I am to others. But I honestly don't know which.

Then I moved to St. George kind of last second and found an apartment right across the street from the University. It was perfect. I wouldn't have to pay for parking or worry about driving to school or being late. I could literally walk across the street and be to my class! Once I found out that it wasn't student housing and that there are essentially no rules besides pay your rent and don't break anything- I was all in.

Only problem is- my roommate has a cat.

Technically, we aren't allowed pets, but I am not a narc- so I just live with it. The roommate knows that I am allergic and was totally fine with giving George away to a friend if my allergy to him became too much.

So the past 4 months I have been avoiding this cat like the plague. The first month started out a bit rocky. George is a living cliché and very curious about my bedroom. So any time I would leave my door open, he would sneak into my room and investigate EVERYTHING. Like I would run to the bathroom and leave my door open for like not even a minute and come back and he would be there, languidly stretched out on my bed chillin' like he owned the place. I would freak the frack out, kick him out of my room and have to immediately wash all my bed sheets. (this happened a few more times until I got really good at remembering to close my door every time I left.)

I started using his name like a curse word whenever I would find him sneaking into my stuff.

GEORGE


REALLY GEORGE

DAMN IT GEORGE

GEORGE NO

GEORGE STAHP

GEOOOOORGE

GEORGE.

GEORGE WHY.

The second month consisted of he and I hating each other (mostly one sided with me hating him and him acting like he didn't care) but at least he left me alone for the most part and stopped sneaking into my room so much. I would let him outside a lot because he is mostly an outdoor cat  and him being outside meant less of his fur inside! I would ignore him for days at a time and refuse to interact with him in any way shape or form because I can't afford to get attached to an animal that I am allergic to and can't cuddle.

Then the third month came and with it came a homesickness and loneliness that had me missing my dogs back home. I started talking to George a bit more instead of talking to myself (cause that's crazy and if I am talking to an animal then everything seems normal, right?) I would be making food in the kitchen and George would mosey on in and kind of flick his tail all sassily at me and I would start complaining to him about work or school.

He started waiting outside for me to come home late from work and as I would unlock the front door, he would rub up against my legs making some weird humming noise that sounds something like a car idling at a stop light and my dad when he snores at night. (I have found this is something cats do called purring and I think it's a good thing.)

I would stand there all frustrated knowing that I would have to wash those pants later, but just take a deep breath and let him into the apartment, all the while muttering his curseword name under my breath like a personal mantra.

Really George. Really.

Then he started seeing my Netflix binging as an opportunity to make the first move and to let me know of his intentions. I would be sprawled out on the couch watching Parenthood and suddenly BOOM.

CAT ON MY LAP.

He would just sit there. And I was at a loss as to what to do because I can't really touch him to get him off my lap and I want minimal cat fur all over me...so I would just sit there, unmoving, hopelessly praying that he would get off me sooner rather than later.

Oh he is good. He knows. I'm not even kidding you. This cat knows.

He started acting all cutesy and cuddly, trying to break down my barely tolerant walls toward him. And slowly it's been working because I miss my dogs so much and just really love animals.

It's like a forbidden love. 

I would come home from a run and start stretching in the living room when he would suddenly be there curling up into my legs like, hey I know you have stretches to do, but I think this is a lot better way for you to spend your time. I mean, come on. Love me. Pet me. Here let me just brush my chin all over your knee getting my fur all over your jogging pants. Oh you don't like that? Here let me stretch out all the way. See, I'm human. I'm stretching with you. We are like a couple that does stretches together! That fur is just your imagination. There is no fur there. Just large amounts of my love for you, Missy.

And I would be sitting there all exasperated trying to figure out how to make this cat stop loving me. I would open the door and say, "George. Outside." expecting him to get all excited and go running out the door like my dogs back home would have. But instead, he would give me this contemptuous look and start licking his front paw like I wasn't even there.

I WANTED TO PULL OUT MY HAIR. LIKE FREAKING CAT GO OUTSIDE. LISTEN TO ME. I AM A HUMAN- YOU ARE NOT. I NEED TO STRETCH AND YOU WONT LET ME. STAHP THIS NONSENSE NOW GEORGE. I REFUSE TO LOVE YOU. I CAN'T LOVE YOU-I AM ALLERGIC TO YOU.

But did George care? Ooooh no. He would just meander past me and flick his tail in my face so I would start sneezing.

Little prick.

Then I discovered one night that he liked people food. I honestly had no idea cats like to eat human food. I thought just my dogs would eat anything you handed them. But here I was watching Netflix and George decided he needed a cuddle from the one person that couldn't give it to him, and sat on my lap while I was eating a Spicy McChicken. He looked at me and I looked back, unmoving hoping this cuddle would pass quickly, when he started sniffing the food in my hand. So, I decided to feed him a piece of lettuce.

HE ATE IT.

I was so shocked! I started feeding him little pieces of food whenever I was home to see what he would eat and what he wouldn't. (he doesn't like apples)

I now have decided that feeding him human food was a bad idea because he WONT LEAVE ME ALONE NOW.

Anytime I have food he will jump on my lap and wont move until I give him something. If I refuse to feed him some human food he will sit on the remote control so I can't watch the next episodes of my TV shows.

Other times he will be sitting around chilling and the second I sit down alone on the couch (if anyone else is in the room he treats me with a cold indifference) but the second I am alone he will jump off his perch and meow at me and curl up on my lap and start purring like a maniac. It's like the more I try to hate this thing the more he is like LOVE ME. LOVE ME YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO. I REFUSE TO BE DENIED YOUR LOVE.

I eventually started petting him, not sure if I was doing it right because I am only used to petting dogs. But he seems to really like it. And if he doesn't he will usually bite my hand. (he isn't a very nice cat.) Sometimes when I come home late at night and he is already inside he likes to plan sneak attacks that scare the tar out of me. He will hide behind a corner and jump out at me and attack my leg and then dart behind the couch when I scream.

I think he is just trying to keep me on my toes or something. I really have no idea what is going on. All I know is that this cat is either really in love with me, or really likes to torment me. Maybe those things are one in the same to him. All I know is that cats are weird creatures and I'm semi okay with his company right now.

The Kiss Contest

It's a beautiful Sunday. The sun is shining, the sky is this crisp peacock blue, people are out riding their bikes, having picnics and throwing the ol pigskin around.... and me? I am online, refusing to get out of bed and put on pants, because reasons. My hair is doing this curly poof thing that I can't seem to tame, and I feel like the epitome of rachet. I refuse to leave the recesses of my room to be seen by any other members of society. My roommates probably think I am a vampire or some sort of weirdo.


Okay. Okay. They already think I am a weirdo, with my whole aversion to wearing pants around the apartment and my nocturnal habits. Those things aren't helping my image any...


Thank God I don't have a boyfriend. I would have to try to actually look cute and act normal-ish. Hell no thanks! I've learned that being crazy up front scares anyone that could possibly become a bother away and I am free to live my life without pants and limitless Taco Bell! This is the life. Seriously.

All ya'll bitches out there complainin' that you can't get a date or a girlfriend/boyfriend don't have your priorities straight. 80% of my socks are single and you don't see them complaining about it.


I have dating evasion tactics down PAT. How many times can you say, "I don't want a boyfriend." until people actually leave you alone?

Not enough apparently. If people start flirtexting me I sometimes send them pics of Michael Cera until they go away.


See, I'm not used to getting attention from dudes. Most of my friends growing up were guys and when I hung out with them I was always seen as, "one of the guys." So I am familiar with the nasty shit guys do. I'm like the unicorn of the group when they suddenly remember, "Oh yeah! Missy is a girl! Ask her why that chick you're texting wont call you back."


Um. Maybe I'm not the best person to translate girl talk into bro talk. Cause I don't give a shit either way and I don't get me half the time, so how am I supposed to understand some girl I don't even know and explain to you in the most simple of terms that you've been friend-zoned? Sorry brah.


I've had a total of 4 boyfriends in my experience. My dating resume is subpar and to be honest one of those boyfriends doesn't really even count cause it was like only 3 months my senior year of high school and I didn't really even like the guy. I just went out with him to placate my friends. When I got sick of him trying to hold my hand all the time, I dumped him with the clichéd "it's not you it's me. I'm just so busy with school that I don't have time for a boyfriend, but let's still be friends!" shpeel.



Yeaaaah I don't know what the hell I am doing half the time.



I had a rule that I only kissed boys if they were my boyfriend and my second boyfriend was so terrified of me punching him in the throat that it took him 6 months to finally grow the balls to kiss me. (That was after I confronted him and demanded to know why he hadn't kissed me yet after dating for 6 freaking months.) What? I'm blunt okay? And I don't have time to play those stupid games. Eff that! So all in all I had only kissed 4 boys my entire life. Something I didn't really like telling people cause I got teased for being a prude growing up.



So. Fast forward to Mexico. I'm with my volunteer group (consisting of only girls) and after about a week Mauriah gets bored and is like, "Guys. I would like to propose a game. A contest of sorts."


And me, I'm the most competitive person out there and I'm just freaking stoked to actually be doing something besides crying into my Learn Spanish Now! book every night. So I'm like- "I'm in! What's the game?"



"The person that kisses the most Mexicans at the end of this semester wins."

....


I'm deadpan over here like, are you freaking kidding me. I can't even talk to a cute guy at the store without stuttering like an idiot. You expect me to kiss someone I can't even talk to with in the same language?? Insta-fail.



I look at the other girls thinking that they would be less than enthused about this game too, but they were all nodding their heads going, "A prize. We need a prize for the winner." "Make it churros!" "Yeah! A whole bag of churros!"

, Fate
Screams internally.


I'm over here like a fish opening and closing my mouth freaking out inside cause there is no way in hell I can play this Mile High Mexico game. And if we play I know I am going to have to win and I just don't even know how I am even going to do it.



"It's decided. The person that kisses the most Mexicans wins a bag of churros."



And just like that. My fate was decided.

Turtle Mode

I guess family things here are a lot like family gatherings in the States.  Everyone is outside running around trying to get the food ready. Random aunts and uncles are talking in groups and the people that don't really know anyone/are introverts/feel awkward hide in a random room doing random things cause they're bored.

Take a wild guess as to which group I am in.

Yup, I am in the awkward group hiding in a random bedroom with the kiddies and my host sister's boyfriend Gustavo.

When the anniversary funeral procession came into the house grounds like a small parade with a mariachi band playing (I guess the priest forgot to show up at the church for the service. The family was freaking out.)

My host family took some Goblet of Fire thing that was billowing smoke and had the smoke blow on this flower wreath thing in the shape of a cross. My host niece Diana and I were in charge of lighting candle sticks and handing them out to everyone.

We fucked that up pretty fast. We lost the box of matches and I still don't know where they went...

We then retreated to the bedroom with hot chocolate. Gustavo, Jesus, and little Vanessa soon joined us and we all piled on the bed, bored out of our minds because there was no Wi-Fi. We ended up doing cartwheels and I tried teaching Jesus how to do a proper one. He was just starting to get the hang of it when my host mom came in and got mad at me for hiding. So, I had to go outside and help serve tables bread and coffee to everyone, much to my dismay. (my calling in life is to be a server-I swear)


I felt so stupid being the only blonde white girl in a huge group of Mexicans, asking people if they wanted more conchas in my crappy Spanish. Everyone kept looking at me and asking me where I was from. It's embarrassing all this attention I am getting. I don't know how to handle it. It makes me feel so shy. In Utah I'm just an average girl. Nothing special. But here in Mexico my blonde hair and blue eyes are seen as exotic, something alluring and desirable. I hate standing out, I just want to blend in here. I'm tempted to dye my hair brown again so I can fly under the radar.

A guy at one of the tables started trying to speak to me in English (kind of making fun of me) and I responded in kind in Spanish and basically said, "You speak English? Cool story bro." and walked away.



After I finished serving everyone, I retreated again into the bedroom only to have Diana and Gustavo laugh at me for getting roped into having to help.

BAH.

I then started chatting with my host brother who came down from Mexico City for the party and I totally forgot his name (it's Pedro by the way) and I awkwardly said, "Well Pedro. I'd vote for you."

He kinda laughed, so maybe he has seen Napoleon Dynamite? I honestly doubt it though...

-Pedro offers you his protection.

The night ended with my host dad taking me around introducing me to everyone as his Gringa Hija and kept making me quack at these two old guys. I think their nicknames are Quack Quack and the other dude's is Qui Qui? I dunno, but all I know is that when my host dad points to one and asks who he is, I say Quack Quack or Qui Qui and everyone bursts out laughing.

I  honestly have no idea what in the world is going on.

WTF Mexico.

#yolojesusswag

Religion is weird.

I have come to this realization.

All organized religions are full of really strange and creepy messed up stuff if you look at them in the right light.

My new host family has been planning this big shindig for the year anniversary of the grandmother’s death for MONTHS now. They literally have made invitations, bought all these flowers, took all the food stuff to Pueblo (where the dead grandma’s house is) to prepare it all. There is this GIANT pot thing full of some soupy sauce substance that I suspect COULD be Mole, but I’m not sure. They have propped it up on these bricks and put hot coals underneath it. Leaves from the trees keep blowing into it and I try not to think too deeply about eating it later…cause there ARE giant basil looking leaves already in it, so…

My host sister saw a leaf blow into the soup mole stuff and was like, “Oh no!” she hurried and snatched it out, looked up at the sky wondering where it came from, looked at me and said something in Spanish that maybe meant, “Ah, eff it. There are leaves in there already. It belongs.”

AND PUT IT BACK IN!

I kinda took a little nap in one of the side rooms cause I got bored. I think my other host sister is a little annoyed at me for it. Whelp yolo.

I got up and stirred said Mole for like 5 minutes trying to be all: hey! I’m here! I’m contributing to I’m not really sure what, but please don’t hate me for falling asleep!

They have made some sort of floral arrangement around a pic of the grandma and a giant-ass statue of the Virgin Mary. It’s pretty cool actually. There are candles lit inside the house by like 4 different statues reenacting the crucifixion and there are also several pictures of Jesus crying with thorns on his head. There is also one picture of Jesus partying with his homies one last night with all this food at the table and his hands are spread out like, “Look at all the fucks I give.” as he laughs yolo in the face.

Still. Pretty morbid. Makes me wonder if I will ever have a set religion. Mormonism sucks and isn’t true. Research kind of blew that one out of the water for me. Catholicism is a bit morbid and I don’t believe saying a certain amount of Hail Marys is going to help save my soul. Plus, The Crusades. (and I’m not diggin’ naked bleeding Jesus all splayed out on the cross.)

I think I am at the point now where I think all religions have good qualities, but are just kinda psycho. Kind of like your crazy Aunt Pearl your family doesn’t really talk about much. You laugh and smile and make polite conversation during holidays when you see her, but you don’t ask her for too many details of her life cause you really don’t wanna know what is going  on up in that head of hers.

 Also, follow the money trail. Money, greed, power and control are ALL present in large organized religions. And sorry, I’m not buying into something that wants my money for their benefit disguised as giving to the poor and needy.

So, I think I’ll just continue stumbling around like the town drunk, looking for truth and finding the crazy instead.

Maybe the only truth there is in life is that there is NO truth.

Only small truths you believe in and hold onto at night, so as not to feel like you are freefalling into nothing.

For the purpose of nothing.

Day 3 of no toilet paper....

Day 3 of no toilet paper.

I AM DYING.

 But no really, I am going nuts here. Luckily, my some miracle of God, a roll of toilet paper found it’s way into one of my suitcases and I have been using that BUT I AM RUNNING OUT. THINGS ARE GETTING DIRE.

I’m gonna go all Hunger Games up in here!

Oho! Speaking of Hunger. My host family, though hilarious at times, doesn’t really…well… feed me.

Like there is no food anywhere in the house.

I’m not joking. Thank God I was able to find some Nutella at the Bodega Aurrera or I would be dead right now.

Yeah so much for a bikini bod for summer this year. HA!

Also, they fracking eat BUGS here! No joke. My host dad showed me some messed up YouTube videos of people putting salamanders up their buttholes and people eating these live beetle things that supposedly cure cancer.

I was…freaked out. To say the least.

I’ve also been holed up in my room sicker than a dog since Sunday. I am going nuts. I’ve spent way too much time on Facebook. I should really study my Spanish textbook or get a running schedule going, but I decided to paint my fingernails black instead. It makes me feel hardcore.

Priorities.

I tried showering today so I didn’t smell like death and Mexico, but we don’t have hot water again, for like the hundredth time in a row. I think the water heater is broken again. I’m getting really tired of not having hot water or toilet paper. We also run out of drinking water for days at a time. Once we went like 3 days without any drinking water in the house. I was like, oooookay. I could really use a water purifier thingie right now.

I survive my nights here by watching Gilmore Girls ad snuggling with my heating blanket (See: Lifesaver)

I wonder if there are water purifier thingies that can make your pee drinkable. Random thought, but I think it could be useful here….

New Year-New Country! Mexico 2014

I never would have thought that I'd be spending my New Years in a different country! Especially not Mexico of all places. But, here I am, lying on a bed that is a bit concaved in the middle looking at my bedroom door that doesn't shut all the way. I put my suitcase in front of it at night to keep it shut.

And I don't mind it.

I can't say that I love it yet, because I am still in some sort of shock and I am processing it all, but I think I'm okay right now. I've only been here for three days and I have had so much happen to me already! When I was in the SLC Airport, I passed through the revolving security scanner thing, the security guard looked at me as I was stepping out and said, "Welcome to Portland."

And I thought something had gone horribly wrong.

Also, the volunteer program representative that was supposed to be there with all my paperwork and documentation to get into Mexico wasn't there at first. So, me in a blind panic, I go up to some random old dude and tearfully ask to borrow his phone. The poor guy probably would have given me his own plane ticket.

Not having a cell phone sucks balls!

It all ended up working out and I got to my connecting flight from Phoenix with only 5 minutes to spare where I met up with 2 other volunteers in my program, Davina and Ashlynn. I fell asleep on the flight to Mexico, even though I had a window seat. (I can't sit still for more than a few hours without going crazy and needing something to distract me from sitting still. Windows are my lifeline on buses and planes.)

I kept falling asleep so deeply that I'd forget that I was on a plane and when there would be turbulence I would jump awake all panicky and startle the poor Mexican woman sitting next to me. I still kinda feel bad for her. Haha

We landed in Mexico City, made it through customs and I learned my lesson about bringing all the supplies for the school in a second suitcase.

Don't ever pack a second large suitcase on top of having a carry on. It will ruin your life.

While I was waiting in line for the bathroom to freaking pee, some drunk dude was causing a scene and tons of security had to run over and escort him out. He was shouting some pretty choice cuss words!

Welcome to Mexico!

We then found an employee from the school we would be teaching at, Edwin (see also: man whore)  and he got us onto a bus that took us to the city of Puebla to catch our connecting bus to Tehuacan, where we would be living until May.

The second bus from Puebla to Tehuacan was, uh, interesting. I was seated next to this old Mexican guy that WOULD NOT STOP TALKING TO ME. I just wanted to freaking finish reading my book and he just kept asking me questions about it and I was like, "I don't even know how to explain this book to you in English, let alone Spanish, hombre."

He then kept getting WAAAY to familiar with me and grabbed my hands and told me my small hands were pianist’s hands. He kept asking me if I played the piano. Super weirded out I just pulled my hand back and said, "Um. Gracias?"

He then held my hand and told me we were making memories and he then kissed my cheek and kept trying to go in for a real kiss! I was just so shocked and terrified that I didn't know what to do or how to say, "Back off creep before I cut off your hand and super glue it to those lips you keep trying to kiss me with."

He freaking kept pinching my arm too! I was like, "Uh. Please stop." Finally after him keeping on about the kissing thing I told him, "No. No, gracias." And I tried to explain that in America we don't do that. We shake hands. He kind of backed off, but I was a little traumatized and praying to God that we were almost to our destination. Which, luckily, we were!

We got off the bus where our host families were waiting for us and the Area Advisor in our program sorted us into our host families.

I felt like Penny from The Rescuers and that I was being adopted or something. Just instead of cute mice from Australia, I had cockroaches from Mexico.

This wasn't looking too good.

My host family doesn’t speak any English, aside from the 16 year old daughter. And they were grinning from ear to ear as they helped me put my luggage into their car. They kept going on about how they couldn't believe how old I was and how long and beautiful my hair was. And what color were my eyes again? They kept going on about how small and young I look. I just smiled and nodded, really having no idea how to communicate with these people in their language.

They took me to some shady back ally street place and bought me Esquites (a Styrofoam cup half filled with straight Mayonnaise and half filled with corn and chili powder) it was freaking nasty. I was chewing this mint gum and didn't want litter and spit it out onto the street so I just kept it in my mouth and tried to eat this disgusting concoction that they all seemed to love at the same time.  Mint gum and Mayo corn don't go well together.

I was just a little more traumatized after eating this thing.

Their entire extended family then came and met up with us in the street and they were all taking pictures with me. They kept pushing me at this Uncle guy to take pictures with him and he kept blushing and saying stuff in rapid Spanish to everyone that I couldn't understand. I couldn't help but think, Dear Lord. Don't tell me they signed up as a Host family to get this guy an American girlfriend. I will freaking kill myself. This is way too Better Off Dead for me. I feel like that poor Foreign French exchange student that had the hard on for John Cusack the entire movie. EXCEPT I DON'T HAVE A FREAKING JOHN CUSACK TO BACK ME UP.

I finally just faked a headache and they eventually took me to their house. When we walked inside the dad told me that I would be sleeping on the couch. I think he was hoping to get a reaction out of me and I honestly was too tired to care. I would have curled up on the floor to sleep if I had to. I just looked at him and asked, "Okay, where do I change my clothes?" Pouting that I didn't freak out, he took me to my bedroom on the roof and the family said their good nights and I passed out.

Overall, I get the feeling I am never going to be the same after this. I hope that's a good thing!

M Out!