I'm Better Than Your Cat

I grew up in a pet-less household and, essentially, I’m extremely awkward around all animals.  Dealing with animals is a lot like learning a language. If you don’t correctly learn how to do it by a certain age, you’re accidentally going to say something horribly offensive that gets you kicked out of the dinner party. Everyone has pets, though. Multiple pets. In every variety. Everyone volunteers at animal shelters on weekends and tears up when they hear Sarah McLachlan songs that remind them of puppies. My lack of exposure to domesticated creatures has left me confused on some fronts.

Let’s take cats, for instance. Millions of people have cats that they LOVE. People adore their cats. Do you know how many people love me right now? Eight. And I share genes with all of them. What is this nonsense? I’m drastically better than a cat! I’d bet I’m better than your cat! You should definitely love me instead.

REASONS I AM BETTER THAN YOUR CAT:

1) Your cat cannot be your designated driver. He does not have his driver’s license, and he would totally mess up all your car settings. Have you seen his legs? I’d be shocked if his feet reached the pedals. All in all, this is an extremely unsafe, terrible option. I am clearly the better choice for this task.

2) You are much less likely to accidentally kill me than your cat. I will not slip under your garage door as it’s closing and climb onto the second story roof with reckless abandon and no realistic plan to get back down.  I will never climb under the hood of your vehicle and fry when you turn the engine on; I cannot fit! You’re also probably never going to run over me with your car, but if you did I could walk away simply horribly injured! Kitty’s a goner here, just save yourself this cat-death guilt and pick me.

3) Your cat cannot proofread your papers. He has basically no verbal abilities and  his vocabulary kind of sucks. Can he identify the use of active and passive voice? Reword the sentences you end in prepositions? Didn’t think so. I, on the other hand, can and will!  

4) There is no box in your house full of my excrement. This is more than Mr. Whisker’s can say.

Actually, anything I say is more than he can say; again, no verbal skills.

5) Your cat can’t cook you breakfast. Wake up Friday morning with a grumbling in your tummy? You will not find Fluffy wearing a seersucker apron making a fresh batch of Eggs Benedict; he can’t cook! Okay, in all honesty, neither can I, but I could totally learn. Or I could drive you to Denny’s and buy you Eggs Benedict. Your cat is not financially stable and again, he is incapable of driving.

In summary:

Cat=unable to learn to cook.

Ann= mostly unwilling.

6) Your cat can’t show you funny videos on the Internet. His lack of opposable thumbs makes typing a chore, and he’ll never remember your Wi-Fi password. If you’re bored on a Sunday afternoon I’ll show you Aziz Ansari stand up clips and we can watch TV shows on my Hulu Plus account. Does your cat even have a Hulu Plus account?

7) I do not require a pet sitter. I am way more self-sufficient than your cat. If you want to take an impromptu summer long excursion to Paraguay, you can just go! No need to hire an Ann-sitter, I can look after myself. Also, you could take me with you to Paraguay. I’m an excellent travel companion.

I’m not as cute as your cat and I may be more annoying. But your litter-box-scooping,  scratched-up- furniture days could be over if you decided to love me instead of your cat. I’ll settle for being loved equally, but Feline Dion is under no circumstances allowed to use my Hulu account. 

Everybody Hates Bowling.

You read this post title and immediately reacted by thinking, "Hold it right there, missy! I love bowling! I used to be on a league! The beers are only a quarter! It's wonderful bonding!"

You do not love bowling. Actually, you don't even like bowling. Not in the slightest. I've compiled a list of 10 reasons that you do in fact, hate this activity and why you should vow to never bowl again in your existence.

10. Bowling is the one game where everyone loses. Oh, you bowled a 300? Cool beans! I do indeed mean that in an "I am so terribly sorry your life is so horribly vapid that this is the only skill you can think of to brag about" way. This isn't chess which, while incredibly lame at times, allowed you to think more logically in life than any of your peers. This is trying to get a cumbersome object to roll in a straight line. The better you're get at bowling, the worse you're getting at living. 

9. The other bowlers. Every time you enter a bowling alley you're accepting the fact that your percentage of getting kidnapped and/or raped had increased considerably. The lighting is bad, the bowling alley is undoubtedly located in a horrible part of town, and the look in the eyes of the regular bowlers screams that they are just desperate enough to do anything. 

The fear isn't what will affect you most though. It's the stomach-dropping waves of pity you will feel towards the crowds of unkempt, over-the-hill adults who are living under the delusion that this is the best possible place to spend a Friday night. 

8. The music.  Bowling alleys are infamous for playing "feel-good" hits of today that will make you contemplate dropping the ball on your foot so you'll have an excuse to leave. Seriously, the amount of Train's "Hey, Soul Sister" on comes with a side effect a nausea and you will find yourself haphazardly singing along with Hot Chelle Rae's "Tonight, tonight" even though you're fully aware it is indeed the worst song of all time.

7. The balls are really heavy. Admit it, tough guy. We all secretly scour the premise to find one of the two six pound balls that is pink and sparkly and won't break your fingers off if you hold it in one hand alone. Whenever I bowl my fingers are sore for the next few days, which is comparable to knitting except at least with knitting you get a scarf. With bowling, you just get frustration and a stomachache. Which leads me to my next point:

6. The food. It's the kind of greasy, guilt-inducing food that you usually love to eat except it's  disgusting. I have microwaved a bag of 3 dollar chicken strips that were generic brand from Wal- Mart and sat in my freezer for four months past the "best  if used by date" that would send bowling cuisine back to the kitchen to pack their knives. Yet, you will eat it. You will eat too much of it and you will pay more than you would pay at Chili's for an app and an entree. You will do this partly because you're hungry, but primarily because you're bored. And as you down shots of Pepto like their Soco lime several hours later, you will vow to never return to a bowling alley again. 

5. The waiting. What other pass time do you delve into with your friends where you spend the greater part of the evening standing, waiting for your turn to participate? And yes, standing, not sitting as there are never enough chairs. This seems like it could have been a very simple predicament to immediately solve, yet the Alley Architects undoubtedly engaged in a dialogue that went like this: 


 "How many bowlers should we allow in each lane?"

"Six, definitely."

"Okay, well people will obviously want to rest when they are not busy hurling a lead ball down a slick wooden floor. What's say we put one chair right by each lane, but attach them so we can create a confusing situation for young women who accidentally sit in the seat of a chubby man with a neck beard?"

"That sounds excellent. But what about the rest of the bowlers?"

"No worries, we'll get more tables and chairs than maximum capacity could ever allow and put them far enough away that no one will sit in them."

"Perfect."

4. Forced hiatus from cell phones. During the tremendous amount of free time you will have while waiting to embark on a task you are by no means eager to perform, you will want nothing more than to text a high school acquaintance that you do not miss to discuss the sorority you do not care she is in. Nothing will be a higher priority to you at this moment. 

But you can't. Because while you've always had perfect cell phone service,

(with the exception of that Moe's by the movie theater), your phone's service will disappear. It will be taken so quickly and so abruptly that by the time the Amber Alert is issued you know in your gut it's too late. You may never see it again.  

3. Black lights/lasers. The last time I went bowling I wore a dark grey shirt that was by no means see through over a bra that was the exact color of my flesh. It made no difference. Those nonsensical purple bulbs lit my undergarment up in the same of fashion those Crest White Strips did that time you accidentally fell asleep with them on, and slept for eighteen straight hours. Then the lasers come in. For a brief moment, you will get excited until you remember "wait, this isn't my seventeenth birthday and I'm not at a Cobra Starship concert." 

2. Germs. They're everywhere. You're not a "germaphobe". The last time you used hand sanitizer was on that cruise you took to Mexico because well, everyone was doing it and it appeared to be that Norwegian girl's only job. But think about it, those shoes? They're someone else's. Four hundred and fifty two humans (probably more) male or female, have put their possibly sans sock hoof inside of them. And they're mandatory because the bowling establishments do not want to damage their beautiful floors. Absolutely no harm can befall their precious lumber, except the repeated chucking of an eighteen-pound ball on them. This is allowed. 

And how many people have touched that ball just in the course of time you've been there? Twelve? Then add everyone else all day along with entire existence of the ball. Even if the staff cleans them daily, you better hope Neckbeard over there washed his hands after that trip he took to the bathroom fifteen minutes after he devoured that plate of nachos. Too gross? So is that bowling ball.

1. You will always have to go back. My junior year in high school I loudly proclaimed to my friends and the strangers in our local Alley Katz that I despised bowling and was resigning from the experience altogether. I had never been so sure of anything in my life as I was that I would never bowl again. I went as far as to document the experience photographically in a Facebook album entitled "I hate bowling." 

I've been at least twice since. Never by choice. For some reason when people think "hey, let's do something besides go to that awesome bar that we love so we can all connect with one another on a deeper level entirely", bowling is the only option that comes to mind. You'll fight it, you'll resist, but two hours later you'll be holding you're iPhone way above your head trying desperately to get bars as you place your second order for cheese fries.