Way of the Future

I'm sad for my special man friend, I think I'm getting the "Howard Hughes Dirty Hands" disease (aka obsessive-compulsive disorder), and I am once again baffled by Mardi Gras.

Someone has a case of the Mondays...

First and foremost, Pablo Honey's kitty Gir packed all his belongings in a polka-dotted satchel, slung it over his little kitty back, and moved to his new home. Luckily his new home was not "the alley behind El Pollo Loco" or "a shelter where he would most certainly be killed," but rather the LeezyB & Susan B. Anthony Estate. The kitty seemed to attain some level of comfort quickly, and Pablo Honey kept his composure while seeing him off.

It was the first thing I thought of this morning when I woke up, and it made my heart as gray as the sky outside the windows.

I have only been close to one animal in my life, and I couldn't imagine having to give her away. I also can't imagine having that much integrity and strength to even consider it. Fact is, the kitty didn't have enough space, and his roomie pays good money to live with healthy respiratory function. So...the harder-than-difficult decision was made, and the kitty found a wonderful new home.

But it still makes me blue.

Also making me blue is my lack of dental health. I am moving into the next period of my life that involves dental irrigators, electric toothbrushes, and infinite amounts of baking soda mixed with salt and hydrogen peroxide. But the only problem is that while researching how to make the environment in my mouth pleasant, I am learning how many chemicals we put in our bodies at every turn. Hence, the OCD.

Toothpaste and shampoos have SLS in them. Anti-perspirant has Aluminum ingredients. My makeup has propylene-glycol, my lotion has lanolin in it, and parabens are in everything else. Apparently every day, I am helping my body soak in breast cancer, rashes, nitrates, and other irreversible damage.

I've been examining the products I use to get ready in the morning, and trying to figure out how to eliminate the chemical-laced ones. But this is a slippery slope. It might start at my moisturizer, but it will lead to my detergent, and my lip balm, then jump to my dishwashing fluid, then the fabric of my clothes, and end at...well, it won't ever end.

Is it possible to live a chemical-free existence? I don't think so, which is why I'm pondering moving to a Costa-Rican cave and becoming a nudist.

Speaking of nudity, Mardi Gras, for yet another year, pisses me off. I can never seem to figure out when the hell it actually begins or ends. It appears to this white girl from Colorado that Mardi Gras happens about three times a year before June, with people invoking its existence just so they can see some bare knockers and sling those tacky beads around.

I could have sworn someone had a Mardi Gras party back in January. Now, here everyone is, sending photos of themselves watching live sex shows with their grandparents and drinking purple rum drinks out of impossibly huge hurricane glasses.

Oh yeah, the hurricane. Won't New Orleans just calm down for a second? Shouldn't they be worrying about how to get their homes rebuilt and public facilities running before they concern themselves with how many shots they can take from between a hooker's sweaty breasts? Maybe I am misinformed. Perhaps things are way better than they were, and that the city is miraculously healing itself and overcoming adversity.

But it seems to me that this is the second time Fat Tuesday has happened this year, and amid all my wistfulness, it's irritating me. Re-open your colleges and save the parades for next year.

meow. g