Random Facts About Me And Tree

I figure after nearly a year of blogging, you all know quite a bit of shit about me. For instance:

*I'm lazy as fuck.
*I complain a lot.
*I really like Cheetos.
*And pancakes.
*I'm obsessed with my cat.

And you know a lot about that cat too, don't you?

*He's gay.
*And needy.
*And bitey.
*And loves to snuggle.
*And also loves Cheetos.

But, there are always more facts to be shared, closer bonds to build. If we're all gonna be BIFFs (Best Internet Friends FOREVER), there should be no secrets between us. And so I present, some more fascinating facts about me and the Tree.

I believe his face is saying: put me DOWN!

*I suffer from trypophobia, as does my sister, ever since we were kids. For years we just called it "the dotty thing" until I finally looked it up in college and found out it is a real thing and we are not crazy. (Well, we are, but not for this reason.) Basically trypophobia is "fear of holes", but that's not really it. I'm not afraid of holes. But when I see clusters of holes or dots, in just the right size and pattern, it gives me a horrible, visceral reaction. I feel physically ill, itchy, nauseous, disturbed, shivery, anxious. DO NOT LIKE. Not all the examples given in the link above bother me, I'm fine with bubbles and coral and condensation and poppyseeds. The dots can't be too big or too small, too close together or not enough, they just have to be perfectly positioned to FREAK ME THE FUCK OUT. A lot of times, it's something INSIDE the dots that gets to me. I do not like lotus pods. I do not like looking at cells. I do not like the backs of the leaves that were outside our condo in Hawaii when we were kids that LITERALLY MADE ME SCREAM. When I saw "lotus boob" (Google at your own risk, I'm not linking to that shit), I felt ill for DAYS. I also do not like the design around "showstopper" on the guy's lower back in this video. I fucking love that song, I love that video, but those motherfucking dots are stuck in my head and now when I listen to the song I get the dotty-feeling and it is HORRIBLE. HORRIBLE.

*When Bentley is mad at me, he makes it very well known. In the past he has pooped in front of my face while I slept to communicate his displeasure at being abandoned for a night, and he has gone to his litter box and peed out the door, on my floor when I have stopped petting him. His most hilarious method of communication, however, has gone by the wayside, 'cause he can't get up on the counters in my apartment. But for years, when he was mad at me for whatever reason, he would turn on the water faucets. Yes, they'd be on when the family came home from a day out, or he'd turn them on at 4AM to force me out of bed. Have you ever seen a cat turn on a water faucet? It's impressive.

*I won a writing contest when I was thirteen. $100 and my picture in the paper. Yeah, you feel grateful that you get to read my blog now, don't you? DON'T YOU?

*Bentley was the only non-gray kitty in his litter. They were all jealous of his luxurious coat and raccoon tail.

*I still fit into shoes I had in fifth grade.

*Mr. Tree has always wanted to be an outdoor kitty, but whenever he escapes into the great unknown, he is terrified and can't wait to get back inside. He makes noises like he's possessed by the Devil and speaks in tongues. It's disturbingly hilarious.

*When I was fourteen months old I was running around the house with a mug of cheese and crackers. I tripped, dropped and broke the mug, and slammed my left arm down onto the broken ceramic. I severed the main artery in my wrist and nearly cut my tendon. I have a nifty scar that, to me, is just a normal part of my body that I barely notice 'cause I've had it ever since I can remember. But sometimes people see it and get really quite and go, "Did you...try to kill yourself?" That's a bit personal, don't you think? No, I was not a suicidal toddler.

*Bentley does not like toys. He's not a dog. The only things he has ever played with are things like the wrapper off a Snapple or hair ties. He has no interest in anything that you paid money for him to play with. That's childish.

*Both the kitty and I love nothing more than snuggling in bed. Wait...you already knew that.