Schrodinger's Cat: Rationalizations of an Existentialist (Part 5: Cat Tats and Tatters)

I was a little stressed out about starting this blog. Not over the content, but whether or not I could deal with an over reaction to the post after I put that Facebook post and Tweet out there. This is how I make sure I keep up my writing, but also how I kill time at work. Post it too early in the evening, I may have to deal with the panic and my inevitable mental breakdown for a few hours on the clock.

Rationalization 13: Timing makes a cool tattoo

Backlash shouldn't be an issue since I started writing this after my first shuttle run, so I'll have traffic to slowdown my progress. Still, remember I am driving people around till 12:00 am CST February 8, 2014. Please hold back your phone calls and text until all of the hotel's guests are tucked in their beds or pondering whether or not they needed that late night stop to Al's. Don't worry gents, it shows up as B.A. Restaurant, Inc. on the credit card statement.

It may just be LLC...if I go into why I think that, I may not be allowed back in.

Holding off on starting to write this blog worked out pretty well. I was able to amuse myself with trying to figure out how to build upon my Catbus tattoo. Because of all of the headaches of the early week, I determine that's a priority instead of getting my "Tank Girl" V-sign (that reads dirty for some reason, thus the concept art).

Since I refused, at that moment, to think about Claire Danes-esque existence (the title of that show I never watched back in the 90's not her actual existence that DiCaprio has forever trivialized), I seemed to like the challenge of coming up with Miyazaki elements to add above my fifth tattooed furball (I will get to Evangeline soon enough). Like always, my hard hardheadedness was not rewarded.

Everyone has kodomas or San's mask (damn that's too much Claire, and we've yet to imply my best friend), I don't want to use Baron T-shirt art from tees I've purchased, and that Fall Out Boy twat has a "Howl's Moving Castle" tattoo. Is pop punk out to make every Faux Mohican (Guttermouth song, expand your horizons) look bad? It's our tackiness, don't use it to sell records. Don't let it get associated with insecure sisters of inexplicable pop success who ruin their most attractive feature.

As long as it isn't "Porco Roso" wide or Sarah Jessica Parker long (then again that maybe her cheese wedge of a head), a big nose can be sexy. Now I have a Al Snow/Wrestlemania 20 joke I could make, but back to the ink.

I did find some stuff to add to the sides of my Catbus from "The Cat Returns" and some tanooki suit ideas. Would it be okay to incorporate the cats from "Sailor Moon" instead? Regardless of the anime ideas, I don't know if I want to dedicate that much time to a tattoo I can't see or won't be able to show off. Maybe my grand Grumpy Bear tattoo needs to be my next one to get rid of that limitation, but that maybe a bloody Pillsbury incident waiting to happen. My imaginary deity, what will people imagine from that statement?

People say, "timing is everything," and you can say I presented evidence suggesting that. Everything about my tattoo struggle and blog timing, I could control. Except for Pete Wentz shitting on the most underrated Ghibli film of the last 17 years.

I suppose it depends when he got the work done. If it was in the last nine years, I slipped up on calling that FIRSTIES!!! If it was before that, my ink was for my Star Wars wrestling gimmick (I now call Darth Claudius) or Stacia Hardin inspired. Otherwise, the colored flesh was suppose to begin and end with my 87-89 Cubbie Bear. Maybe I should get that touched up first.

I never thought I'd say this, but Cats before Cubs. Even if I can decide on what Northside fandom to build around or pick-up a wrestling booking to prevent this faded icon from being forever covered, I got to get back my independent spirit. I'm not about money, so I can't be reminded of something I'm not...A SELL OUT.

Realization 14: Friends determine value.

I maybe a clinically depressed lichen, too apathetic to maim, or to proud a cat lover to turn into a mutt. Every month starts, and I'm in the absolute shits. At least 2014 has been that way. 2013 at least had true friends. This may have been why nothing got done in terms of "Main Event of the Dead" until I wrote a treatment that I sent to a podcaster asking for advise or support to the project.

With what I've wrote, it would be hypocritical to come up with an Eminem's "Stan" tribute," but my sick sense of humor doesn't stop me from imagining it. Sadly, it wouldn't be appreciative since there are so many people who are prejudice of felines. No one would appreciate me driving off the Bob Michel Bridge with a spayed cat in the trunk.

It would actually end up being an unsolvable homicide instead of a suicide that would give a rapper press. Eva the cat letting me pull the murder/suicide off (cats are people too, so there's the murder half...which makes me further support the fictitious concept of Obama death panels). If you met the cat, that isn't going to work.

1. In all likelihood, she'd catch me off guard with her cuteness (I have a sick Chris Benoit joke I could tell, but this site is suppose to be about selling my film project).
2. She'd figure a way to put me into the trunk (cats live to trip people), and close it (and pounce on things).
3. She'd go all Toonces (the greatest one joke Saturday Night Live sketch ever), and drive me off a ravine.

This scenario leaves me with a better understanding of Hara-kiri. My cat is acting as the second who decapitates their friend who is disemboweling themselves. That maybe the measure of a true friend. Not the person who will bail you out when your in trouble or the person you're sharing a cell with, but the person who will make absolutely sure your secrets of the evening never get out.

That's a little grim to end this on. A true friend will help you accomplish something. I wasn't thinking about the script last year because I thought of stuff I could accomplish with friends. My best friend and I caught three great shows that we would forever regret not seeing. There were girls who left me thinking that maybe we could achieve something as a couple.

The latter two left me blind. My best friend left me high and dry because she thought, "if she was a consolation prize to me, he deserves no prizes." She wanted my friendship to be enough to keep caring on and quit worrying about how I have no value to anyone else. When I said that I needed to be valued by others, she wrote me off.

Or it was because I think her boyfriend is a bad person and I feel wronged that the bad get rewarded. He maybe a better person now, but he doesn't have to be.

So I have no one to go to the Pixies with and no one to put me out of my misery. The only value you can say I have is to my employers, my fellow employees and my family. Until I piss them off.

Rationalization 15: Now I wanna be...the Cat (I couldn't bring myself to say "Your Dog")

Instead on focusing on the title of this blog was going to be, I noted what rationalizations I wanted to write to get to the conclusion. I only scratched the surface of one of them and I'm running out of page downs.

I don't blame anyone for wishing a work week coma on me. That way, it will all end with Part 6. But do you really want it to end on a Cosby moment? If you went to a Big Ten or Ivy League school, I suggest you work on that suspended animation theory. Need a Guinea pig...or a cat for your box...I'm game, as long as I get $400 to make up for loss wages.