Last week I went to one of those pet shoppes (the "ppes" part is intentional) in the fancy part of Brooklyn, that is, of course, Park Slope. Since it's the lesbians who started Park Slope gentrification back in the day when it was referred to nearly universally as “Dyke Slope,” there are many high-end pet stores. They especially cater to, you got it, cats.

I asked the nice lady at the counter for a nutritious cat snack that I could give to my cats when they are begging for people food, and the nice woman at the counter suggested these some freeze dried fish flakes. Wouldn't have been my first choice, but then, I'm not a cat.

On the same trip, I also bought two bottles of ice cold Diet Mountain Dew; the biggole 20 ounce bottles, naturally. When I got home, the my alarm clock was going off in the living room, so I left the two bags (one with the bottles of Dew, the other with the fish flakes) sitting on my bed.

When I returned to my bedroom, my cats had torn open the bag with the cold bottles, and rolled them around the bed, leaving a layer of condensation across a 3 foot area. Then they proceeded to open up the bag with the fish flakes, and fight each for the flakes, over (of course) the same area where the condensation was.

It was if they had breaded my comforter with fish flakes with condensation from the Diet Mountain Dew bottle as the egg-y adhering substance. A mess that took them less than 45 seconds to make, took me more than 45 minutes to clean up.

I try so hard not to be the crazy cat lady but is it really any wonder that I'm single?