The Cat and the Snail

It was looking like a normal day at the the law offices of Daby and Jaby:

Catman: hewwo - you have reached the law offices of daby and jaby, we can't come to to the phone right now, and we are not real lawyers

The Catman was going over his usual laundry list of mundane activities:

Catman: put my fleece in the wash

Catman: couldn't get that buffalo sauce spot out

(Note: these two are actual separate story lines. The first involves the Catman trying to get rid of a strange smell from his fleece. The second, quite obviously, involves him spilling buffalo sauce on his shirt and his failed attempt to get it out.)

But things changed when the Foreign Correspondent learned of a more pressing and disgusting concern in the Catman's life: 

Catman:   worried my stuffing is coming out

Foreign Correspondent:  i don't know what that means

Catman: was pooping blood yesterday

disconcerting, for sure

Sadly, the Foreign Correspondent did not care to investigate the story:

Foreign Correspondent:  oversharing

Catman: :  should always be an open channel of communication

Foreign Correspondent:   --

However, he did care to provide a quick zinger:

Catman:  i'm writing my will, so let me know if there is anything you would like out of my toy chest...

Foreign Correspondent:   note: you're not dying

regards, the peanut gallery

But, the Catman also began to repeat his concerns to me:

Catman: what if i'm coming apart at the seams?
and my stuffing comes out
J: hahah I'm sure it is nothing
but it gives you something to worry about, which you like.
Catman: we'll see what comes out today
J: stop.
Catman: would like you down there when it's time for the snail to pass (Note 1: The Catman also inserted the image of a snail. Note 2: To my knowledge, the word "snail" has never been used in this context)
J: come on man

Luckily, the story has a happy ending:

Catman: all clear

A Nice Bit of Chat between the Catman and the Foreign Correspondent

Catman:  i'm here to PUMP YOU UP
Foreign Correspondent:  --
Catman:  i'd like to see you put on 20 pounds of muscle in the next month - is that fair?
Foreign Correspondent:  why on earth would i want to do that?
Catman:  you're going to need it
Foreign Correspondent:  what on earth for?
Catman:  i've arranged for you to have some sparring sessions above your current weight class
Foreign Correspondent:  you're an idiot

--

Catman:  heard about your voodoo doll this weekend
Foreign Correspondent:  what's that?
Catman:  heard you made a little doll of proscuitto and cheese
Foreign Correspondent:  closing the box again. goodbye.
Catman:  that's what j said

Farewell, Iceland

Well, your beloved 1/2 cat 1/2 guy is signing off from Iceland. It's been a pretty wild week: lava caves, snorkeling in the rift between Europe and America, eating awkwardly alone, drinking awkwardly alone, and pretty much just doing everything awkwardly. I started tonight off on a brewery tour. I met some Americans, so I went out to dinner with them, because solidarity is better than not. Things are looking up: a LOT of girls in this place (cafe oliver), and I'm already buzzed from the brewery. I talk to a couple of the girls at a table next to us, who are seemingly in a bachelorette party. Nope. Some sort of princess/super hero/terrorist/80s theme night out. Anyway, this one girl seems to be digging the cat. Turns out her name is (of course) Bjork. Well, Bjork and I talk for a good while, and the cat is feeling alright about this. Well, her friends take a picture of her and the cat, and she remarks, "don't put that on facebook!" Why you ask? Oh, because she has a boyfriend, and yes, two children. Alright. Moving on.

A couple of the girls we were with leave, and it ends up being me and this dude Naveen. We end up at this one bar, but he leaves to check on his wife. So, again, just the cat. Needless to say, all girls in a different country hate cats, and all girls in the country you're from hate cats. Go figure. All in all, kick ass time in Iceland. Flight tomorrow, so the cat is signing off.

- CM

MORNING ADDENDUM:

Rough morn. As Vic would say, "ah naaaaahhhhhh" (except he does this for the first 3 minutes of any phone call you have with him). All packed, ready to make the trip. First stop: tavern. Not even gonna drop my bags off.