The Truth About Cats and Dogs

My brother owns cats now.  Two.  Sisters.  Emily and Melly.  (I told him those were stupid names for cats and they would henceforth be known as Chairman Meow and Dr. Pepper.)  Mom is overjoyed to have them.  Dad?  Not so much.

I was looking forward to introducing them to this notorious catnip stuff that apparently turns kittens into berserkers.  I gave them some and the results were anticlimactic to say the least.
They rolled in it for a while.  Then they proceeded with life, albeit at a slightly increased pace.
Yi-freaking-haw.

It was completely by accident that I discovered the true magic substance.
Turkey.
Get a piece of turkey out and Melly (That’s Dr. Pepper to you) turns into an absolute crackhead.

So around Thanksgiving I got this grand idea: I’d play a little joke on my dad and teach Melly to climb legs after food.  If you've never had a cat, I'll tell you now.  That shit hurts in an OH GOD THOSE CLAWS ARE HEADED WHERE?! kind of way.
Now, I’m no newbie to training animals.  The only thing is, the trainees of my past were 3 dogs.
But I figured, hey, training is training, right?
NOT SO.
Damn cats.
With dogs, if you want them to, say, give you hi-five/paw, you perform the action, reward them when they succeed, repeat a few times, and they get it.  And then proceed to offer hi-fives to every single person who eats anything in their vicinity ever again.

I set out to do this with Melly and leg-climbing.  I thought ‘ha ha.  I’ll teach her on me and then, when I go home, the only person left in their household actually eating the turkey will be dad.  So the next time he pulls out the leftovers… BIG SURPRISE.’
After putting lots of holes in my good jeans (not to mention my LEGS), I abandoned ship; gleefully returning a week later to see the fruits of my labor, only to discover that my dad had developed a magical cat-repelling force field.  They do not mess with him.  They do not mess with anyone AROUND him.
I have been catapulted into the role of sole food provider.
The end result?
It is now unsafe for me in my parents’ kitchen.

Eating at their house has become like reenacting a scene from the move Predator.

Epic Fail

Well, that didn't work.  After much upheaval (moving/complete change of roommate) I had to re-do basically everything.  Here's to me maybe following through this time.

 

Kitana:  I'm still me.  Pheromone no longer attracts hobos and has instead shifted to creepy old men, though how much of that has to do with the decreased ratio of homeless to creepy old guys in this new locale has yet to be determined.  Juggles commission work and a third shift job with social life and, as a result, is generally sleep deprived at any given time.  Even when I'm not, my internal clock is so confused that my body decides it's tired anyway.  Like I've self-induced some kind of strange opportunistic narcolepsy, which ultimately culminates in me falling asleep in the middle of the day on my expensive Klimt rug surrounded by sketches and tax papers; then waking rugburned and illogically cranky when Jenny helpfully tries to tell me to go to bed because the last time I slept on the rug I bitched for a long time because it was uncomfortable and I drooled all over it.

Jenny:  Is still my best friend and somehow living with me has not made her reconsider that.  I think.  Discovered recently that she particularly enjoys parsley dipped in salt water.  This concerns me.  The rule of Are What You Eat dictates she could be a burgeoning holy relic of a sort.  I’m not sure my nocturnal, garlic-loathing, pseudo-vampiric self could survive that.  So I’ve been working on her desaturation in small ways.  She is mostly cooperative and disturbingly unfazed by the lead in, “Oh my god, this is nasty.  Here. Try this.”
I’m also relatively confident that if she perishes by unnatural causes, it will be by my hand or (more probably) in her car.  Because one day she will run out of gas without her wallet in a remote location I cannot reach and she will die of thirst because she’s full of salty parsley and salt dehydrates you.

Be Afraid

I've had so many people tell me I should serialize my occasional day-to-day comics that I've decided to give it a go. The title page seems like a good place to start. Hopefully my roommies won't kill me.

Introducing the Immediate Cast
ROOMMATES:
Kitana - Me, of course. Have some sort of magical pheromone that exclusively attracts hobos; they like me a lot. 100% American of mixed descent, the majority of which is Swedish, though Masumers tells me I was born in Japan and just don't know it. I get myself into a ridiculous amount of humiliating situations that I often can't help but find amusement in, despite my mortification. Which would be why you're here. Either that, or you were googling plantain diseases and this is a horrible mistake.
Masumers - Claims she's a transfer Japanese, but we know otherwise. She's secretly American and possibly also Scottish. The accent gives her away. Somewhat androgynous; is often mistaken for a boy/lesbian. Carries her camera almost everywhere, but mostly takes pictures of food. Can subsist on ramen and bread indefinitely. Sleeps face-down; I sometimes worry that one day she'll suffocate in her own pillow.
Andrea - Japanese Chinese Hawaiian. Likes swing dancing and is a guy magnet. Walking around with her guarantees at least one catcall from random passerby. Is afraid of bikes, but has no problem with leaping out of planes. Is disappointed that the Atlantic swells are pathetic for surfing. Joined Masumers' side of the ongoing apartment Samurai vs. Viking War by stealth; I am now a minority in my own country.

FRIENDS:
Jenny - My best friend and worst enemy. Is generally up for any sort of mischief I have in mind, despite having been burned for it on multiple occasions. Dearly loves the thing I hate most in the world, right before cockroaches, stepping on a wet spot in socks, and when the dictionary uses the term being defined as part of the definition: children. For some reason people tend to assume we are a couple. We are not, but get ourselves into a lot of trouble by messing with peoples' heads when they think we do not know they are looking.
Kimmi - A coworker of mine. Has figured out how to tweak my stupid and, as a result, can get me to agree to almost anything. Lands me in more compromising situations than all of my other friends combined. A take-charge kind of person and slightly bossy, but gold at heart. Has been a member of the Rocky Horror Picture Show cast for three years running. Also, she is gay.
Nicken - Engaged and will return to Indonesia to be married as soon as her school is done here. Scares easily but loves Asian horror films. Punches people in the head to say hello and spends hours on Pet Society doing everything but actually interacting with her pet. Once spent half the night on the beach with me, spelling out expletives in the air by glo-stick and long exposure camera. Managed to write FUCKU with remarkable precision.