For the longest time it didn’t seem at all strange to me that I had once spend countless afternoons sitting in a smoke filled room watching old western films with a woman who picked fleas of her cats and killed them (the fleas not the cats) with her two inch long, yellowed fingernails. But that was before I had spent anytime with people who don’t do things like that.
Here, in no particular order are 6 things I think are the Cat’s Pajamas
- Not being talked to in a department store
- Buying everything online
- Not being talked to on the bus
- Giant cats
- Kitten Mittens
- People who rock costumes in public for no immediately apparent reason
If you’re wondering where this particular idiom came from check out this blog it seems legit. I have almost no interest in the origins of the idiom but since this site is called ‘Blithering Idioms’ I thought it best to feature an actual idiom every now and again.
For a period of about eight years all of the pets my family had were disgusting in some way. My cat had some mysterious bugs in his fur that turned it from black to almost grey. My mom had a cocker spaniel, Toby. Toby ate everything my mom ate and even though we could only afford for everyone to pick one item from the dollar menu at McDonalds during family outings, Toby got his own hamburger. On one particular family trip to some boring place no kid could ever care about, the spaniel farted on my mom’s lap, and left a brown streak. She was outraged as she seemed to be operating under the assumption that Toby had done this on purpose despite everything she had done for him. I on the other hand, could not have been happier.
In the fourth grade my teacher, Mrs. Crispin suggested I be considered for the Academically Gifted Program. The only person I knew to be in the program was a boy named Aaron. Aaron’s head was so big everyone in our class was certain his brain was oversized and despite the fact that he used to fart on the round plastic chairs in the lunch room and then bend down to smell what he had done, he did seem very smart.
When I was eight we moved into a tiny trailer in a tiny place in the middle of nowhere. One of the interesting things about living in the middle of nowhere is there are no public utilities. No one comes to pick up the garbage and recycling on Tuesday morning, everyone has a vibrant green grassy spot in their yard that marks the huge tank where their shit is stored because there is no city sewer, and drinking water comes out of the ground one way or another.