QUIZ: Are you a Real Cat Lady?

The most genius shirt ever made.

Cat apparel is seeing a striking rise in popularity in recent days. There are shirts, leggings, sweaters, hats, socks, shoes, belts, etc. all adorned with our furry feline friends. Castronauts (Cat astronauts,) Taco Cats, cats on fire, cats with hipster glasses, cats ascending to heaven in flowery cloud beds… Cats are everywhere! Perhaps this trend began with the popularity of Tard, the notoriously Grumpy Cat or the long anticipated release of the feature film, ‘Lil’ Bub and Friendz’ based on the adventures of a cat plagued by a facial deformity and his ragtag group of palz. All this prompted me to ask myself, “Well, shit, is being a cat lady actually…. COOL?”

Tard being Tard. Haha, "nuts."

The answer is no, BUT with cat apparel appearing in the Targets, K-marts, and Walmarts of the world, it opens up the opportunity to sport the kitty apparel to the masses, thus our problem. There is a rise in number of “Cat Lady Imposters.”  The problem with CLIs is that they don’t actually own a cat or give any thought or devotion to the feline cause. They don’t know the panic of repeatedly calling for your cat’s name and when they don’t come, not even when you shake their treat bag, you’re sure they’ve run away or are hurt, so you furiously search the house only to find them hiding in the bathroom cabinet, just waiting, like a sick game of hide-and-go-seek you didn’t know you were playing. They don’t know the torture of finally sitting down after a long day with your Big Salad and glass of wine and, your cat, after ignoring you all day, decides THIS is the exact moment they simply must be in your lap and be thoroughly stroked. CLIs don’t know the disappointment of buying the perfect, state-of-the-art cat toy (stick with a dangling feather attached) only to wake and find the toy untouched but every piece of used dental floss has been removed from your trashcan and

"Don't act like you're not impressed."

redistributed throughout your home. They don’t still have a scar on their left boob from the first time they tried to pick up and cuddle their new cat. They don’t know the JOY of finding legless crickets near where you keep your shoes. “It’s a gift, Mom,” the kitties will say. Meanwhile, your closet is a murderous collection of said, “gifts.”  CLIs don't know what its like to bring home, what you thought was a new cat, but it isn't, and it can only be best described as a creature sent to destroy your toes, a Toe Goblin. CLIs are wearing the cat shirt to be “ironically cool” but haven’t actually earned the privilege. Cat Ladies have so little, people. You gotta give us this one thing.

So, if you’re wondering if you might be a CLI, I’ve created this list of questions, a Cosmo style quiz, if you will, to help you decide if you’re worthy to don the Castronaut shirt.

"I hope they don't find out you're a CLI, man. For your sake." 

ARE YOU A REAL CAT LADY or JUST A CAT LADY IMPOSTER?

Question 1: Are you a woman?

If you answered “Yes” to this question, then congratulations! You’re halfway to being a REAL CAT LADY. Proceed to question 2.

If you answered “No” to this question, then it gets more complicated. It gets complicated because you don’t have to be a woman to be deemed worthy to wear cat apparel. So men, you must answer these sub-questions to move on to question 2 and potentially find out if you too, are qualified to wear cat apparel.

A.      Do you go to the gym a lot?

B.      Do you own a Dog? (Yikes.)

If you answered “Yes” to either of these questions, unfortunately you are, by the law of averages, probably not worthy of the Taco Cat t-shirt. I’m sorry. You’ll never be hilarious at parties.

If you answered “No”, to both of those questions, then Congratulations! You’re halfway to being a REAL CAT LADY. Proceed to question 2.

Question 2: How many cats do you own?

               

If your answer was anything from 1-4, the CONGRATULATIONS! Head to Target immediately and get that t-shirt featuring a Cat DJ workin’ the turntables. You’ve earned it, baby! Hell, treat yourself to the kitten ballet flats too!

If your answer was 0 cats, then you are a CLI, the worst kind of people and everything that is wrong with America. I have two suggestions: One, go to a shelter immediately and change your life. Cats are awesome, low maintenance, and will teach you everything you need to know about life. No cat for you? Fine. Two, wade in that void for the rest of your fucking life for all I care.

If your answer was 5 or more….. (I’m about to get real here) then we have a problem. Unless you live on some kind of magical farm, you fall into a category of crazy (and are probably really, very lonely) that is really hard to come back from. Toxoplasma Gondii, the parasite found in cat feces that causes Crazy Cat Lady Syndrome, has likely taken over your brain already. 5 cats, is too much. I personally understand the deep, aching urge to save each orphaned feline you come in contact with but, you must think of the effect this has on your human relationships. Have you had a sexual partner in the last year? Probably not. Go, immediately clean out your litter box and decide your least favorite cat and find it a home.

She and I could be friends. 

Somewhere he/she can be special. Yeah? Ok. You can definitely still wear the cat apparel, but it’s a little less cute and a lot more sad.

Gaaaaaaawwwwwww!!! 

Alright everyone, I’m not saying that just because you don’t own a cat, you don’t like cats. You could be 7 and living under the tyranny of your dog-loving parents. But until that time you’ve realized that the holidays are coming and that means you have to get your new cat a stocking for Christmas, you’ll never feel quite right in cat leggings. You see?  

PS. Owning a cat and a dog is OK. That makes you some kind of saint. Like bringing the Sharks and the Jets together. Good work. 

This exists. CCL super hero movie? I think so. 

I am from ARIZONA!

"Its a small world of stereo-types."

The other day I was driving through downtown Los Angeles… Well, I guess more specifically it was somewhere in the middle of MacArthur Park, Westlake, and Westlake South….. I think. I’ll just give you the cross streets. I was driving through the intersection of Alvarado and 7^th. There were so many people outside on this day, they were practically flooding into the streets. There was no particular event happening. It was just people moving through their day to day, shopping, reading in the park, working, asking for change, playing basketball, etc. It was a sea of diversity; a microcosm of Los Angeles. There were so many different colors, shapes, sizes, and walks of life, it was like the “It’s a small world” ride at Disneyland if the dolls were people, they aged, and had to fend for themselves. This diversity might be my favorite thing about LA. When I first moved here, it was so fun to ask people where they were from. It was always a fascinating answer because the answer was almost never the same. “I was born in Peru, but grew up in Germany and then Seattle.” “I’m a cowboy from Alberta.” “I was born in Iran and came here to escape political persecution.” “I moved here from South Africa last year.” “I’m from the panhandle.” (I had NO idea that’s what they called the part of Florida that, you guessed it or knew it already, looks like a panhandle.) It was all fascinating. All of it. Even if you were from the mid-west.

What was not so fun was when people would ask me the same

Eh. Its OK, I guess. 

question. I would say, “Eh, Arizona. It’s hot. No big. Tell me more about Australia!” In my defense, I’m 3^rd generation Arizonian, had lived there for 26 years of my life, and was possibly suffering from a long-term bout of heat stroke that started in the womb. Seriously, I’m probably slightly over-cooked. (Its over 100 degrees there for like, 7 months out of the year for goodness sake!) I was so happy to be in California and OUT of Arizona; it just didn’t seem worth talking about. It’s just one state over. Why would anyone be interested in what happens there? I humbly and (to my fellow Phoenicians, apologetically) admit there were SEVERAL times I rolled my eyes and in an Eeyore-esque voice said, “I’m from Phoenix, I guess.” “I went to Arizona State University. Yes, I went to parties. Yes, there are actual classes there.” One time, I was with a group of actors that I admired. We were discussing a character in a scene and someone said, “He was a smart guy. He went to Northwestern. It’s not like he went to Arizona State! HAHAHAHAHA!” (The guy who said this was wearing one of 9 Yale shirts he owned and in retrospect, was a douche. But it still stung.) I remember laughing along with everyone else and while a small tear ran down my cheek, I joked, “yeah, in Arizona, your degree from ASU doubles as a handicap placard. HAHAHAHA!!” I felt just sick about it. I would fantasize about being from somewhere else like Spain or New Zealand or Portland or even Canada! Maybe I could be Armenian because I am seriously great at pronouncing the last names. Or a Jewish girl! I don’t want to convert, I want to have

Come on, ASU. Come ON!

been born Jewish and from Brooklyn because I could do an amazing impression of my Mutha! Alas, that was not to be. I was forever a sad Phoenician. Then, something started to happen.

After a few years here, in cooler weather, and many trips back to all parts of Arizona, this change began. People started coming to me with questions like, “I’m going on a trip to Phoenix. What should I do there?” and “Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon?!” I found myself saying things like, “You have to go ghost hunting in Jerome!”  “Did you know Maynard from Tool has a vineyard in AZ?” “You gotta float down the Salt River!” “You haven’t LIVED until you’ve driven out to the desert and set something on fire!”  “There’s no good Mexican food in Los Angeles! You think this is a taco, bitch?!?” “Havasupai! Cowboys!  Whisky row! Monsoons! FOUR PEAKS BREWERY!” And, "Fuck yes, I have been to the Grand Canyon!" I am the resident expert on Arizona and a self-proclaimed desert rat.  I have become an almost disgustingly proud Arizona-born LA girl. I damn near bought an

An AZ sunset is the best kind of sunset.

ASU quilt the other day. A QUILT. I’m still working through my jealously over the fact AZ finally named the wall of dust that happens right before a monsoon, WITHOUT ME! It’s a haboob! I want to be able say, “haboob” all the time too! Also, central air conditioning is in every single building in Phoenix! (Can you please take note, LA?!? It’s 100 degrees today and I’ve got an ice cube and a fan.) You can ski and swim in the same day in friggin’ Arizona. Good ol’ AZ.  I am sorry I doubted thee.

I had a great epiphany driving through MacArthur West Park Lake South. I realized that I too am an important part of the diversity. All that I have to offer is part of what makes LA and, if I may, the world a better place. I am thankful for all the resident experts here! Tell me what the frig there is to do in Wichita, KS! It’ll probably sound great and I’ll totally believe you. You wanna know anything about AZ? Pull up a chair, partner! I’ll friggin’ tell you. “First, you drive out to the desert. Then, you tie a mattress to the back of your truck…….”

Wait... What? OH, COME ON, ASU! COME ON!!!

GO SUN DEVILS!