A. Russo – More than the sum of my parts.


Evil Kitten

Arin – 1, Evil Kitten – ~1 million…

So I’ve mentioned Evil Kitten before. I live with Evil Kitten. Or, more accurately, Evil Kitten allows me to exist in her space as long as I continue to provide food, water, and kitten-box-cleaning services.

How did I come to have this arrangement with Evil Kitten? I found her dying under a car, covered in fleas and mites and totally malnourished. Upon verifying with a local that she was, indeed, homeless and no one would miss her, I scooped her up, dragged her tiny less-than-one-pound body to the vet, and spent the next 48 hours force-feeding her, giving her vitamins, crushing fleas, and heating and reheating a sock full of rice to keep her warm.

In thanks, Evil Kitten has become my supreme ruler.

Really. You’d think she’d be grateful, but no. Evil Kitten hates such things as snuggles, petting, cuddling, and affection in general. She prefers to feed on human flesh, usually mine, and is not opposed to sneak-attacking me at any hour of the day.

Occasionally she sleeps on top of me and wakes me up purring at 2:30 in the morning but I pretend not to notice so she can keep up appearances.

As part of my duties to my supreme ruler, I play with her every evening with a teaser toy which she joyfully chases around. So last night, while watching my recorded episode of Dancing With the Stars (Yes, I watch DWtS okay??? Don’t judge me!!) I set the remote control down next to me on the carpet so I could simultaneously play with Evil Kitten (I promise, she has an actual name but I don’t say it out of fear that repeating it three times might summon her) and fast-forward through the blah blah blah talky parts.

Evil Kitten bounced around for a bit and then spotted the remote on the carpet. The result was like watching a puffer fish puff up – instant puff. Hiss. Bounce.


I lifted the remote. Bigger puff. Louder hiss. Huge threatening bounce.

Muahahaha. Evil Kitten has kryptonite.

I pointed the remote at her, and with a hiss that would rival Simba the Lion King (no, not the grown up one, but the pitiful kitten one), Evil Kitten was off like a shot, up the stairs and back through whatever portal of Hell she dwells in when I can’t find her.

I have no idea how or why this came about. To my knowledge Evil Kitten has never had a bad episode with any kind of remote control. Perhaps she can sense its electric vibes or something.

I must use this power wisely, but I have found a defense against pointy teeth at last!! BWAHAHAHA…


It Might Actually Be Tuesday’s Fault…

Well Monday gets a reprieve. Since I had Monday off, I was feeling pretty congenial toward it. Now I’m pissed at Tuesday. Why, Tuesday? WHY??

It started off okay. It actually started off with Evil Kitten being a lot less evil than usual. In fact, she was doing this weird vibrating thing which scared me at first. I thought she was about to explode. Then I used the Google and discovered she was purring. I didn’t know Evil Kitten had this feature. It must have come standard, because I sure didn’t opt in for any upgrades.

For a few moments it was actually safe to pet her. Then she realized what she was doing, and bit me. So, back to normal.

I got up, tried to shower, ran out of hot water, ran out of shampoo. Managed with hand soap (ugh. I need my product).

I almost didn’t burn myself making breakfast but I saved myself at the last minute and managed to get a nice burn on my hand from the toaster oven. Whew. For a second there I thought something might actually go right.

Now I have to get into my car, which given my current track record will probably explode, but that’s okay because it would save me from having to spend all day beating my head against my desk at the Most Boring Job Ever.

Screw you, Tuesday.


Evil Kitten is Evil…

So I’m at my desk. Writing. The usual.

Evil Kitten is nowhere to be seen.

This alone should have set off warning bells. Somehow, my internal Kitten Warning System got FUBARed though, and nothing seems amiss. I just continue typing away, oblivious to the fact that six pounds of DOOM is lurking around the corner.

Just as I breathe a sigh of relief and give myself a metaphorical pat on the back for finishing a chapter there’s a white blur in the doorway. It zooms up to my chair, leaps, tackles my arm, and bites me three or four times before digging its claws in in a macabre parody of a swimmer’s turn and zipping back out the door.

I call her Evil Kitten for a reason.

Hump Day Wake-up

Nothing says ‘good morning, Wednesday’ like opening your eyes at 2:45 am, wondering what roused you, feeling something odd about the tip of your nose. You yawn, give yourself a mental shrug – eh, whatever – and close your eyes again.

And then Evil Kitten bites your nose. Again.

It’s no use swatting her away; kitten owners will agree! Move your hand? You’ve just made yourself an instant attack target!

No, the only solution is to lie as still as possible, hoping she will realize that you’re not taking the bait – and your nose isn’t particularly tasty OR playful.

You will apply this philosophy to the remainder of your day. It is Hump Day. Eventually, if you wait it out, it’ll go away.

*sighs and rubs nose* It just might take a few more bites.


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