If you’re under 25, you’re officially a whippersnapper to me.
October 12th, 2007 by Dusty
A lot has happened in the past few weeks. I’m 35 years old now (only 35 more to go!), I’m giving my cat away free to a bad home or the lowest bidder, and I’m a commercially rated pilot.
First, there’s the birthday. I got to hang out with my very best friends and my girlfriend last night, and that’s all I’m asking for my birthday from here out, because there is nothing better.
When Skirt turned 29 in September we had a conversation about what we would do if we could have any job we wanted when we grow up. I said I’d be a dinosaur and she told me that that isn’t technically a job. After I stopped crying I changed it to pilot (but secretly I was thinking dinosaur pilot). The Skirt, who is presently gainfully employed as an engineer and has a sweet job, said she’s always wanted to be a bartender. I said she could start by getting me a beer, and smacked her on the ass.
After the swelling went down and I regained sight in my left eye, we kept talking about it and I thought about it a little more–
There are a million things you can get someone as a gift, but most of them are disposable. The television, the watch, the Orvis 150th anniversary 5 weight bamboo fly rod and Vom Hofe reel (Orvis #SI84T6-57 if you guys want to pool your money), whatever the thing is that you buy and wrap up, although awesome and useful, is tangible and therefore breakable, misplaceable, and stealable. Of all of the gifts I have ever been given, by far the most valuable and everlasting has been education in any of its megaspectacular forms – preschool, high school, college, break dancing lessons, flight training, it’s all stuff that cannot be taken away.
But just so you can get a better idea, here are a couple of pics my dad took when we went fishing. Imagine how much better I’d look with a bamboo rod.
I decided that instead of buying The Skirt that massive diamond ring that I’m sure she doesn’t really want, I’d get her a 2 week bartending certification course for her birthday. They even said they guaranteed to find her a job, which was a nice thought, but I looked around nervously and very quietly explained that her job was bringing me beer.
She was a little stressed about my birthday and kept telling me that she didn’t know what to give me. I kept trying to explain that I really honestly seriously have way too much crap already and the only stuff I really want is extinct due to a meteor, illegal according to age of consent laws, or prohibitively expensive and really not necessary in any way. Just keep on being the only sane woman on the face of the earth and I’ll keep being the luckiest dude ever.
Last night I saw a picture of what she got us, and it was really a way better gift than she probably thought. See, we both love to have friends over and entertain. We also have an area in the livingroom with a solid wall of windows that we call the lounge. It has this awesome view of the city and is my favorite place in the house. Our stupid cat likes it too.
Well, to help ensure that she can put those bartending skills to good use and that we can continue to keep our friends drunk enough to remain our friends, she got us a bar. Very cool.
THE CAT
Next there is the issue of Queasy no longer wanting to live with me. This is evidenced by the puddles and piles of tootsie-rolls she leaves RIGHT NEXT to the superdeluxe automagic litter box I bought her AND the backup litter box I keep around because she is an idiot.
Every time I tell people that my cat is having the ‘not knowing where cats shit’ problem, they explain that she might not be happy or that she feels threatened by whatever and her chi is messed up and she needs a massage. Horsefeathers, I say – I am one of only a handful of people in this fine nation who understands that pets are animals. Not children, not companions, not anything but animals who share a house with you. They can’t reason, they don’t have complex emotions, and they don’t speak English. People who treat animals like people are what I commonly refer to as morons. My cat gets the nice padded shelf on the window sill with the million dollar view and all she has to do to keep this lifestyle is not pee on the goddamn rug.
I’m not taking her to a therapist or having her exorcised. The vet checked her out and said she is free of bladder and kidney problems, so that means one thing – Queasy just got voted off the island. I’ve had her for eight years. I have done my part and I am finished playing “find the smell” when I get home from work every day. If anyone within the sound of my typing wants her, I will mail her to you. For an extra $10, I’ll poke holes in the box. But I’m doing it while she’s in the box and I’ll be using a .44. If I wanted to clean shit up and be pissed off all the time, I’d have kids. So let me know If you want her. She’ll be on craigslist.
FLYING
For the last few weeks I have been flying like it is going out of style and studying so I can (finally) get my commercial ticket. My flight school used to have a 1974 Piper Seneca that I flew all over the place. Part of training is to always be prepared to react to an emergency, and emergencies were never closer at hand than when you were flying that hunk of shit. Somehow I was never the one to have the nose gear collapse or an engine quit, but all I ever did in that airplane is look for something to be on fire, dangling off the wing, or missing entirely.
Finally they retired old 5296T and started getting real airplanes. Now they have an entire fleet of composite bodied, glass cockpitted, shiny new Diamond aircraft. I started flying again and remembered within the first five minutes why I love it. If you are the kind of person who is not physically capable of thinking of only one thing at a time, flying is your answer. Maybe it’s not like this for everyone, but when I fly, all I think about is flying. All of my problems and bullcrap are back at the airport, and all I have to do is keep the greasy side down and the pointy end forward. It’s good for the brain.
Last Sunday I went down to the airport and met my Examiner so he could decide if I knew enough to be called a commercial pilot. I had been studying every spare second I had, and still felt like I knew nothing. They say it’s normal to feel that way, but it’s not normal for me to feel that way because I am an arrogant dickhead know-it-all. I had been nervous as hell for several days and wanted nothing more than to get this done. We sat down and he started asking me questions about regulations and rules and what makes planes fly and what happens if you fly here (points to a spot on the chart) and you need to call this control center for whatever information…
I answered most of them pretty promptly and correctly. Here’s what examiners do, though – first they ask the questions you are supposed to know. If they don’t like your answers or you seem retarded, they tell you to go home and they keep your $380.00, which you will have to pay again to re-take the checkride. If you answer the questions to their satisfaction, they will pull out their 40-plus years of flying experience and start asking you the really obscure hard stuff. When this happens, you have passed the ground portion of the ride. Now he just wants to share knowledge. So he spent another thirty minutes asking me about how radio navigation evolved through the years, how carbon composite is manufactured, and told me some great stories about flying in the military.
If you are a pilot or even an enthusiast, you know what I mean when I say this – every time you meet a guy like my dad or this examiner or someone else who has been flying since the dawn of time, you want to somehow extract all of their knowledge and stories and keep it somewhere so none of it is ever lost. When they do eventually pass on, it’s like a museum burned down.
After being questioned for four hours, we went out to the plane and got it ready to go. I was nervous and made a couple of stupid mistakes that made him raise his eyebrows, but I caught the mistakes at the same time he did, so he didn’t stab me with his pen or anything. They are really checking to see that you follow procedures, use your checklists, and realize when things aren’t as they should be before they become as they really shouldn’t be.
That last point was illustrated as we were taking off. I knew he was going to cut an engine several times during the flight, and it has been hammered into my skull that if both engines are running, it’s only because your instructor is busy making another emergency happen for you. As we started rolling and the airspeed started coming up, he pulled the left engine back to idle, causing the plane to pretty much instantly turn 30 degrees to the left and holy cow did I ever jump all over that. It wasn’t done the way I had practiced it with my instructor, and it was a lot more “exciting” than what I was used to.
We got up in the sky and flew around for about an hour and a half, doing stalls and steep turns and simulated emergencies (if anybody reading this is interested in all of the details, email me. Otherwise I’ll spare everyone the intense boredom that I haven’t already spared them),and much like the ground portion, once he’s satisfied that you are competent, he’ll start asking what you would do in hypothetical situations.
“So let’s say the right engine is on fire and there are nuts and bolts and blood and oil flying out of the left engine and you’re all ‘Sweet baby Jesus in a jumpseat, where the hell did the blood come from?’ and there’s smoke in the cockpit and you can’t see and all of your electrical equipment burned up and the stick just came off in your hand and you’re in a hail storm…what would you do then?”
And you explain how you’d fill the cabin with vomit and liquid feces to force the smoke out and extinguish the electrical fire, and then you’d get out your “everything went to hell” checklist, and so on.
And finally he said the magic words – “Alright then, Mr. Scott, take me back home.”
As he was writing my temporary commercial ticket, I felt awesome. I hardly ever feel challenged anymore (although I act very challenged), and it was nice to really work hard and earn something. I also decided for sure what I’m going to do when I grow up.
Way to go Dusty!! Poor cat…no, that doesn’t mean I want her…
Congrats on the pilot thing, that must be a lovely thing indeed.
Your view is so WONDERFUL, I am jealous.
The thing you said about your dad and the museum burning down–I know exactly what you mean, I feel that way about my grandfather’s whole life. I have thought of secretly taping some of his stories. I say secretly because if I tried it out in the open he would tell me to kiss his ass.
Hi, I’m a long time reader, first time writer. Always makes me laugh! Anyway, the problem with Queasy may be simple as hell: the litter. My wife’s cat was leaving presents outside the box until we got litter designed for cats, not people. Now? No problems at all. The stuff we got is called “Dr. Elsey’s” It’s not any more expensive than Brand Whatever and we can’t tell the difference (except that the cat poops in it). And I don’t even work for Dr. Elsey! Congrats on getting licensed and good luck with your cat situation!
Congrats on the flying of planes. Fiery crashes are cool.
We have a cat that has started doing the same thing with the shitting and pissing outside the box. Because I’m stupid, we’re trying to retrain her. I call it sending “Amy Winehouse back to rehab.” She’s locked in a small room with food, water and a box.
This is her last chance, if she screws up again, she’s gone. What do you say we invent the Island for Misfit Cats where they can crap all over each other? Stupid cats. I’ve never once pissed on her stuff … maybe I should.
Nice job.
Geeeezzz I feel like a proud mom. Congrats !!!
and yes on the cat litter, my 17yr old cat was doing the samething, problem solved with new litter
PS wash the box out with hot soap and water too, than add a new liner
I love cats, really do. I even spring for the Fancy Feast grills for my two fur-butts. But there are plenty of homeless kittens out there who need love and who don’t have potty issues. Queasy’s had a “good” run. If the new litter doesn’t work, have her put to sleep and get a new one. You can name it Barf (if you’re going for progressive pet names) and Queasy can nap in heaven.
Congrats on the flying! My dad would have just dug a hole, sat the cat in front of it and “taken care” of the problem. Poor Queasy.
I live 2 miles from Orvis here in VT, and if that would get you a discount, I’d get you that rod. But it won’t. Sorry.
The bar is fabulous. She’s got great taste.
Hey Dusty, as always I enjoy the reading.
Is your dad still flying with Delta? I remember the time your dad took us up in the MD11 simulator…true awesome experience for me.(almost 15 years ago) Sounds like you are on the right track for your “true calling”.
Sorry to hear about your cat, as someone else wrote, try different litter. If not the .44 is your only answer!
Chris
Words cannot describe how proud I am to know that the folks who read this blog are nearly as twisted as I am. The Skirt and I were laughing our asses off at Claire’s comment.
Buttnob, pops retired in ‘02, but he still flies around and works now and then with the flight school to train us punks how not to kill ourselves. Was that 15 years ago? Christ.
-d
Are you seriously thinking of getting rid of the source of about a third of your material? You’ve already killed your neighbors kids (or you made it look like an accident), you can only talk about the skirt for so long (at least she gets you beers), and MP3s will make the ever popular album cover topic obsolete. What are you going to write about?
Yaknow, if I had any way whatsoever to get down there I’d take Queasy off your hands. My cat would bug the shit out of her.
I’m mid-calling Bekah, to see if she’s read this yet, and why your cat is not yet in her possession.
I totally know what you mean with the cat. My roommate’s cat has opted to use the carpet on more than one occasion. She took the cat to the vet and the vet said it was because she was stressed out about my parakeets and told my roommate to get rid of the parakeets. I told my roommate (who by the way, hates my parakeets and has been looking for an excuse to let them out and leave them alone in a room with the cat) that if I get rid of the birds, she gets rid of the cat. You at least have the robo-litter box. My roommate hasnt sprung for one of those yet, and I think THAT could be the solution to our problem-clean box for the cat. Otherwise, I say lets put Queasy and my roommate’s McShitter together and see if we can get a 2 for 1.
Queasy and the McShitter, bwahahahah! That’s a good one.
Whatever you do don’t try that pine-shit they say works better than regular litter. Supposed to smell great too. You aren’t supposed to know you have a cat! Bullshit. It just makes it smell like the cat is shitting pine trees.
Congrats on the license, way to go! I love the bar and the view. How is the water situation there though? I’ve heard it’s a little dry in Georgia lately?
please please please send me queasy? I’d love her & my Cat Andrew has a think for old ladies with white hair, he talks a lot and can romance her with meow meows. Plus I have all hardwood and tile floors! (she can live in a vaccum free society.
She (and your blog about her and the vaccuum) to this day can put a smile on my face in any situation.
Congrats on the kick ass birthday too. I have a gift policy of my friends only give memories as gifts. They are wonderful, unique and better than any crap that takes up room in my cupboards.
Congratulations!!
We had a cat that started crapping everywhere….
Vet said “she’s not happy” and we paid for all sorts of litter and kitty prozac (not kidding about the prozac).
Well it continued. I got mad…my wife got mad at me for being mad at the cat.
One day I went into the basement and then up 3 floors to my sons room and turned around to leave the room and noticed that I had stepped in shit and tracked it (you guessed it) from the basement up 3 floors and 100′ of hallway.
Well after I finished shampooing the carpets I laid down the law either the cat went or I was going to pop it’s head off in a rage….and did she want her children to witness that little event.
The next day the cat was gone.
Try Feliway- it’s a synthetic cat hormone that will relieve stress for Queasy (and it’s cheap.) Getting rid of her by giving her to someone else won’t fix the problem for her- it’s stress related. If all your tries fail with her, you should probably have her put to sleep.
In this field her problem is called “inappropriate elimination”- and it’s a big pain. I’d assume you’ve tried new litter and all that jazz; since she’s a senior kitty she’s just stressed about some changes in her life. Give her a chance, because a new home probably won’t change her behaviour.
-kate-long time fan
I’m a whippersnapper to you! Just what I always wanted. Man, if I feel old being my age, I can’t even imagine how old you must feel…
Congrats on the flying!
Congrats on officially becoming a pilot. Nice digs too.
Please - try the new litter or something first? The poor bastard of a cat, I feel bad for her.
I’m a part-time guide,and lemme tell ya something…Bamboo rods SUCK!I suppose you think they invented graphite to make airplanes with,or something.And from the looks of things on your pics,you need to work on your casting….
Oh yeah Mike? You need to work on your face.
Boom.
Yes, Mike…they make airplanes out of graphite, you dipshit. Come back when you’re smart enough to be a full-time guide.
Hey dusty, don’t give Queasy the stress reliever - if she gets any more relaxed she’ll probably die…unless that’s the point.
I’m thinking that this is Quesy’s way of telling you she’s tired of sharing you with the skirt. Just make it a quick and painless good-bye and embrace the new challenge of teaching quesy how to retreive you a can of suds.
Just a thought.
Congrats on the Commercial Pilot Ticket!
Why don’t you and the skirt fly your happy asses up to KC for BBQ and Beverages? I know a great little trout area, just begging for someone of your questionable talents with a fly rod. Nice Bar though, doesn’t look a bit like a frat house bar made out of old pallets and plywood.
Hi Dusty! I had the same kitty problem…I even put my cat in a kennel and she took a crap in the one place she had to stand instead of in the litter box. The vet said we could put her on downers and have her be gooned out for the next 15 years, but I put had her “put down” instead….the vet put her in a bag so I could bring her home to bury her and…you guessed it, she had her last revenge. (I might point out the bag was not waterproof)
Congrats on passing your check ride!!! I passed my night rating a few weeks back and I know about the Q&A session…
Drop me a line and give me all the juicy details if you have time!
Check six
D2
Nice hat.
About time you lost the cat.
Commercial license…congrats.
From Phil who lives in Jax.
Dusty,
Nice job on the Comm ticket! I’m too broke to fly during college, but I’m looking into joining CAP and studying as much instrument ground as I can possibly teach myself out of jeppesen textbooks. Any recommendations as to reading material?
Plan on going for the big iron, bizjets, or 1930s-type barnstormer, flying through airborne hoops on fire? (The hoops aren’t what’s on fire.)
-akb
Meet me at RDU on Tuesday Oct 30. Say…6:30AM or so. We need to get to DTW and then on to PHL in the late afternoon/evening. Pick me up at PHL on the 1st ad bring me back to RDU.
Thanks
While I agree that cats are spawned in the 7th circle of hell springing forth from a demon’s ass and that it’s our right, nay, duty to ensure they meet with the business end of a wood chipper, I’ve learned one or two things from a cat (”Dr. El Wray Sawbones, M.D.”) that wandered in to my life, being able to disguise his evil better than any other cat I’ve known. (Longest sentence ever. High five.)
1.) Electronic cat crapper cleaners are the most expensive mistake..ever. The sound scares the shit out of them. Though funny, not worth it.
2.) When cats get old and closer to death, litter boxes don’t exist to them. Vets can’t exactly diagnose ‘old age death-a-comin’.
3.) Moving stresses cats out.
Dr. El Wray Sawbones agrees. You can’t ignore a true doctor’s advice.
RE: the cat
Try valium. I had the same problem and a couple weeks of cat valium should set Queasy straight.
I’m leaving anyway. I’m just waiting on you to leave the door open long enough.
Can I have some money for a cab?
Dude, at least your cat doesn’t fill your bathtub with shit. Harvey Truant cannot possibly bear to shit in litter- I’ve tried every litter possible. I think it has something to do with splash-back on his long ass-hairs. Actually, all of his hair is long, and he’s an ass, but I’m talking specifically about the hair around his sphincter. When he’s mad at us, he calls us all to the backdoor, where he squats and craps and pisses on my doormat. I keep him alive because as much as he’s an asshole, he’s a clever asshole, and we’re a dying breed.
Congrats on the flying- I’ve always been intrigued, but where others dare to dream, Dusty does!!
Since the cat is gonna be history can I have her job. I’d love to lay on the padded window sill and have the million dollar view. Just Gorgeous. Just proves animals are stupid to give up that gig.
Cat pozac?Now that I think about it I want to be “the person who decides felines who are over stressed need prozac”person when I grow up..They have to make some serious cash of of people..Better yet….Can I have the prozac and shhot the cat?