Cats and Fritos

Now, here is something you probably won't ever hear a man say: "I was so pissed off I ate half a bag of Fritos."

I'm not talking about a little single serving bag, either. I'm talking, y'know, bag of Fritos. I'd just bought it at the store today. Impulse buy. Perhaps I subconsciously knew I'd have a need for them later.

I go home. I've been having a pretty spiffy weekend. I'm down to the bit where I do laundry.

Now, the kitten (referenced below) has made remarkable strides in getting used to the things I do around the house. For instance, I can now type on the computer without fear she'll jump on the keyboard every few minutes. But she still hasn't quite gotten over the excitement of laundry.

So, there I am, sitting on the couch, folding laundry, and Jasmine does a header into the stuff I've already folded -- sending various bits of intimate apparel flying off of their tidy little piles. I attempt to remove her from the couch and she expresses her disapproval of this plan by clamping her teeth around my arm. Hard.

I'd like to take a moment to mention the idiot quoted here, who takes the position that when a cat bites, you should "push toward your cat" rather than pulling away. I thought I'd give this a shot. Conclusion: pushing my arm toward my cat, while her teeth are still engaged, just gives her an opportunity to get a better grip.

So, once I disengaged my cat and went through my standard Getting Bit Reaction List (which involves, in no particular order: acting really pissed off toward the cat, locking her out of my bedroom, and Bactine), I grabbed the Fritos and sat down on the couch, still being all petulant toward the cat.

I read the label. It said 12 chips constitute a serving, which is 10 grams of fat. High (nearly a gram a frito!), but, hey, I watch what I eat, I don't diet. I can have 12 chips.

I started eating them out of the bag, counting. I think I stopped at "six." The cat came by, cautiously being adorable in my presence. I just kept munching fritos. She put her face in the bag, to sniff all that fried corn goodness. I gently pushed her away and kept snacking. She walked away. I, er, kept eating fritos.

I eventually stopped when the bag felt noticeably lighter. I looked at it and half the bag was gone.

I don't feel so good.