General Pixel

Pixel. General Pixel, to be exact. She is a walking terror on four furry legs that gives no fucks. Exactly zero. She is unlike any kitten or cat I have ever had before, and in my younger years I owned a lot of cats. I was the crazy cat lady all through grade school, middle school, and the first year of high school. Perhaps I find this cat so damn strange because I've never lived with a cat as an adult. Was my mother and father's relationships with my cats so off the wall or is it just me? I may never know, but what I do know is that this cat is a lunatic and I'm going to share with you all of the insanity I witness on a day-to-day basis.

Here we go, my first time being a cat owner as an adult:

Never before have I had a cat want attention from only one person. It's always been everyone or not one. General Pixel, however, only seems to want attention from my fiance at all times of the day. When he leaves the house she shits in the floor in front of the door and meows for ten minutes like he's made of magic and cat nip or some shit. I'm not sad to see him leave a few hours of the day and I'm about to marry the bag of dicks.

He's trying to sleep, but she wants lovins. Right meow.

When she wants attention, it's not a petting she wants. It's nuzzling... or something like that. She wants you to rub your face and nose against her head and move it down her neck and back. Like, "PET ME WITH YOUR FACE, HUMAN!" What? I didn't even know that was a thing...

Sometimes, and by sometimes I mean daily, if you are busy or reading or playing a game, she will sit on your chest and lay against your face with her spine just under your nose, making you look like you have a massive cat mustache. Or she will sit in front of your face, blocking one of your eyes like a fuzzy eye patch with a bad attitude.

My future husband mustache you a cat-related question.

Trash. She plays with trash. Not nasty trash, we keep that away from her (at least we try). But in her cat tube/safe haven/evil lair she has a square of bubble wrap, crinkly candy wrappers, the bag the candies came in, crinkly paper, a Walmart bag, my first bra (literally, my first bra that was bought for me over 12 years ago that I've kept all this time because it still fits *sad face*), and a balled up gas station receipt. It's like the 12 Day of Christmas in that tube. Know what's not in there? The toys we actually spent money on. Yeah, not making that mistake again. And, yes, it's cute when she's going H.A.M. on the bubble wrap but not when we have to chase her down and take a Trojan condom wrapper from her because no, just no.

Along with paper type trash, she also chases, plays with, and sometimes eats bugs. Giant ants and spiders are batted around the room like she's training to become a professional hockey player. And, yes, she eats them. Like she did to the tiny ant just now...

There is also the sock fetish. She's constantly sneaking into our housemate's room and stealing his socks, and hiding them in her tube or under our bed or under the couch in the living room. She also loves to play with our dirty socks. I don't know why the dirty ones. The first time I was this happen I yelled to my fiance, "Don't let her play with our dirty socks! That's nasty!" To which he responds, "She licks her butthole!" Well... he's right...

Yes, Pixel, we see you licking your butthole and stealing our dirty socks...

Any time someone is scooping her litter she does one of three things:

1. She waits until you are about halfway finished and decides she needs to poop. So you abandon the job entirely and leave one half of the litter box full of hardened poo and ENORMOUS clumps of piss.
2. She waits until you are completely finished and then poops in the fresh, clean litter. So you walk away mumbling "fuck it".
3. She just sits and watches you like a supervisor that insists on micro managing this simple task. It's almost as if she's trying to figure out what you're doing. I have to admit, she probably does think we're crazy, or stupid, or both. We made such a big deal about her finally learning to bury her poop with the litter, and then here we are digging it up.

She poops and pees more than any other cat I have ever had, and I used to own MULTIPLE cats. At one time in grade school I know for sure that I owned five and never had to scoop this much litter. We have two litter boxes for General Pixel. TWO. And she fills them up so quickly. She's a shit storm of piss and rage and I have no idea why. Seriously, I NEVER see her drink water but she pees like a river. Her clumps of cat urine are the size of small shoes, at least.

She prefers the old litter box and I don't know why. We first adopted her off of the front porch of a sweet lady with too many cats when she was just six weeks old. She was so tiny she fit in one of my hands. She's three or four times that size now, if not bigger, so we bought her a much larger litter box and moved the small kitten-sized litter box downstairs for her convenience. She prefers that one. She will run downstairs at full speed as fast as she can to poop in her tiny litter box. Why, Pixel, why!?

She has pounced on my eyelashes. I wish I were making that up. Here I am lying in bed with my fiance, having a normal(-ish) conversation, when the cat pounces on my eye. I didn't know what she was doing so I just picked her up and put her on the other side of my bed, went back to talking like a mostly normal person, and BAM! She pounces on my eye again. What the hell? So I swat her behind and move her again, when she does it a third time! I watch her a little closer and realize she's staring hardcore at my eyes, but not into them (if that makes sense at all). Crazy ball of fluff had it out for my lashes. i just can't even....

It has recently been discovered by the house's feline terror that I have a naval piercing. Upon this discovery and any time she remembers about it she will swat, paw, and gnaw on my naval ring. This is where I feel like I'm borderline hitting mom-mode because I think to myself, "Well, it doesn't hurt, she's being good, and she's not breaking anything, so I'll just let her play with my belly button ring while I'm wearing it." Seriously, I just want her to behave so bad that I'll let her play with my body jewelry while I'm wearing it. Just calm the fuck down, cat, and I'll let you gnaw on these bolts in my skin!

We can't throw away empty boxes because they are her backup lairs. She has her cat tube and any box with a small hole in it. Such as soda boxes, the plastic covered boxes of ramen noodle, and the bulk size boxes we buy her canned food in. So long as you don't tear the whole top off, and just rip a small hole, she will slither in like a footed snake and just poke her head out like a submarine telescope. It's adorable until you realize there's an empty box in almost every room of the house...

She has and plays her own games on my tablet. She's even beaten her own high score. it was in the 400s but now it's over 1000. The strange thing is, when she realizes she can't get the little characters through the glass screen she starts to stick her paws under the tablet. Does she think they're under it? Or that she's looking through a glass front door?

The lazer dot on the tablet. Thank you, whoever thought of this.

Our housemate has a female chihuahua, Bella. Now, this chihuahua likes to hump our cat daily, multiple times a day. he says that's how female dogs show that they like each other, like friends. Come to think of it, I know several people who dry hump their friends, so that's nothing new. The strange thing is that Pixel takes it most of the time, and that's odd because she's usually a bitch about everything. She doesn't try to move or run away or anything, like it doesn't even faze her. But she also doesn't make any noises. She just sits there as Bella humps her, like she's waiting for the dog to finish and roll over. It looks like they're lesbians in a straight marriage and Pixel is the wife who is like, "Hurry up, I've got things to do." Then there's the off chance that Pixel has had enough and she rolls over to claw and bite while rabbit kicking Bella's belly. There is no middle ground with this lunatic cat.

She has a scratching post. She loves the scratching post. It lays in the floor. She also loves to stand right next to the scratching post, make eye contact with us, and begin scratching the carpet next to her post. It's like the episode of Orange is the New Black where Crazy Eyes makes crazy eye contact while pissing in the floor of Piper's cell. Just like...really? You're doing this RIGHT THERE!? And she's like "What are you going to do about it? That's what I thought."

You're not gonna do a damn thing.

She does the 3-Pet-Walk-Away. She lets me pet her a total of three times before walking away like she wants nothing else to do with me. Most of the time she walks over to my fiance for face-petting and stares me down while it's happening. It's like she wants to throw in my face that someone else is petting her and I'm not allowed. No, you're not a bitch at all, are you, Pixel?

If I'm in the bathroom she HAS to be in there with me and will make her way in there. When this first happened she would stick her paw under the door and pull the bathroom door open. Whaaat? I didn't even know cats could do that. Anyway, General Pixel likes to on the side of the tub or sin on my lap or play in the drain of the sink or the tub. She also likes to claw at the tall tower of toilet paper like it's another scratching post. I've gotten so used to it that I leave the bathroom door cracked for her because I know she'll be in there soon. Oh, and if I lock her out she'll sit at the door and meow.

Yes, I'm on the toilet. Oh, okay, sure, I'll pet you. Yeah, now is fine.

She's afraid of the dark. Felines have excellent vision in the dark, but that does not make our cat a brave warrior of the night. If she is in a room and you turn off the light she will make for the nearest exit and go towards the light. My fiance insists on leaving the hallway light or our lamp on for her at least until sunrise. Yes, a nightlight for the cat, it would be more believable if I were making it up.

Pixel will not sleep alone and hates to be in a room alone. If everyone leaves a room or she wakes up and finds herself alone in a room she will hunt down the nearest human and play or sleep across the room from them or next to them. At night she sleeps in our bed with us. She even has a side of the bed. She sleeps against the wall or between us or on us, no exceptions.

You can never leave me alone... or turn off the light.

She sleeps all day. Like, 18 hours all day. I'm not sure if it's because she's growing or if it's because she's storing and building up energy so for the six hours she's awake she can go completely ape shit and fuck up everything, jumping all over the place, clawing up everything she can get her claws into, and bite all things smaller than her mouth and most things bigger. She was biting a small bag of noodles today. Why? Why a small bag of noodles!? It's a daily six hours of WTF!? followed by 18 hours of IS SHE SLEEPING AGAIN!?

I have so many pictures of her like this. Just sleeping away. She's actually sleeping next to me right now...

I can't help but feel like this strange, picky cat is a prequel to parenthood for us will all the strange things we're willing to do for her, from letting her play with body jewelry to keep her behaving and downloading special games for her to play on my tablet. I also can't help but feel like she's so damn mean and ornery that she will still be alive by the time we become parents. This cat will probably outlive our grandchildren.

But, this is the list of strange things my cat does. If I think of more I will update the list because I'm sure as time goes on this cat will only get stranger and even more stubborn. 

Oh joy.

-Tome Raider

I see you've put out some clothes to dress in after your hot, long-awaited shower. Yes, these will be excellent for me to sit on, thank you.  "Um, you're welcome, General Pixel...?"

I've Made Cake, so I Can Make Cake Pops, Right?

Some things I have never done before: make cake pops, use a mixer. Today I will dive head first into both. This is a task I am going to do completely alone, asking no stupid questions (except maybe to myself) and asking for no help. Seriously, how badly could I screw this up? Well... I did screw up that Reese's dessert that required no cooking, only microwaving, but that could happen to anyone. Right?

So, I read the directions on the back of the box and, no surprise, find myself confused.

"What? I bake it like an actual cake first? I thought they were supposed to be on these sticks?"

To be safe I read it again, a little more carefully, and see the crumbling and mixing with frosting part. I thought the frosting went on the outside of cakes, but evidently I'm melting white wafers for that. Okay. Sure. We'll do that.

First thing's first, preheat the oven. I don't know why anyone would ever complain about preheating an oven. You just turn it on and forget it's on. I do that all the time, even when I don't need to preheat. Okay, it's on and I'm walking away. Next step.

Something I learned the hard way a few years back, before you cook something make sure you have all of the needed ingredients. Nobody wants to throw away half mixed batter. I grab an egg and a measuring cup and a gallon of water because we have that sulfur well water and no one wants a cake pop that smells like you put waaaayy more than the required amount of eggs in it. I splash the water into the measuring cup, oh, too much. Waste not want not, better sip some of the water out. Sip, sip, sip. Still to much? Sip, sip sip. Still too much? What the Hell, water? Sip, sip. Close enough.

Oops, didn't check to see if I had oil. Dammit. Hmm. Extra virgin olive oil or canola oil? Of course, the directions don't say. So I'll assume it's safer to use the canola oil for baking because olive oil is what the Italian restaurants use to keep the Alfredo from ever really touching the plate.

A tablespoon?! People actually measure that out? You know, I bet I could eyeball that. Bloop, bloop. There. That looks like a tablespoon.

Now for the part that I've been warned about over and over. Using the mixer or beater or whatever the proper title of this thing is. Right before I started this process my housemate told me to be sure and put it into the batter before turning it on, and since this is technically his house (he's buying and I'm renting) I'll try to keep from covering his red kitchen in yellow cake batter.

The directions say to beat on low speed for 30 seconds, but the mixer or beater doesn't say Low, Medium, High. It says 1 2 3 4 5. So we're gonna play the guessing game like teenagers in love and put it on 1 for now, and if nothing goes wrong we'll go up to 2.

Thirty seconds of no disaster and I feel that it's safe to turn it off and go to the next step. Scrape the bowl and mix for an additional two minutes. Are you fucking serious? Why do I need to scrape the damn bowl and remix? I just mixed it. Why didn't it just say to mix for two and a half minutes? Do I scrape the whole bowl or just the sides? Do I scrape it into something? Am I scraping the lumpy batter or just the bowl? Am I even supposed to scrape the inside of the bowl?

Whatever, I take a spoon and scrape around every inch inside the bowl whether it has batter on it or not and hold it at an angle so it all pools at the bottom because, surprise surprise, I've selected a bowl that's way too big for this small amount of batter. Is this handful of batter really going to make 12 cake pops? Shrug. We'll see, I suppose.

Let's see... bake for 12 to 15 minutes in 8x8 pan. Hmm... I don't know if this is an 8x8 pan, but it's the only one I have that's deep enough. The others are the flat pans for cookies and french fries, so we're using this and hoping for the best. Let's scrape this strange looking batter into the too small pan and put it in the forty-something year old oven.

Cake batter is in the oven and I've started to type this blog. TIME WARP! Best to get this stuff down before you forget it. I bet I've forgotten almost as much as I've learned over the years. I can't start the next step yet because it involves the yellow cake batter. So I type until I notice that the cake batter has been in the oven for sixteen minutes. Oops. I pull out a lumpy, strange-looking, browner-than-it-should-be tiny yellow cake. Directions say to let it cool completely. I guess I'll sit it on the stove and finish typing my journey so far and come back when I'm finished. Surely it will be cooled down by then.

Did I turn the oven off? Hmm.. no, no I didn't. Well, it's off now, so let's go upstairs where my fiance is litter box training our cute but needy, six-week-old kitten. As soon as I sit on the bed with my laptop the kitten, Pixel, climbs onto the keyboard, opening a ton of windows, and begins to snooze. She didn't even want me to pet her. She just wanted to sleep on my keyboard. Since I'm not completely heartless yet I will allow this tiny kitten to sleep on my keyboard and take pictures of her with my tablet. Because my friends and family on Facebook NEED to see this kitten sleeping on my laptop while I'm trying to blog about cake pops. Who wouldn't want to see that? Don't you want to see that? Here, I'll share with you, too.

Eventually she wakes up long enough to move from my laptop to my bed and goes back to sleep. Seriously, again? How long is this kitten gonna sleep? All day? All night? I just tell myself it's because she's growing and leave her to her cute slumber.

The lumpy, brownish-yellow cake is probably cooled off by now. Time to see what the next step is. I think I'm supposed to crumble it up and mix it with frosting now. Because that makes total sense. Shrug. Whatever works.

Yes, the next step is to crumble up the cake into a bowl and mix with the small frosting packet. I take this strange looking cake, that now has a hole in it because a wasp had fallen onto it, to crumble it and realize it feels like a sponge. That's weird, Spongebob is nowhere on the box. Did I bake a cake or make a home made dish sponge? It even lifts out of the pan easily, whole and intact. It feels rubbery, too. Maybe it's an eraser sponge?

I crumble the sponge-eraser-cake into a bowl, wishing I had not used my largest bowl for mixing the weird-feeling batter, and find the small frosting packet. The directions say to squeeze this packet ten times. Exactly ten. I suppose nine isn't enough and eleven is too much? How did they find this out? Who made a bajillion batches of cake balls just to find out precisely how many times to squeeze this tiny packet of white frosting?

I squeeze and count to ten and dump the frosting in. I thought the amount of cake batter was small, this frosting that I assume is going to act as a type of paste is even smaller. This is all the frosting-paste I need? Really? Was this another variable in the bajillion batches of test cake balls? Whatever, I just grab a fork and stir and stir until it looks the same as it did when I first crumbled it. Really.. it doesn't even look like the frosting made a difference. Huh. Oh well, just following the directions on the box.

Next I am instructed to make tightly compacted one inch balls and place them on a cookie sheet covered in wax paper. Really!? Could you have at least listed wax paper up at the top with the eggs and oil in the designated picture area? I have never bought or used wax paper in my life. I don't even think I ever saw my mother use it come to think of it. Looks like we're improvising. I wrap a cookie sheet in aluminum foil and make the tightly compacted balls, aiming for twelve, and line them up on the foil. And I came up with nine. Yes. Three short. Then again, that one looks like it's the size of two or three, and everyone is trying to pre-claim it as their own. (Part way through this process two friends came over bringing video games, DND supplies, and beer. Good times.) So none of them seem to be the same size and I shrug and leave them be. Next step.

Place half the pack of white wafers into a bowl and melt in thirty second intervals, stirring between microwaving. Do not overheat. This feels tedious. How are these so popular?

So I microwave and stir and microwave and stir and microwave and stir..... I swear the microwave goes off as soon as I sit down. Is thirty seconds really even doing anything?

Next step, dip each stick half an inch into the newly melted white puddle that sucked out years of your life in thirty second intervals and push into each cake ball. I believe this is to help keep it on the stick. I think I'd like to have direction that tell me why I am doing these seemingly odd steps. 

Dip, stick, sip, stick, dip, stick.... okay done. And now we're refrigerating them for fifteen minutes or so. One of my friends that brought the DND and beer asks if they're ready to eat now and I have to break his heart and tell him no. At least everyone is getting excited about them.

Next step, add the rest of the white wafers to the frosting you just used for dipping and sticking and melt in THIRTY SECOND INTERVALS. Who picked out this dessert again!? Oh yeah, my fiance...

So, I'm back to melting and stirring in thirty second intervals and trying to cook Hamburger Helper at the same time (some of the hamburger meat may have burned, I dunno, they all ate it). Finally it has a smooth-ish but still kinda tough consistency so I grab the cake pops out of the fridge and put dinner on simmer with a lid.

The first one I grab and dip it into the new frosting and give it a spin like you would a fondue fountain. I pull my stick back up and there's nothing on it. What the Hell? There's a ball cracked completely in half laying in my puddle of melt-me-in-intervals frosting. I try to poke the stick trough another side but it breaks again. Damn it all. I scoop it out with a spoon and offer it to my fiance who shakes his head. Whatever, I'll eat it myself. Hmm... not bad, really. 

Since the obvious step didn't work I have to improvise yet again. So I scoop a bunch of the frosting up with the spoon and kinda try to frost it the way would a cupcake, twisting the frosting and the spoon until it's spread poorly across the lumpy ball. I say fuck it and throw some sprinkles on it and lay it on the tray.

That same drinking friend is pretending to complain that it doesn't look the way it does on the box and everyone ignores him. I frost seven more with similar results. Patchy, lumpy, sprinkles look crazy. Whatever. In the fridge. They need to be in there for about 45 minutes. So I walk away and forget that I made them until my house mate comes up stairs much later and says:

"These are fucking delicious!"

I'd call that a success. They may not be pretty enough to sell at Starbucks for the same price as the whole box of mixes but they're "fucking delicious".

I don't have a picture of the end result because they were eaten so quickly but I'm sure they looked something like this:

All things considered, I'd say my cake pop adventure turned out well. Oh, look, we have a second box. Joy.

-Tome Raider

                                                                 Cake pops delicious!