Friday, August 27, 2010

Hippos, giraffs, and house cats

I'm going to say the F word a lot in this post, so please prepare yourself.


There, see?  I said it.  Fat, fat, fat, fat, fat.

Now that we're over that, let me get on with what I really wanted to talk about: animals

My favorite animal that doesn't live in my house is a giraffe. Because I'm tall and have a long neck I often get associated with the noble gangly giraffe, which is really good, because they're not always all that graceful, and neither am I. But they don't talk or make any noises and I certainly do... they just cough to signal danger, which is, as Eddie Izzard says, "very British." I like their little horn-nubs and their eyelashes that go on for miles, like Snuffleupagus, only with spots that aren't round instead of shaggy mammoth hair. Snuffy was a woolly mammoth, wasn't he? An imaginary woolly mammoth, with no tusks? But I digress. Where was I? Oh yes, Giraffes--long necks, no grace, horn nubs, eyelashes. I think that about sums it up.

In case you were wondering what my favorite animal that does live in my house is--and why wouldn't you be?-- it is,of course, the fat lazy house cat, of which I have 2. I also have one not-fat, lazy house cat.  
Ruzulka & Valkyrie
If I believed in reincarnation, I would want to come back as a house cat--and preferably one of my friend's cats, because they treat their beasties very well.  Some of them even live to be 21--my friend's cats, not my friends. Most of them are well past 21 years of age already, thankfully. That way they can all buy me a drink. But 21 in cat years is amazing when you think of it... that's way past "ripe old age" and into "amazing longevity." The Methuselah of cats!  And they live good lives, with food and pettin's and toys and friends to play with and comfy places to sleep.  When it comes to creature comforts, that's the life for me!

And if I were ever to be an animated animal, it would be Hyacinth Hippo*.  If you don't know who she is, go watch Fantasia, the original, and see the wonderful hippopotamus dancing with an alligator in the Dance of the Hours.  She is the embodiment of Afternoon, which really is perfect for me, for I am neither an early bird nor a night owl.  I like to say that I'm a mid-afternoon cockatoo, but in truth, I'm more like Hyacinth.

Hyacinth is the prima donna of the hippos, and I think of myself as the prima donna of my life.  Only I don't get to wear a tutu, and that's sad.

Once a long ago, standing around the living room of the Ghetto Chateau, my friend Shannon & I were watching Fantasia talking about boys.  She is a lithe, petite woman.  Slender.  She likes large, strapping men--linebacker types as she says.  I am... neither lithe, nor petite, and certainly not slender.  I am fat (and I say this with no malice, or self-disparaging intent, but as a statement of fact--but don't call me fat.  Only I get to do that--which may not be fair, but it's true).  I am not the fattest fat that ever fatted, but I have my spare pounds tucked all over, like a change-hoarding hobo... but I digress. I like scrawny white boys.  This being established, Shannon & I were discussing that our tastes in men seemed to have been somehow switched.  I, the big girl, should be on the look out for a large, strapping man--one to make me feel dainty and feminine, and not like the 6' pile of awkward that I am.  She, the petite brunette, should be looking for someone who shares her build and won't crush her if he trips and lands on her.  But this is untrue.  And the kicker is this--you see giant linebacker types with thin women all the time.  It's perfectly normal.  It's visual familiar.  You hardly ever see big girls with skinny boys.  It makes your brain break a little to see.

Then, just then, on the tv, came Hyacinth Hippo in all her tutu'd glory.  Strutting and throwing her hippo-sized self around.  And pursued by the itty-bitty Ben Ali Gator. She jumps & he catches her.  She crushes him, but he triumphs, lifting her up & spinning her about and generally just being wonderful.  And Shannon says to me, "Look there!  That's your love story."  And so it was.

Many years later, I would meet my Alligator.  And then we got  married.

And put this on our cake--because I have talented friends who can take Christmas Ornaments & make them into cake toppers.

So, there's that.  The reasons I like hippos.  They are fat, and they're ok with that.  So am I. That, and their adorable ears, and the fact that they get to spend most of their life submerged in water... that's cool too.

*Or Ursula, because she's purple-ish & does magic & sings the best songs.  I don't care that Ariel is a redhead, Ursula is the reason to watch the movie.  So there.

No comments:

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...