Cat Nipped

One of the perks of house sitting is that we have a built in animal butler. Her name is Grasminet.

The PG translation of Grasminet is "fat kitty." It's meant in a charmingly playful way (as Grasminet is not fat at all).

Grasminet is 10, which I'm told is middle aged for cats. She performs her duties as cat butler very well--she chases birds and keeps my parents company. She even tans in her spare time. That said, Grasminet has been known to keep the peace against less civilized cats in our area. Which is how she got that awesome scar on her left ear. It's small enough to be hidden for an important photo shoot, but noticeable enough to say, "Yea, I started a fight club."

My mother is allergic to cats, but she also loves animals. Especially ones that communicate. And Grasminet has no qualms with laying down the law. She loudly 'meows' when she wants doors opened, lights turned off, and her burger flipped.

Seriously--she likes to eat the grizzly bits left over on the grill. She's got my dad wrapped around her paw too. That said, she enjoys my mother's habits more (as they're proper and civilized). Shes even taken to drinking chardonnay (though she prefers pinot gritio). 

Also like my mom, she's reading the new Dan Brown novel on her Nook.

She's finding it a little reductive, but now desperately wants to visit Italy. 

I know, I know! I won't spoil the ending. 

One of her most impressive talents--by far--is a knack for drinking water with her paws.

This was something she learned as a cat-in-waiting before fleeing her country estate because of pregnancy. She continues to insist it was immaculate conception but my money's on the farm hand.

Unfortunately, I learned something pretty upsetting today. While taking a post dinner stroll I saw Grasminet in an alley by our house with another cat. They were just sort of staring at each other and purring loudly. I had been falsely convinced that Grasminet was putting her full attention on us, and our needs. I was blinded with rage and confusion as I ran back to our house...

That's why I've started covering the grill. 

Secret Story

For the past week and a half I’ve been vacationing with my family. We started with a trip across the Atlantic on the Queen Mary 2 before spending a day in both Paris and London. Now we're house sitting in the South of France. But I’m not going to tell you about any of that because I’ve discovered something way more exciting.

Nothing’s a better indicator of being abroad—aside from the size of bathing suits and the cereal aisle—than TV. Reality TV in particular is a delicious reflection of beauty/cultural standards around the globe. For example, my friend spent a semester in Senegal and raved about that country's most popular show, “Khar Bii” or “This Sheep.” Much like “American Idol” a group of judges (mostly veterinarians) search from village to village assessing rams on different, sheep-y qualities. But these aren’t just any “Honey Boo Boo” rams they're looking for; they’re making…stars! And because sheep are a popular Senegalese pet there are plenty of worthy candidates. One man even rents out the top floor of his house to his fluffy friend.

It’s not all glitz and glamour though, much like how junior pageant queens must muddy their teeth with Vaseline so they can “Smile Big” (picture me mouthing this to you from the back of a motel conference room while you nervously fidget with your tiara) each ram goes through a thorough examination, starting with a rectal thermometer to check overall health. Family TV!

“Khar Bii” runs for weeks, and the competition is grueling as the judges whittle down the pack. In the end, only one ram can win. And like all reality shows, the same qualities shine through in a winner no matter the culture, religion or language: testicle symmetry and quality of coat.

In France, I’ve become fascinated with a reality show called “Secret Story.” To be honest, I’ve only seen bits and pieces of it, and I have no idea what’s going on. It does (seemingly) stick to many standard reality show tropes. Sixteen attractive and maniacal young people live in boarding house that looks like it was remodeled by Liberace. There’s an infinite pool in the living room and yet, they all sleep in college-style double beds. There’s also a voice that tells them what to do from time to time, and, of course, there’s a confessional.

But most of the show is inexplicable to me. How are they all protecting their individual pots of money? How does one get kicked out? What must all their parents be thinking?

 

So to investigate I picked up a tabloid magazine at my local paper stand. I asked the woman behind the counter which magazines could reliably tell me about “Secret Story” (that’s really what it’s called, you just say it with a French accent). Tabloids in France come with a hot pink heading and titles like “Secret!” and “Surprise!!” and “Oooppsss!!!” which, in that order, suggests a birthday party gone terribly wrong. She handed me about 5 different options, adding, “I don’t really watch it though.” And I didn't watch every episode of the first season of The Surreal Life. Your Secret (Story) is safe with me. 

Here’s what I know so far from my reading. Alexia and Vincent seem to be dating. And one of them is a sex addict! Alexia looks like Melissa Joan Hart with a bad dye-job and Vincent has a creepy beard. I don’t know either of them personally, but I’m happy they’ve found each other.

Also Eddy and Jamal are in love. Eddy should replace Tilda Swinton as the image that comes up when you google search “androgyny.”

But! It seems like their relationship is some scheme:

[Since their couple mission (and even before), Eddy fell under Jamel's charm. Only once the mission ended, Jamel became heterosexual again and Eddy was strongly saddened: he is crazy in love for his roommate.]

What?? The plot thickens. Seems like they were only pretending to be a couple. But to what end?! Well at least Alexia and Vincent are really in love, right?

                                                      [Vincent: he is bi !]

OK. Well now that I'm looking at that photo...

A little late to the party, I realize that all the characters have secrets they have to hide from the other members of the house, but I can’t tell if they’re real secrets or imposed by the show. For instance, Julien is apparently "dirty,"

Clara is a kleptomaniac,

Guillaume is an erotomaniac,

“What’s going on?” you may be thinking. Me too. So far, I know two things for certain: Gautier only “has to snap his fingers to get what he desires” (and with hair like that, I can believe it) --

and also, whatever these secrets mean, you and I both know what the competition will come down to. Strategy and deception aside, what’s going to settle this one is a shiny exterior coat and a pair of cupped hands.