Where Cats are Kings

Bowling Green, Ky. Saturday morning. Yes, after 24 hours worth of travel, I thought, what the heck, and drove eight hours south-east to Bowling Green, KY. It was worth every minute that some redneck in a Ford truck tried to drive me off the road. Talk about culture shock! Gone was my gay Paris and its delicate manners. In its place was conspicuous consumption, couples on motorcycles, their arm fat flapping in the wind, and men barrelling down the highway in monster-sized red trucks. But now I am in Bowling Green, KY, where cats are kings. I was thrilled to see my parents! We went out to eat at Garcia's, where my mom and dad know everyone who works there, and then headed home, where we doted on Raffi and Frida, our cats. These cats are incredibly spoiled. It even makes me sick. Now I am going to be leisurely and read by the pool. The first things my parents said was that I was so pale. Given that Paris was rainy and cold, I didn't find this observation the least bit surprising. But now I'm going to make a come-back. No way am I going to let my red-headed (RED-HEADED!) sister be darker than me. No way.