This week saw the similarly abrupt arrival and exeunt of a small orange cat at Gerry's apartment. From what I gather, Monday evening three excitable undergrads presented him with a year-old cat wrapped in a light blue sweater and a smattering of cat supplies purchased so recently the receipt ink was scarcely dry. Essentially, an all-in-one cat care kit, presented with the sincere hope that said cat might live with Gerry. Gerry, being the probable exclusive caregiver, was incredulous to the idea, though the girls made promises to stop by often to help with care and feeding of the feline presently hiding under the bed for lack of a say in the matter. If there is a common factor to any of Gerry's few questionable decisions, it is my consort, so he called me to come see the cat. They had coaxed it back to the couch when I arrived, where it was shedding by the bale from the stress of being lugged around campus by such an excitable gaggle, all the while quietly praising the management of their apartment complex for a rule against cats. Yadda yadda, Gerry got a cat. Ever wonder what happens when you introduce an unpredictable element into a controlled environment? Gerry's expression while watching the cat was often that of a Swiss engineer surveying a room full of children fingerpainting- open befuddlement at the random behaviors and quiet amusement. I got to play the role of the cool uncle who only shows up long enough to spoil the cat rotten with attention, never once having to put up with the nighttime quirks when the cat couldn't sleep. The aforementioned girls put up fliers in the village and the owner claimed him, confirming his gender for us. Though they were grateful, they failed to offer any recompense for the expenses of boarding a cat. The term "schmucks" has been suggested more than once. Curiously, the cat is missed. Of course I miss the little bugger, because I didn't do much to care for him aside from checking in once and helping with some basic cat knowledge gained from caring for June at USF. Gerry freely admits to being attached to the cat, having tentatively dubbed him "Streaky" after Supergirl's cat circa 1960. This was a good little cat- he sat on our laps and greeted people like a dog.

I just saw Everthus the Deadbeats play an outdoor show- good stuff as always. They travel with a rubbermaid bin full of various noise makers that the crowd can play along with, and one stalwart fan always shows up with a skillet and spoon. The act before them was one guy dressed in black with a cape and large sunglasses. He sang along with some sort of old background music CD and danced around. It was funny, then annoying, then ultimately cool. At one point he danced out to the middle of the road to dance in front of an alpha-male stereotype driving a convertible. The guy looked pretty confused, as most people would, and the crowd loved it. The Belle Ends were conspicuously absent, as this was supposed to be their big comeback show.