Ask Max Monday: Interviewish

Ask Max Monday

Max: how can you tell if something is mentally wrong with one of your sisfurs? She likes to go outside with the mom, she doesn’t like catnip or whipped cream, and she sleeps in the cat carrier. What gives??

There’s nothing wrong with her, she’s just different, and that’s kinda cool. It takes guts to march to your own drum. As long as she’s not mean, I’d embrace that difference. It means more whipped cream and catnip for you, and the cat carrier winds up smelling like sister and not scary stabby things. Or pee. For some reason, mine smells like pee.

MAX WHY WAS ASK MAX LATE TODAY?

Chit happens, dood. Last night I had some connectivity issues, and there was only one question so I decided to wait until morning. Waiting also meant maybe there’s be another question, like WHY ARE YOU LATE? And then I could yell back BECAUSE!

Well, were there other questions?

Naw. There was email that had no questions. Some dood in Titicaca or Zimbabwe or Texas wants to send me money so that I can be a prince and join his cult of stupid by depositing his check and then sending some money back. And someone else is using my email address (by mistake, I think) and I got a password reset request for their insurance account, and also emailed receipts for shopping at toys stores and clothing stores (whoever you are…cripes, chop at better places.) I swear, between my email and the woman’s, we get enough information about 20 other people (seriously) that if we were less considerate, we could engage in some serious identity shenanigans.

Double check the email you hand out, peoples. We know where your kids go to school, the activities they participate in, where you shop, where you work, who your dentist and doctors are, and a bunch of other things you probably don’t want a total stranger to know.

What do you do when there aren’t enough questions?

Sit here and talk to myself, mostly. Which, to be honest, is not a bad thing. Normally the only one I have to talk to is Buddah, but he just kind of sits there and stares at me like he doesn’t speak Cat. Sometimes I talk to the Woman, but she doesn’t grasp that I’m just trying to have a normal conversation and she thinks I want something, and then contorts herself trying to figure out what it is that I want. That’s not always a bad thing because it usually ends with me getting crunchy treats or a bite of real live fresh dead steak, but sometimes all a guy wants to to have a talk, you know?

I didn’t know you were so sensitive.

Dood, I am sensitive as fark. Not in a wimpy way, but in the I’ll treat you fairly way, and I’ll always try to be kind way.

Max, dood, do you dread Mondays the way our people do?

Okay, rando question, I like that. No, I don’t. Monday is the start of the Man’s weekend, which means I have an extra person to pester for a couple of days. Since it’s the start of his weekend, it’s also the start of mine, since the Woman and I work around his schedule. My Monday is actually Thursday or Friday, when he goes back to work.

I mean, the Woman and I actually work 7 days a week, but on your weekend—our workweek—we work about 8 hours a day and on our so-called weekend, we only work 4-5.

But Mondays are cool. By Sunday night I usually have this column uploaded, and then it’s naptime until I have an idea and take it to the woman so she can write it down for me.

So for the rest of today, Monday, what are you going to be doing?

Napping, eating, napping, eating… I might watch some TV with the Woman later, and we’re reading a book together, so we might plop down on the bed and do that. And before you mock me, hell, yea, I cuddle up with the Woman for story time. Have you ever tried it? It’s awesome. You don’t have to be read to, just make sure you can see the pages and read right along. We read together on her Kindle, which means I can even swipe to the next page if I finish before she does.

Reading is fundamental, doods. Give it a try.

Got a question for me?
You can leave it in the comments below,
or drop me an email at askmaxmonday@gmail.com.

You can also find me on Facebook.

 

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Category: Ask Max Monday, Featured

About the Author ()

Max the Psycho Kitty is 14 pounds of sleek black and white glory. With an attitude ... and opinions ... on everything. He's a put-upon and under-appreciated domestic feline with an addiction to Kitty Crack and an appetite for Stinky Goodness. A pioneer in the Cat Blogosphere, he began his popular blog "The Psychokitty Speaks Out" in October of 2003. Max is the author of SIX blockbuster hit books, "The Psychokitty Speaks Out: Diary of a Mad Housecat,", its sequel "The Psychokitty Speaks Out: Something of Yours Will Meet a Toothy Death,", "The Rules: A Guide For People Owned By Cats," "Bite Me," "There Once Was a Cat from Nantucket" (a book of poetry), and his new smash hit, "The Emperor of San Francisco [The Wick Chronicles]."

Comments (7)

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  1. Pete Hartley says:

    Questions or no questions we always love the Monday Blog!

  2. Erin the Cat says:

    Dear Max. I love all those cat images that you collected. Do you think I should start collecting cats too? I mean I do the usual collections, Mice, Stamps (on spiders and bugs) and Antique cow creamers, but think maybe I should be branching out… but not squirrels. I did try collecting sparrows once, but the noise and feathers and droppings drove Mrs H mad.

    Yours Erin

  3. Miles Meezer says:

    Max good, I am way sensitive to and it hurts mine feelings when the mom tells at me for stuff, or calls me a crybaby. I bit her leg and she hollered. I punched a hole in her arm with my mighty claws of doom and she cut them. I think that she owes me a huge ham, right?

  4. Miles Meezer says:

    Max good, I am way sensitive to and it hurts mine feelings when the mom tells at me for stuff, or calls me a crybaby. I bit her leg and she hollered. I punched a hole in her arm with my mighty claws of doom and she cut them. I think that she owes me a huge ham, right?

  5. Miles Meezer says:

    Max dood, I am way sensitive to and it hurts mine feelings when the mom tells at me for stuff, or calls me a crybaby. I bit her leg and she hollered. I punched a hole in her arm with my mighty claws of doom and she cut them. I think that she owes me a huge ham, right?

  6. Thanks Max. Plus we guess if the mom focuses on taking the youngest outside, she won’t try it with the rest of us.

  7. Ringo says:

    hey max, how do you work a pity play to get some steak from your peeps? I tried doing sad puppy eyes, but they were unmoved. which makes me think that maybe they shouldn’t be allowed to be cat owners if they aren’t willing to toss me a few bites of steak once a day. ONCE A DAY! That’s all I ask!

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