This site is a testament to not only my life but to the insanity of society. Dive into Psycho Carnival and you'll find tragicomic personal stories, wild yet honest rants, a little depravity, videos and a buttload of other goodies.

This site also contains adult like humor and ideas that could make you think. Consider yourself warned!

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Days of Intensity and Leisure

That's right. I'm taking a brief goddamn break from my 5 QUESTIONS series. What's it to ya, buster?

Don't work yourself up in a soapy lather about it, unless you're a hot chick, naked and covered with said lather and you send me photos of ya. I have several more bloggers lined up, with their answers turned in, already, that will be featured after this post. Stay tuned!

Around a week ago, my buddy, Steve and I took a drive to a place called Bon El. Before we got out on the road towards Bon El, Steve was talking the area up as if it were some sort of mecca.

Before he mentioned it, I had never heard of the place.

"Oh, you have to see this place," he said, "It's beautiful."

Now I've known Steve for about, eh, twenty five years. So, we've been friends for awhile. We've been to quite a few outdoorsy places that has some pretty terrific scenic views. Places down in Kentucky, around and in the Red River Gorge, for instance. Red River Gorge is a large part of the Daniel Boone National Forest. The Gorge, a heavily wooded area with dozens of trails, has some fantastic spots, overlooking creeks, wild rock formations, a river and natural rock bridges.

Steve, another friend, his German Shepherd and I camped out on the edge of a cliff during one adventure at The Gorge. The place is a lot of fun with much to see and do. Check out the link above if you're interested.

My point is: If Steve says there is a outdoor spot he thinks is worth checking out, I'm usually on board with the idea.

Steve was driving. He said he knew the way there because he had been there several times before. So, with a drink in one hand and a bag full of sandwiches, we drove to what turned out to be a very secluded spot out in the country, where the hillbillies flourished and the pot plants grown by the residents could easily be smelled. Unfortunately, I did not see any such plants. But I did see hillbillies and loads of trailer trash. Some folks had teeth. Some, not. Some good ol' boys had pick up trucks. Some had the stereotypical broken down cars on blocks. Jeff Foxworthy would have a lot of material for his comedy routine if he ever visited the place.

Not quite as bad as a scene from the movie, "Deliverance" but it wasn't the kind of place you would wish your car would break down.

Which is kinda funny, by the way, because Steve said that there was a slim chance the steering on his car might go out, due to some damaged tie rods, according to what a mechanic was telling him the day before. He told me this about halfway through the drive of the heavily wooded area.
I laughed and said, nervously, "I really don't feel like being gang-raped by hillbillies and forced to squeal like a pig today."

On the way through the curvy, sometimes crumbling road, we stopped very briefly at this metal archway that stood at the beginning of another road. The roundish archway had the letters KKK stretching from left to right and some other wording I couldn't make out. I didn't want to get out of the car to go read it, either. Steve said, "That road leads to where the Klu Klux Klan holds their meetings."

I was slightly shocked and asked, "No shit?"

I thought the KKK had completely disappeared from around here. He agreed that it was fucked up that they were still in existence, especially not that far from home.

He nodded and assured me that the KKK really did have their white-robed, white supremacy loving, minority hating, moronic ceremonies down there at nights. I said, "Let's keep moving, man." I didn't want to take any chances with the Klan, either. To me, they're a bunch of narrow minded, violent nut cases that deserve to have 6 foot burning crosses rammed up their asses.

We quickly moved on.

Some time after that, we reached Bon El. It was, indeed, beautiful. Water ran in wild and curvy paths over a creek bed. Just beyond it, on the same road, was a long, graffiti covered tunnel that had been built during The Great Depression. Over the tunnel was a working, running railroad track. Around the tunnel was solid dirt and rock.

This picture gives you a tiny bit of an idea of what it looked like like. It's not an actual picture of the place. And it really doesn't do it justice in how it looks and feels. The feeling you get from experiencing the scene is one of quiet serenity. You are very much at peace when you go there. There's just something about it.

As we're driving back home, to civilization, Steve asks me what I thought of that beautiful spot in the middle of nowhere. I responded, "It's hard to describe. It's surreal. Very quiet and serene. And beautiful. But I wouldn't want to end up there in the middle of the night." He looked at me, in all seriousness and said that was almost the same description that everyone gave him whenever they spoke of that very specific area.

Even though the trek leading to Bon El was slightly unnerving, I'm pleased we went there. It was cool, man, cool. And I really needed the feeling of peace after what had happened the day before.

I had a traumatic experience the day before, with my eldest cat, Mufasa. She's a fourteen year old, long-haired calico who we treat like our own baby. Hell, we have several professionally photographed pictures of her hanging off our walls. That's how nuts we are about our cats.

Anyway, after giving her a bath, which causes a bit of stress for her, especially when my wife sticks her gloved soapy hand in her crack for a good scrubbing (Mufasa can't lick her poopy butt back there because she's a waddling chubby blob of fur), my wife notices a couple knots in Mufasa's fur around her neck. Knots that she later tries to brush out with a small wire cat comb but she can't. They're too fucking matted.

So... She wants me to cut the knots out with a pair of scissors.

As for the bath, that routine usually goes something like this: The cat, while getting bathed, makes the damnedest noise, between all of the hissing and acting as if she's going to bite off a finger from the one holding her at her front (which would be me) and she seems to be possessed by the devil. But then, I supposed anyone who was getting that treatment would behave the same way.

When it comes to cutting the knots out Mufasa's fur, I'm usually quite careful not to cut into her skin. I thought I had been just as careful this time, but obviously, that wasn't the case. Somehow, I managed to get some of her neck skin between the scissor blades. Then she began bleeding and the wound opened a little more. I was freaking out. My wife was screaming at me. The familiar old panic of my stress disorder seized me and I just stood there, horrified. Moments passed before I became coherent, went to the room next door and pounded my fist on the wall. Then with a little strength and resolve, I rushed back into the bathroom and asked my wife to lay her on the bed and continue petting her. She quickly did as I asked. Then I got the rubbing alcohol and antibiotic cream from the cabinet and applied both of them directly to my cat's wound.

Mufasa continued to bleed for the next ten minutes. My wife and I were sick about it, thinking she might die. I was also having my own deep, troubled thoughts, thoughts of the helplessness I felt when mom passed away. I think that might be why I can't take stress or shocking situations any longer. There's a connection there. While it's happening, it feels like I'm under a spell.

Unfortunately, all the veterinary offices were closed that day. I called our main one and gave them the story of what happened on their answering machine and that I would call again as soon as they opened in the morning. The only hope we had was that the bleeding had finally stopped.

In the end, we took her to the vet's office the next day. We had to leave her to be sedated and stitched up. When we picked Mufasa back up four hours later, our veterinarian made an odd joke about the whole ordeal that I couldn't understand (still can't) and was frankly, stunned by. I guess he noticed the expression on my face and said that he had accidentally done the same thing with his own cat while trying to cut a knot out. He said it's easy to do, especially when they're long-haired and the matted clumps are so thick that you don't know where the hair ends and the skin begins.

The vet had put four stitches into her neck, closing the dime sized wound. Our cat is doing fine now, obviously healing and is quietly purring and sleeping in the chair next to me. The baby has been repaired. All is well now and I am at peace. Hope you are in the same frame of mind.

Take care, everyone.


Gucci Mama said...

Sounds fabulous. Not the cat thing, the nature walk thing. The cat thing doesn't sound fabulous at all.

The Wolf said...

Trying to kill your cat eh Kelly. Sounds like a good trip out into nature, I'm still suprised that the KKK is still around though. You'll have to make you're way up here to the coast some day, there are tonnes of trails and things to see here.

The Wolf said...

Totally unrelated to you're post, I just watched that video by Devo. Fuck those guys are old, catchy song though, makes me want to cruise around in a Trans-am eating Big-Macs in the old styrofoam containers and when I'm done with those greese ball burges I'm going to fill them full of rocks and throw them at children.

Anonymous said...

Kelly... my goodness, friend... I think you need to climb into that tub with the bathing beauty and get yourself some piece... um... I mean... peace.

bazza said...

Kelly this post is so.... well American. Do you know what I mean? I feel like a voyeur looking in on someone's life. The UK just doesn't seem to have that kind of experience. (It does have some great scenery though.)

Crazy Brunette said...

Leave your cat alone asshole!!! LMAO

Kelly said...

Gucci Mama- Yeah, I mostly enjoyed the trip out into the nowhere land of Bon El. But the cat fiasco... not so much.

Kelly said...

The Wolf- Yeah, the cat accident was a horrendous ordeal. Very unexpected. Luckily, I didn't kill her. And yeah, I would like to travel to Canada someday to see the scenery. I've talked to my wife about it time to time. I'm sure there is much to see. I enjoy hiking out into wilderness trails and stuff like that, though I haven't done it for awhile.

I saw Devo playing on the David Letterman show and thought I was having a flashback. This is their first new material in like, 20 years. When they take off their "helmets" or whatever you want to call them, they do show their age. But the important thing is, they're putting out some pretty good music still.

Gee, your McDonalds/rocks/children plan sounds swell. What's next for you? Cutting open a cat? You sick bastard. :-)

Kelly said...

bazza- I think I know what you mean by the "American" comment. I think you're referring to the white trash and KKK part of the story.

Every country has their shameful past and present.

Keep being a voyeur, Bazza. Hahaha.

Kelly said...

Crazy Brunette- Don't worry. I already told my wife that was the last friggin' knot I'm ever going to cut from my cat's fur. For real. :)

Kelly said... Yeah, I think that getting in the tub with her would be quite enjoyable. And give me that "leisurely" feeling. At least until the wife comes home, finds me with her and proceeds to cut off my junk. :-)

klahanie said...

Mr. Kelly-type dude,
You doing a blog on your own site? Now there's a concept lol
Sounds like you and your buddy had a fascinating time at 'Bon Er', sorry, Bon El. Thanks for sharing this.
Really pleased to know that Mufasa is on the mend, now. I know how stressful it was for you, the wife and the cat. Good thing it got sorted out by the 'pussy doctor'. When I say 'pussy doctor', I'm not referring to a 'Gynecologist':-)
Cheers Kelly and here's wishing you and your loved ones, a peaceful and positive weekend.

Kelly said...

klahanie- Eh? "You doing a blog on your own site?" Me no understand meaning of curious inquiry. Eh? But that's okay and fine n' dandy and alrighty doody.

Yeah, Steve and I had a good time there at 'Bon Er', sorry, Bon El. You scoundrel! At least the goal location, at the creek bed, of that day was nice. The journey getting there was a touch wild, due to people living in that area.

Thanks about Mufasa. She would be missed if she were gone. Pussy doctor. Heh heh. Hey, I don't know about you but I could never be a pussy doctor. Looking at all those nasty snatches all day long. god, that would be horrible. I've heard of some Gynecologists almost passing out from the smell of some of those women who don't bother "washing their kitty now then."

I'm not exaggerating on that fact. When women see their pussy doctor put on a mask, it REALLY IS because of the odor emanating from their nasty ass slop holes, er, I mean vaginas.

Yuck and NO THANKS on that having that job!

Peace be with you. Have a great day! Oh, were you eating?

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