Category Archives: Tips

Hostess Cat: Death by Rolls

I quit the restaurant job last week. Tuesday was my last day, and yet, strangely, it felt like every other day at the host stand: Painful feet. Boredome. Elicit trips to the busboy closet to stuff rolls in mouth. 20 minutes cursing on the subway platform. You know, hell.

What did I gain from the experience? 5 pounds.

What did I lose? The ability to wear pants.

A Google image search of the word “hostess” basically describes, in pictorial form, what this job entails:

If only they had let me:
a) play with a football at the stand
b) wear a nightgown like the lovely lady to above.

I was there until 2 in the morning, so one would think multi-purpose apparel would be condoned. However, it was not.

I could not sleep when my circadian rhythm said, “SLEEP!”
I could not sit when my lower back said, “GODDAMMIT!”
I could not read when my mind read, “VACANCY.”

WHAT, my friends, are the perks of being a hostess?

(silence in the cyber-sphere)

This cat is flat on her back, and has forsaken the ROLL of hostess. Never again my friends. Never again.

Rosie (the Cat)


1. You know the aphorism, “You are what you eat?” Well it’s true.


tips, a cat’s nip

This cat’s wallet is a fat wallet.

In truth, my wallet’s bulge is a little grotesque. When I try to snap it shut, it pops right open again. Bills are constantly spilling on the floor of bodegas and grocery stores. I find myself bent over in front of cash registers everywhere, apologizing to customers, trying to pull down my skirt so they don’t know what color underwear I am wearing. Maybe, they think I am a drug dealer! But drug dealers would probably shoot their clients if they paid them thirty dollars in 1s.

Having large amounts of petty cash in your wallet is a recipe for overspending on un-necessary items. Here is a illustrative scenario:

I am prowling through the subway at 2 AM after work. I am beat. I slink past one of those little food stands in the subway, with all the brightly colored candy wrappers, and glossy magazine covers, and I realize that the giant wad of $1 dollar bills in my pocket can buy me most of the contents of the candy stand.  Out comes the wallet, and I start counting out the 1 dollar bills…. one, two, three, four…

But really, is all this impermanent distraction going to make me feel better in the long run? NO.

Spending tips is a temporary fix.
I’m a hopeless addict!
Tips are this post-collegiate cat’s nip.


Rosie (the Cat)

Tats 4 Tips

1. Put your money in the bank.

Cat-o’s Tips for Cats on Trips: Never say N.O. to New Orleans

Cat-o the Youngest’s back! with more hedonistic advice –
For adventuresome women who don’t think twice,
About indulging their passions, their vanities & desires
And of luxuries, delicacies, & thrills, never tire.

Last Tuesday I realized I’d lost all my jobs –
From a high paying salary, to needing to rob,
I was tapped out, strapped, in Chapter 11
So I decided I needed a sweet taste of heaven.

I tried eating my remaining money, thinking it might taste of heaven. Note to self: money does not taste "of heaven." It tastes more along the lines of soy sauce, ink and B.O.

What could it be? Possibly jewels?
Too pricey, by far, I needed some rules!
A gourmet meal, a night on the town!
But I was tired of New York, all the running around.

Just as I started to give up all hope
To wallow, and grumble, watch TV and mope,
A friend dropped me a line and planted a seed –
He said, “I know exactly what it is that you need!”

“What?” I asked, sure he’d say something bland –
“Why a vacation of course, to a new foreign land!”
And that’s when it struck me – of course, how handy!
My flier miles would take me someplace warm, someplace sandy!

He told me – “of course – you know – you should come visit me –
In the Bayou, Cresent City, The Big EASY!”
He’d nailed it! Of course – it was the thing to do!
So I redeemed all my miles, packed my bags and flew!

Here I am, flying.

The very next day I was dangling mid air
Over St. Louis in a plane that had cost me no fare.
I was flying 32,000 feet above all my worries,
For five days I was free, with no place to hurry.

Each day and night was precious indeed
I ate oysters, drank beer, went swimming and dreamed.
I hardly used my mind at all –
Spent hours just chatting in a faux southern drawl.

As luck should have it, as soon as I left,
I was offered a job, my worries put to rest.
I flew back today, sad to say goodbye,
Dirty and happy, a bit fatter in size.

To those who hosted me, I send you my love,
You were magnificent hosts, that rose high above
All my expectations, and quite a bit higher,
You’ve refreshed, and delighted, calmed and inspired.

So what’s my advice? I suppose it’s quite clear,
When you’re out of a job, don’t wallow in fear!
Take a vacation, you’re great, you deserve it!
The money will come, so pack your toothbrush and split!


Brief Biography of Cat-o the Youngest:
Cat-o the Youngest, unlike her great forefathers, Cato the Elder and Cato the Younger, is a woman of Grecian influence. She is a hedonistic humorist. To Cato the Elder’s comment: “Grasp the subject, words will follow,” Cat-o the Youngest says: “Feed the subject, in turds we’ll wallow .” While Cato the Younger was a follower of “Stoicism,” Cat-o the Youngest prefers to, “Show-it-to-him!”


This is me driving around New York: I am vaguely alarmed. Vigilant. Fearful of crushing the pedestrians swerving into traffic. Pedestrians that talk into cell phones / eat peanuts / drag their children down the sidewalk – all at the same time. Bicyclists who seem to think it is totally ok to swerve in and out of Broadway traffic and J-bike – a more dangerous form of the J-walk. I wish I had such freedoms. But behind the wheel, a cat feels great responsibility.

You can read the guilt on my face: guilt for being issued a driver’s license in the first place. I remember the day well. The test took place in Yonkers, NY. My coach was a generously proportioned individual in a Dickies onesy, with short, greasy grey hair. I don’t recall whether the person was male or female, but it was of little consequence at the time. This person was not a person, they were a DRIVING INSTRUCTOR. And a nice one at that  – when I did a miserable job trying to parallel park, they taught me how. (Align your passenger-side rearview mirror with the driver’s side rearview mirror of the other vehicle and reverse straight back before hitting a sharp turn, and then straighten out again.) Magic. The whole thing lasted ten minutes, max.


But of course, that had no relation to whether I was a competent driver or not, which I wasn’t. And clearly, the higher license-issuing-powers that be had no idea who I was, because when I got my license in the mail, instead of reading Rose L. duPont Gender: F, it read Rose L. duPont Gender: M. Perhaps the instructor felt it would do me good to go through the world as a male for awhile? Maybe they thought I would have more confidence parallel parking if I identified as a male?Whatever the reason, I accepted it. I didn’t get my license changed for two years. And when I finally sent it in to get corrected, they sent a new one back to me that read:

Rose L. duPont Gender: M.

So I figured, what the hell.

Anyway, for the past eight months or so I’ve been working as a PA on documentary film shoots, and every shoot day, I wake up thinking, “how on earth did I manage to get this job – a job comprised of two of my least favorite things to do in the world:”

1) Driving in New York.

2) Driving in New York.

And yet, and YET, I look so darn cool doing it.

After a few months driving around New York, I’ve learned how to:

1. Flirt parking garage owners into discounts (and yes, even if your license says you’re a male, you can come up with great results.)

2. How to scream nasty insults at unruly pedestrians.

3. How to use the accelerator and the break. And the blinker. And ahhh – the windshield wipers.

Rosie (the Cat)

Morning Menace: Cats Carrying Coffee

Have you ever spilled black coffee on the floor, or some other surface not including your tongue? If you have, you know that “black” coffee isn’t actually black. It’s reddish-brown.

And yes, I am going there:

“BLACK COFFEE” is what is commonly described as a MISNOMER.

(and a thrilling google image search term:)

I am not deeply invested in the way our culture mislabels beverages. I only bring it up because when I spilled my coffee on Tuesday morning,


Tuesday, March 8, 2011, 8:37 AM:

I was wobbling down Lorimer Street on my way to work in a menacing pair of high heels, an up-do, and my roommate’s super trendy, baggy, burnt-chocolate coat, humming along to my fave new artist, OhLand. In my hand, I was carrying a steaming mug of “BLACK” coffee I had been unable to finish at breakfast.

I stomped down the subway staircase with grace, trailing a well dressed young gentleman with an adorable, “German School Boy” look. Mmmm! Life was good.

Apparently, life was TOO good.

As I approached the subway turnstyle, I realized that getting my subway pass out of my wallet was going to be a difficult feat. iPod still blaring, I stuck the mug underneath my arm, and began struggling with every zipper in my bag. Meanwhile, the adorable “German School Boy” was negotiating entry with the turnstyle to my left, but it was not letting him through. He looked my way. OI. He wanted me to move.

“Find your wallet, find your wallet – go – go – go.”

I pretended to concentrate on my bag, when he said something to me. “I’m sorry,” I said (probably too loudly, in an attempt to overcome the deafening music.) When I looked up into his crystal-blue, aryan eyes, I found he wasn’t staring back. He was pointing down, at my coat. Following his slender Germanic finger with my gaze, I found:


reddish-brown fluid gushing from my mid-section!


Or maybe I was spilling the entire contents of my mug on the subway floor.

I looked back at him in panic. I still couldn’t quite hear him, but according to my lip reading skills, it appears he said, “Aw, that sucks,” whilst smiling at me.

Liquid pooled around my feet. Whatever he said, it was definitely coffee, and the boy was definitely cute.

At that moment, my fingers alighted on my subway pass. “Oh Darn!” I said as I swiped through, giggling. “Woops!” I looked back, gave him my cutest “I might be a clutz, but I’m still cute!” smile and dashed for the train.

Maybe he wants to date me?

This Tail is full of Tips:

1. If you use those coffee-carrying mugs, be sure to get the kind with effective tops.

2. German School Boys are perceptive.

3. If you put milk in your coffee, you may avoid calamity.

Rosie (the Cat)


KEY 2 COOL: Beat Boxing for Beginners

Beat Boxing is VERY COOL.

Quite simply, it is a skill all post-collegiate cats should acquire.

Last night, whilst drinking a beer in Boerum Hill, my friend and fellow musician Jon Good let me in on the key to becoming a *sick* beat boxer, and I feel, for the benefit of my audience, that it ought to be shared. It goes something like this:

To create a simple Dub-Step drum line, say:

“boots and cats, and boots and cats, and boots and cats…” over and over again.

Try it!

For a drum that lands on the down beat, Detroit Style, say:

“Pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza, pizza…” over and over again.

Pretty amazing, huh.

On the prowl for “Everyday solutions to life’s most perplexing problems…”
Rosie (The Cat)

Cat-o’s Tips for Cats: Advice worth Caterwauling for!

Cat-o the Youngest, unlike her great forefathers, Cato the Elder and Cato the Younger, is a woman of Grecian influence. She is a hedonistic humorist.

To Cato the Elder’s comment: “Grasp the subject, words will follow,” Cat-o the Youngest says: “Feed the subject, in turds we’ll wallow .” While Cato the Younger was a follower of “Stoicism,” Cat-o the Youngest prefers to, “Show-it-to-him!”

In short, Cat-o is a brilliant fount of information, and serves as an invaluable resource for young lady cats far and wide.

Have a problem? Never fear.
Cat-o’s Tips for Cats is here.

Question 1: Dear Cat-o, I am a high-heel-aholic. When I step onto a subway platform in high heels, my heart skips a beat. My legs look like long stem roses, and crowds recede for me like the Red Sea. I’m positively desperate to find a comfortable pair to wear while navigating the snowy sidewalks of New York. Any tips? – Tipsy, the Cat-o-heel-a-holic.

Dear Tipsy,

The answer’s easy: EasySpirits!
See that snow bank? In these you’ll clear it!
With rubber heels and room for your toes,
You hardly need to put on clothes!

Easy Spirit Boot : Just $50!

Advice worth Caterwauling for!

Cat-o (The Youngest)