Shortly after finally coming to terms with the latest proof of our decline as a civilized society (i.e. the comically inevitable Sarah Palin endorsement of Donald Trump), the Internet replaced it with another aggressive story. Without warning, it held me down and raped me with the news of a 20-year-old Norwegian by the name of Nano who believes she was born as a cat in a human’s body. Despite my constant protest, the Internet shoved it into my Facebook news feed, my email, my news websites, and any other hole into which it could force itself. Since it wouldn’t take “no” for an answer when taunting me salaciously with, “hey baby, you wanna see something fucked up” and “you know you like reading shit like this,” headlines, I decided to relax and give in to my assailant so it could blow its story inside of me and go bother someone else.
Now that it’s over, I feel more confused than violated. Don’t think me a whore for sensational media. I still didn’t enjoy it, but unlike other trashy stories shared under the guise of human interest, this one lingers in my head, creating an overwhelming stack of questions I have nowhere to exchange for answers. For example: Does she have a job? If so, what employer saw “Can sleep in sinks and windowsills” on her resume under Special Skills and determined that she was a better fit over a candidate that was proficient in Microsoft Word? Has she been reported to HR for trying to lick her asshole during team meetings? Does she lunch with co-workers, or does she sit alone atop a break room table over a can of Friskies? How strong is her urge to murder? Has she murdered anyone yet?
Speculating aspects of her life more than I should, I was able to deduce a few assumptions such as:
- Since she hates water, she most likely bathes herself with her tongue and therefore reeks of morning breath.
- Because of her mounting therapy bills, her parents have cut her allowance, preventing her from saving up for that body modification surgery she posted on her vision board.
- If you stand outside of her residence long enough, you’ll eventually hear her mother yell, “Will you sit down at the Goddamn dinner table and eat what I fixed you, for Christ’s sake?!” or “Oh for shit’s sake, Nano. Would you get your ass out of the fucking sink so I can brush my teeth? I’m already running late for work.”
- She doesn’t really “speak cat.” I know this because when a reporter asked her to translate, “Come on. Let’s go,” into cat language, she said…
…before pissing some garbage out of her mouth…
…and then glared at the reporter with a pretentious expression that read, “Question my fluency of the feline language one more time, bitch. I dare you,” while hugging an over-sized teddy bear to her stomach. Or who knows. Maybe she was contemplating murder.
Aside from all of the speculations I’ve made about her life, I am mostly fascinated by her relationship with Svein, the guy pictured above and standing to her right. This Kurt Cobain reject has multiple personalities (the article doesn’t make clear whether his disorder is self- or clinically-diagnosed as they skimmed over him like a bible on Kevin Swanson’s pulpit), and one of the personalities is a cat!
Let’s pause for a moment and dwell on the miracle of serendipity where among the billions of people scattered on this planet, a psycho who thinks she’s a cat trapped in a human body can find companionship in a psycho who believes one of his many personalities is a cat.
If you believe anything from this article (and everybody should really question everything they read/hear/watch on the internet), believe that, God damn it all if there really isn’t someone for everyone, even weirdos who were born with a “thing.”