:(

There is a chance that the blog will no longer be an accurate representation of our current roommate situation. If this is the case, the novelty of it will be awash and thus this blog will cease to exist. More to come as more information is relayed to me, as I seem to be in the dark on the "discussion".

~Chico

EFRC

Today, Zatch, Nicki, and I went to the "Exotic Feline Rescue Center" about an hour away from us. It was a fun drive and when we first got there, there was a collective groan of disgust because the parking lot was so muddy and there was a putrid odor lingering in the air. Mainly, the disgust was because we were all wearing nice(r) shoes, a silly thing to do when thinking of this in hindsight.

 Yet, once we got within the compound where the "big cats" resided, it became clear (at least to me) that we were in for a real treat. Majestic tigers and lions, gorgeous cougars and bobcats, and a few leopards here and there. The facility is home to over 220 exotic felines, most of them tigers. Tigers were what we saw the most of but they weren't necessarily the show stealing feature. I'm sure Zatch and Nicki have their favorites, but my personal favorite was the bobcat that slapped my hand through her cage as a snapped a photo of her. While bobcats are not my favorite big cat (tigers are), this cutie left a lasting impression on me. The tigers themselves were stunning, most of them sharing their pens with others, meaning they were introduced to each other at young ages or came to the Rescue Center together from their broken homes. Many of them have personality, some enjoying the attention of people fussing over how beautiful they are. Sophia rolled over for us and then approached the fence, almost as if she wanted to be pet even though such things are prohibited (understandably so... see picture three for an idea as to why). Raja, an awnry male tiger, apparently loves to lure people in with attention seeking sounds only to angrily lash out, perhaps due to the disappointment that visitors lacked food. He was (is) also a notorious sprayer and he attempted to spray us several times as we learned more about his neighboring residents.   

Also part of the tour, and an important aspect of our education, were the back stories of some of the resident felines. Horrid tales of abuse and neglect from people who thought owning a pet tiger, lion, or cougar was like having a car. Many of the felines come to the Rescue Center malnourished and abused. Some are even victims to botched surgeries such as declawing. A cougar named Autumn was one of these victims and it was evident in the way she walked around the paddock, favoring each step ever so slightly. She still maintained her grace, but it was easy to tell that what her owner did had detrimental, lasting effect. There was another declawing that was done by the owner, a person (scum) who had no idea what he was doing and he caused irreparable damage. The lioness Kisa was malnourished because her owner thought it was suitable to feed her cat food as a cub instead of milk, permanently distorting her sense of balance and ability to travel as easily as the others.

Speaking of Kisa (pictured left), she shares her paddock with an unlikely friend, a tiger named Max. While I was unable to snap any pictures of him, he was nearby on top of an impressive-three-tiered jungle gym of sorts, observing us as we crowded around Kisa, learning about her and enjoying her ferocious roaring. We learned that the two share an inseparable friendship, often grooming each other and frolicking. And Max, weighing almost three-hundred pound more than Kisa, dares not get in her space when she is cranky. We learned that she is the boss of the pair and he knows not to mess with her. Men should take note, yes? There were other things mentioned that reinforced my knowledge. For instance, white tigers are not a natural feline. They are manufactured (not like robots... think genetically) by man. Because of this, inbreeding is a pretty big problem and they face some pretty daunting challenges as they mature. I learned that breeders will dispose of ones that are not black and white. Even though the chocolate striped one we encountered today is considered rare, she was discarded because she did not meet the breeder's criteria. Now a question: why are there tiger breeders? For the most part, they are an 'underground' sort of faction and because what they do is so 'gray area', the end result is deformities commonly associated with inbreeding.

Our visit was wonderful. The felines were all beautiful and some were more engaging than others, but every last one of them tugged at my heart-strings. Someone thought they could handle them and they, in the end could not. When they were caught, the penalties were barely a slap on the wrist, even when the neglect and abuse yielded costly results. The men and women of The Exotic Feline Rescue Center deserve praise. They aren't doing what they do for money or fame. They are volunteers, offering their valuable time and energy because they care about these animals. Their involvement isn't glamorous. It is hard work. It isn't thankless though. Beyond the scope of people, like us, who come to see the beautiful cats, they have a large group of exotic felines that are thankful. These are the lucky ones. And many more will find their way to the Rescue Center. There, they will find a home where they have the space to relax and the chance to live abuse-free.

These, folks, are what heroes look like.

(sorry, no pictures)

~Chico                                

Roomate Profile: Chico

Ricky Thomas Rodriguez is my real name whereas Chico is the nickname bestowed upon me by the roommates. It's a little ironic considering chico means boy because I am the oldest one of the group... almost 11 years, to be exact, and I dig the men. I have a gutter mind and it does not take much for me to make something "gay". Sometimes, I worry if my dirty mind and mouth could be trouble but the truth is that I am just a crazy bitch and the perverted banter is just part of that equation: take it or leave it, it really has little effect over me.

Zatch and I have a thing in common and that is our love for horror movies, although I am admittedly more of a movie snob than he is. I prefer originals to remakes and found the "Nightmare on Elm Street" reboot to be a huge pile of doo-doo. Still, it is rare for me to turn away the chance to see a horror flick, remake or not. I enjoy the thrill attached to them.

I love all kinds of music but I lean mostly towards electronica. Techno is only a facet of that style of music and in all honestly, it is not my favorite branch of the electronica tree. I like it rough with pulsating beats and powerful lyrics, if need be. I love pop music as well and I tend to avoid country, though I do have some Cd's, mainly because the country music scene is known to be quite homophobic. See, it does have something in common with the hip Hop scene. Not that the music industry in itself isn't 'bad', it is known to be quite on the side of keeping acts in the closet to prevent dampening of record sales. The whole entertainment arena is actually like this, to varying degrees.

I am an aspiring novelist though my primary focus now is short stories and the occasional foray into poetry. As you may imagine, horror is my focus, and some of it will have an admitted queer twist. Write what you know, right?

Ah. As I write this, Ricky Martin is serenading me in the background. What a silky voice he has. Anyway, this is just a brief introduction to who I am. CHICO!!! That's me!

ICED

We're supposed to get hit by a whopper of a winter storm. The advisory indicated that ice would over-take the roads, that the rain would quickly become snow, and that there would most certainly be wind that has the strength to topple trees and pose a great threat to electrical wires. Yet, it has not hit us that hard yet. Indianapolis has been slammed, yet we have mild icy conditions. It can't be that bad because Ivy Tech and IU have yet to cancel the school day. Of course, IU doesn't do snow days anyway and Ivy Tech gives them for 1 inch of snow... so, yea... do with that what you will. Zatch and I went to Kroger last night to get some things and the store appeared to have been ransacked! The water aisle was nearly naked and the canned goods aisle looked to have taken quite a beating. When the storm comes, it is best to be prepared for the whole month, it seems. Not that there is anything wrong with being prepared, I just find it a little amusing how frantic people get over a winter storm here, especially when Bloomington rarely gets hit by hard shit. Sometimes, yes. Yet, when the weather people are like "OMG! The world is going to end with tonight's blizzard!" they usually mean everywhere else in Indiana except for Bloomington! Northern Indian get 15 inches and we get... rain. That said, yes, we did get 'iced' overnight. No, not "iced" in the way that nearly caused Nighthawk! a heart attack... actual ice. Of course, it appears to be melting as I type this, which could be bad when the temperature decides to drop, which it is supposed to do. No snow yet, though. I'm sure there are many who are sick of the snow but I'm of the school of thought that if it's going to be this cold, there may as well be snow with it to make it all worth it.
-Chico

The Weeks Ahead

Everything feels a little unreal. A little stressful. Almost like I'm in a dream I know I should be waking up from at any moment. Things are a little rocky right now and I know that they would be. But I know in the coming weeks it will all work out. I'll just be patient. Have fun. And remember that I have people who have my back.
- Zatch

I think I almost Killed NIghthawk Last Night

Well that was the plan all along right? Not really. Apparently, we need to be more careful on how we mix our alcoholic beverages. Lesson learned. And as I'm ready for round 2 tonight, hopefully we can avoid a repeat. I'm kinda ready to just let loose and forget about this week and that it ever happened. More negatives than positives for sure. But as I keep my head held high, I look forward to the rest of the weekend. Now who's ready to drink?
- Zatch

"I'll Take Door Number..."

Chico here! Ah, yes, that ever circulating conundrum of making a choice. Today (actually yesterday, but I didn't feel up to going) starts Bloomington's annual gay pride film festival, which I've missed every single year since I've moved here. This year, I bought tickets (and momentarily lost them during my move) and I've vowed to go and take most of it in (Nighthawk! would add a "that's what she said" here) yet the new digs are eagerly awaiting a christening party. This place needs to broke in something proper, y'all! Thus, since I'm being a stick in the mud and insisting on doing my "gay" thing for the entirety of this weekend, the party has been shifted to next weekend WHEN I have two massive papers that are due that following Monday! Not to worry: the festivities will commence as planned and I am planning on getting toasty (drunk could be bad. I get loud when I'm drunk. and touchy. and apparently touchy-feely and sentimental). So, actually, no choice was really made was it. It was all decided well before I wrote out this post: go figure. I've misled you. I'm a bitch like that. I wear that label with a trace amount of pride. Speaking of pride... I got to go get ready for it. I'm thinking of doing something wild to my hair... shit!!! Another dilema! <le sigh>