As promised, I have decided that today I will bestow upon you all the story that so fascinated and terrified me a few weeks ago. Yes, the one with sex and cats. I sure hope that it lives up to your expectations, because I know you have been fantasizing about what it could possibly be all weekend.
I have a geriatric boyfriend of sorts (this is not the sexual fetish part). A long time regular of the restaurant I worked at in college, and a shorter than average bearded man of about sixty-something, Mr. OB and I often find ourselves dining alone at the same restaurant. We have our declared spots at the bar. We have our usual orders. We both like our wine with a nice cold diet coke on the side. So, in retrospect, we don’t ever actually eat alone. We eat together.
There are a few things you should know about Mr. OB. He always orders the same thing. He “only dates women under forty”. He knows people. He can and will tell you anything and everything there is to know about New Orleans even if you didn’t ask. He can not hear but refuses to get a hearing aid. I assume he thinks this would confirm his age, thus he avoids it. He is also known for something called the champagne bath, which by its name alone should give you an idea where this story is going.
Mr. OB and I share a no-shame attitude in regards to the openness of our conversations. I’m almost certain that it has nothing to do with the bottles of wine. Being that I mainly talk about cats in regular discourse anyway, and he about hot women he has courted, it is to no surprise of mine that the following conversation happened: Read the rest of this entry
[I finally captured Jack (front right), Ace (distant middle), and myself (part of me) all in one oddly angled and slightly blurry photo. Man, why am I even trying to become a writer when I am so obviously a photography prodigy.]
My mind has been trying to wrap itself around a certain obstacle I will eventually have to overcome. I will assume that you have caught on to the fact that I plan to move oodles of miles away when the time is right. I will also proudly say I believe to have determined the general region for my relocation. I’ll elaborate on that a little later. I can’t tell you specifics right now. You already know too much. What I can tell you, is that the region is well over a day’s drive from the
end of the world tip of the boot.
My point? Well, I want you to take a good look at the animals in that picture up there. One of them is a seasoned and serial car pooper/vomiter/demon noise maker. I refuse to take Ace half a mile down the road let alone half way across the country. So, I did a little research to find out just how I would pull off the biggest kitty voyage ever attempted and what tools I would need to get me through it. Let me just put on my cat whispering gear.
What I assumed the solution would be: Fork over a ridiculous amount of money for some extra strength cat roofies and try to explain to hotel staff and onlookers at pit stops why I am waltzing around with two limp balls of fur like it is some sort of fashion statement, all while my cats remain in a coma for two days straight.
What I learned after a good old fashion Google session: Do not roofie your cat(s). Instead, I will follow the plan of action below. Read the rest of this entry
It has been such a busy day that my abilities of being funny, witty or even mildly entertaining are as gone as the five cookies I ate for lunch. I have no regrets. So, yet again, I am going to let the internet do my work for me. Well, internet cats specifically (see next paragraph). I’ve got to stop doing this. I wanted to write about my adventures in drumming today and research some good electric sets, being that it has been almost a month since I have been able to attacked my acoustic. Since I sold it, I am missing it probably as much as everyone misses the old Facebook layout. I am in the market for a decent yet affordable electric set and figured I may luck out and receive some feedback from someone with input on the subject. I feel a little bit like my stress has been lingering in my shoulders lately. Oh yea, that’s because I haven’t been able to come home and beat the shit out of something for an hour every day until I am marginally a little more deaf. Duh. Maybe I will get to that post tomorrow. Read the rest of this entry