I really wish I could stop watchin the
He's being impeached because he "tried to help the families of Illinois".
Oh, of course. It had nothing at all to do with tryin to sell a fuckin Senate seat to the highest bidder. No, uh uh. Fuckin wingding.
Jeeezus H. Keerist on a crutch. Nero fiddles while Rome burns. He makes me be ashamed to be an Illinoisian.
Work has whipped my fat ass this week. I'm just gonna say...there's some really mean, sad streets out there. And they ain't all in the 'hood. I came home today, went right to bed and took a two-hour nap. When I'm asleep, I don't hafta think...ya know?
I love my cats. I really do. But sometimes it's like havin a pair of two-year old toddlers in the house. Every time I come in with bags...from the grocery store or from shoppin or whatever...they're all over 'em. "Ooooo! Whatcha got here? Is that chicken? Oh! I think there's a new jug of cat litter...Whoopee! Did you buy another new sweater? Wait. Is that the kinda cat chow we like or did ya buy that crappy kind again? Mmmmmmm...this plastic bag is yummy. I love the way it wads up in my intenstines and makes me puke like a volcano! Wait! Lemme help ya put those paper towels away."
And speakin of new sweaters, this morning...just as I was gettin ready to walk out the door...Stewie (the one with the plastic bag addiction)...yakked up an enormous, cat chow-crusted hairball on my fuckin brand-new sweater from
I wonder if he'd survive as an outside cat?
Ya know when you're readin a blog and ya just happen to have a mouthful of coffee or Diet Coke or water and ya read somethin that's soooo fuckin funny that it makes said liquid shoot out yer nose and all over yer keyboard? Doncha hate it when that happens?
I...well, with da Zigster's help, anyway...have created a brand-spankin new blog award...
I'll soon be bestowing said award...in a spiffy, small, sidebar-doodad-size...to those spew-worthy posts.
Hit those keyboards and make me spew, peeps!
I think I'm finally on the downside of my current affliction of epizootic. I've sucked up my last bottle of Ny-Quil and I'm no longer using Puffs at the speed of sound.
Paranoia, "Pammy" be thy name.
Da Zigster and I applied for our FOID cards several months ago...at the same time...in the same friggin envelope, fer chrissake. We've both had 'em before, but let 'em expire.
He got his probably a month and a half ago. I still haven't gotten mine.
Wait...was that a black helicopter that I just saw fly overhead??