Like I said previously, we have a stray cat that lives here on 187 The Cottage. Sadly, that cat will live here for ever, as I don't have the time to kill it nine times.
So, instead of going ape on this feline, I'm basking in its glory.
How, just how, have I done this?
Well, for starters, I've taken some time recently to watch this little pussy scratching itself, slashing trash bags in our dumpster and protecting my house, under armour style.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, ever happens during this time of significance, but I have taken the whole experience as watching those stupid Animal Planet shows. I have, in my brain and to a very small extent, become a zoologist -- save the hot wife and education and the money and the house on hill, splashing cash like I wrote Thriller.
In my amatueric observations, I've noticed that pussy can jump. Get these things on the court with some human hands, 80's style short-shorts and a pair of slick-ass Converse All-Stars and we're talking back-to-back-to-back AAU titles Tom Emansky-style.
I figured the cat jumped a good four and a half feet or the height of my dumpster, which is about a foot more verticle leap tha that of Kobe Bryant. And we call Kobe a great athlete? Please, Garfield would be dropping triple-doubles every night if he had real hands; 10 points, 10 blocks and 10 cat turds all over your face!
So I say screw Kobe, screw Air-Bud, screw Jordan wearing the 45. There's a new pussy in town, and it sells.
Tough question:
Why is it "you're full of bologna?" We couldn't find a better deli meat to pick from?
Other things I learned today, that quite frankly, nobody gives a shit about:
1. If I sing alternative lyrics to songs that incorporate somebody's name that's around me, ultimately, nobody will know I really don't know the lyrics to any songs.
2. The last two things you want to hear a cook say are, "Oops" and "I remember you, you're the asshole that delivers my mail."
3. You should never invest your time in a 4-hour pitch game. That kind of time is invested for Risk and Risk only.
4. I used to weigh eight pounds.
5. The newspaper business is treading water in a puddle.
6. I have no idea what to do with the remaining five percent of my last three bars of soap.
7. My apartment didn't have a smell before I cleaned, now it smells worse.
So, instead of going ape on this feline, I'm basking in its glory.
How, just how, have I done this?
Well, for starters, I've taken some time recently to watch this little pussy scratching itself, slashing trash bags in our dumpster and protecting my house, under armour style.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, ever happens during this time of significance, but I have taken the whole experience as watching those stupid Animal Planet shows. I have, in my brain and to a very small extent, become a zoologist -- save the hot wife and education and the money and the house on hill, splashing cash like I wrote Thriller.
In my amatueric observations, I've noticed that pussy can jump. Get these things on the court with some human hands, 80's style short-shorts and a pair of slick-ass Converse All-Stars and we're talking back-to-back-to-back AAU titles Tom Emansky-style.
I figured the cat jumped a good four and a half feet or the height of my dumpster, which is about a foot more verticle leap tha that of Kobe Bryant. And we call Kobe a great athlete? Please, Garfield would be dropping triple-doubles every night if he had real hands; 10 points, 10 blocks and 10 cat turds all over your face!
So I say screw Kobe, screw Air-Bud, screw Jordan wearing the 45. There's a new pussy in town, and it sells.
Tough question:
Why is it "you're full of bologna?" We couldn't find a better deli meat to pick from?
Other things I learned today, that quite frankly, nobody gives a shit about:
1. If I sing alternative lyrics to songs that incorporate somebody's name that's around me, ultimately, nobody will know I really don't know the lyrics to any songs.
2. The last two things you want to hear a cook say are, "Oops" and "I remember you, you're the asshole that delivers my mail."
3. You should never invest your time in a 4-hour pitch game. That kind of time is invested for Risk and Risk only.
4. I used to weigh eight pounds.
5. The newspaper business is treading water in a puddle.
6. I have no idea what to do with the remaining five percent of my last three bars of soap.
7. My apartment didn't have a smell before I cleaned, now it smells worse.
3 comments:
you should make a small bar of soap by combining the small remainders of the other bars. creative and useful. ;)
tried and in the past it's been successful, but what do you do when they're two different kinds of soap? can they possibly mate?
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/29672116?GT1=43001
You could always play this trick on someone. I think it would be pretty funny if you did it to someone with allergies and they were just walking around for days sneezing and never knowing why.
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