Goodbye Hello
Broken hearts in the past have seen me partake in numerous pity parties, weeks of wallowing, and all out depression. Apparently my body is trying something new this time, for outside of my current odd head space, and my one night of drinking, there has been hardly any crying to speak of.
Too busy to think? Denial? My heart's method of self-defense? Who knows? Who cares? I will take it.
Goodbye Kissboy.
Hello Meatball.
What?
WHAT?
GOOD GOD, NO!
ICK!
Must your mind always go immediately to the gutter?
I didn't mean that kind of 'hello'.
I was simply speaking to the mountain of a cat who had just pushed my leg out of the way so he could get under my desk. He likes to sleep on the vent, which results in at least his being warm.
Yes, the roomies brought him indoors for the winter, but not until after a chaotic visit to the vet where he was freed from all his lovely infections and worms. Or at least that is what they tell me. Don't think I haven't been studying that fat white ass on a regular basis. (Again, out of the gutter!) I can deal with a broken heart, but don't ask me to deal with wriggly white ass dropping worms.
Due to His Majesty's presence the rabbit has been moved to the kitchen as it is the only place in the house, outside of our rooms and the bathroom, that has doors. The doors are needed to keep him from becoming kitty food. Ironically, the other two cats are terrified of Mr. Bunny (yes, that IS what they named it), and have been known to run for their lives when in its vicinity. Therefore poor Mr. Bunny has no idea that it should even be afraid of Meatball. And he should be afraid. Very afraid.
Due to my practice teaching, my course work, and working at Coles, I may not be around much for the next two weeks. Which reminds me, I should get ready for the bookstore since this is my first day back.
Hmmm, I wonder if that cute guy still works there? Wait, he was only 18 wasn't he? Damn.
Oh, but wait again.
That would make him 19 now.
Hello rebound.
What?
Good grief, I was kidding.
Sheesh, a gutter mind AND no sense of humor.
Too busy to think? Denial? My heart's method of self-defense? Who knows? Who cares? I will take it.
Goodbye Kissboy.
Hello Meatball.
What?
WHAT?
GOOD GOD, NO!
ICK!
Must your mind always go immediately to the gutter?
I didn't mean that kind of 'hello'.
I was simply speaking to the mountain of a cat who had just pushed my leg out of the way so he could get under my desk. He likes to sleep on the vent, which results in at least his being warm.
Yes, the roomies brought him indoors for the winter, but not until after a chaotic visit to the vet where he was freed from all his lovely infections and worms. Or at least that is what they tell me. Don't think I haven't been studying that fat white ass on a regular basis. (Again, out of the gutter!) I can deal with a broken heart, but don't ask me to deal with wriggly white ass dropping worms.
Due to His Majesty's presence the rabbit has been moved to the kitchen as it is the only place in the house, outside of our rooms and the bathroom, that has doors. The doors are needed to keep him from becoming kitty food. Ironically, the other two cats are terrified of Mr. Bunny (yes, that IS what they named it), and have been known to run for their lives when in its vicinity. Therefore poor Mr. Bunny has no idea that it should even be afraid of Meatball. And he should be afraid. Very afraid.
Due to my practice teaching, my course work, and working at Coles, I may not be around much for the next two weeks. Which reminds me, I should get ready for the bookstore since this is my first day back.
Hmmm, I wonder if that cute guy still works there? Wait, he was only 18 wasn't he? Damn.
Oh, but wait again.
That would make him 19 now.
Hello rebound.
What?
Good grief, I was kidding.
Sheesh, a gutter mind AND no sense of humor.
posted by Butterscotch at 11:00 AM
7 Comments:
Sometimes the gutter ain't a bad place to be, especially if you're nursing a broken heart.
Just wanted to let you know I skimmed this post.
19 is perfectly legal...
Wouldn't you know, the 19 year old got himself fired right before I arrived.
I guess this could be a blessing in disguise...
Is this blog still alive?
Olly Olly Oxen Free!
You can come out now...
Okay okay- I will blog.
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