or maybe not. this shit hurts, yo.
all i wanted was for the ignorant house-on-wheels living, chef boyardee eating, newport light smoking, white jeans and purple granny panties wearing assholes around the corner to stop dumping a bag of cat food on their sidewalk and allowing the neighborhoods 2873156018347 strays to dine vegas style.
now i have a new dream. i dream that those same individuals, the “responsible humans,” will drown in a sea of pee and liquid poo, after having to stimulate the genitals of orphaned kittens left on the sidewalk by retards who think that putting a tupperware lid full of milk two feet away is enough to get three week old unweaned kittens through christmas in the fucking jungle.
christmas morning, Boy and i go to take pickles out. as this is the first thing we generally do in the mornings, we are still in pajamas. we are casually being pulled around the neighborhood when lo and behold:
i can’t help it. they were raised on the streets of los angeles. they tend to stick together. they might be in a jailhouse gang.
this is where i give a big shout out to los angeles county animal control, who told me that not only would they not come get the kittens, but that if i brought them in, they would be euthanized. it’s nice to see that the lack of compassion here doesn’t just extend to people, and continues with great fervor through the busy holiday season.
and this is where i get in the car (still in my jammies) and get smooshed, which i will not really discuss except to say that immediately following the kerpow i was screeching like a crazy cat lady that the fireman better get the kittens out of the car and are they ok, ohmygodarethekittensallright, ohmygod ohmygod. overall i think i presented myself well, what with the people in kansas hearing my screams and the poor folks in the neighborhood of the smooshing watching my jammie clad self freaking out on the curb. at least i was wearing a bra.
when the car got towed away, some very kind strangers drove all five of use home for a night of fur, fun, and as i would come to know later, fleas.
Boy’s new girlfriend.
make noise and gnash his jaws.
also pina coladas and getting caught in the rain.
the cheat is chubbie.
stupid pet stores are stupid closed on stupid christmas.
in closing, the kittens were way cute and now live in a kitten finishing school until someone adopts them and takes them home to love forever and ever, where as i still live in the fucking ghetto with a limited supply of painkillers and ever increasing pain and bitterness.
that's what i like to call a christmas miracle.