I was ripped from sleep this morning by Mr. T screaming, “Get out of bed, fool!” But when I opened my eyes, all I saw was my cat laying next to my head and licking her rectum. I’m pretty sure she didn’t say it. And not just because her mouth was full.
*squints at Lucy, rubs neck to check for gold chains*
Pretty sure. But just for the record, she would look pretty bad ass with a mohawk.
Also, for the record, I got distracted and Craftastrophated instead of coming up something interesting to write about here. Bad, Elly.
And in only a few hours there will be more strangers traipsing through my apartment, critiquing my cabinet organization and knocking over my vibrator collection. So of course Lucy just made a great production of standing on top of the fireplace mantle and hacking up a giant, cat-food stuffed hairball which, when it hit the hard wood floor three feet below, managed to cover a four foot radius in tuna splatter. It’s probably the result of being possessed by the spirit of Mr. T, poor thing. Now I have to add “exorcise the cat” and “mask smell of warm tuna and bile” to the list of things I have to accomplish before running out the door. (I’m pretty sure Charlie Sheen has those same items on his “to do” list, too.)
Frankly, I already didn’t allocate enough time to sacrifice a live chicken and cover my little zombie St. Joe in avian fluids.
Trying to sell a house is so much frickin’ work.
And these floors aren’t going to vaseline themselves.
Are you still here? Fine then. Um, go look at this. It’s the latest link Creamed Corn sent me. You’ll never look at Barbie the same way again. Just…don’t look at it while you’re eating. You’re welcome.
For some reason, I find depictions of cats coughing up hairballs hilarious.
But the times when it’s actually happened to me, it’s not hilarious at all. Just pretty effing nasty.
I really hate stepping in them while they’re still warm.
Whew. You had me scared there for a moment that there were going to be pcitures of Barbie doing unspeakable acts to the St. Joseph statue.
PS – It’s. Mandinka, not a Mohawk Foo!
Do you think that would make him work harder? I’ll try ANYTHING.
While it isn’t possible for Mr. T himself to possess your cat, the ghost of his career & fame is a strong one.
Aw. Poor Mr. T. Maybe he should call the Donald.
I’ve always wondered why the Carbonited Han Solo prop was so incredibly lame and cheesy when Star Wars apparently spent a gazillion bucks on special effects?
I’ve always wondered why I find Jabba the Hut sexy. Ok I’ve never wondered that. Probably.
You know what I noticed about the Barbie photos? Barbie has great tastes in kitchen wares. She has a bitchin’ ceramic knife! I knew those things slice through a lot of things like butter but didn’t realize they work on neck bones as well. Food for thought.
…and it’s still sharp enough to slice a tomato! Now how much would you pay?!?!
Ah. And, since your house is on display and therefore is PERFORMING, I will say to your house, BREAK A LEG!
Not only can cats be possessed by the living, they can be possessed by inanimate objects, TV Hitler documentaries, and the thought of Justin Bieber’s new haircut. In other words, anything.
You know I always suspected Barbie was a bat shit crazy serial killer. She does have crazy eyes going on. Though what do you expect when her boyfriend has only a amorphus lump for genitalia? The girl needs to get some.
Been there, done….wait…what?
Totally better than waking up to my biscuits and gravy fiasco.
Rectum! Damn near killed ’em.
this really made me smile. i wonder if my cat is the reason i often think i hear my granny telling me i should vacuum more?
Don’t trust granny. Vacuuming is evil. The ghost of my granny always says, “That would be better with some fat back.”
I was eating.
Please tell me it was tuna casserole.
I will buy your possessed-by-Mr.T-cat-spunked house. It’s $5, yes? No? Um, I’ll get back to you.
Gimme another month and I just might sell it for that.
am i only the one who wants to see barbie v. charlie sheen in the ring? the roller derby rink? on iron chef? i love these kids.
I have something special that’ll make you happy later today.
Maybe Mildred was possessed by Mr. T in a “Being John Malkovitch” kind of way. It’s possible, I think.
And Elly, I really don’t see why that’s a Craftastrophe. Seriously.
Me either. They’ve got a “not a craftastrophe but cool enough to rate high” category. I think it’s the shiz. For cereal.
Ok so first of all I am eating tuna right now from a bowl like a cat would so I am getting the whole sensorial experience.
Second. I love Killer Barbie. She is hysterical.
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