Well, actually, I don't hate all cats, but I'm wasn't too happy that Munch let one loose in my apartment. Yes, he finally figured out that I put the first rabbit in his, and he wants me to re-home it. Anybody want a bunny with an attitude problem?
The cat is worse - I got in late, and the bastard is sitting on my commode. You heard me. Yes, I mean the cat, not Munch. It's looking
at me like I'm the trespasser, and it glared so hard I backed off. He didn't flush, either, which I don't know about you, but I find that nasty.
I called Munch, because who else would do it? He said that was a great idea - he was inspired by the sign he puts up every Valentine's day: it actually says "I Hate Kids and Cats." He took it one better, too. Seems he called my girlfriend and talked about how lonely I get, and how I really should get a pet, so she
was the one who picked out the damn thing, and he just let it loose on my stuff. Apparently, that's my valentine's day surprise and I either have to keep it or figure out how to squirm out of it. John Munch is made of pure evil.
Also, I'm worried this is a segueway to the kid conversation.
I'm okay with other people's kids, but let's not make the leap that I want any. As far as I'm concerned, they're more high-maintenance pets than skunks, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't want me to tell her to check my vasectomy scar.
I told her anyone who doesn't come up to my knees doesn't come into my house, and she just laughed. I think I'm gonna wear the "I love Porn" t-shirt Carolyn bought me just to prove my point if she makes me go to that family dinner she keeps threatening me with.
On the other hand, maybe she'll stop trying to get me to vist her nieces and nephews after she sees that I let the cat have beer. (He's a selfish critter, too - bogarted my last Guiness.)
And I still have no good plans for Valentines. Well, I still have a few hours.