Tag Archives: my cat

Some Day I’ll Fuck Her and Then What

7 Jan

This is another post about this person.

Misti.  Well fuck off, I liked her.  She’s a sweetheart.  The date was surprisingly chaste, maddeningly chaste.  But then, what did you expect.  She had been scared of you.  You don’t have to fuck everybody that instant.  You can wait a couple days.   It was… fucking sweet.  It was sweet.  It was fucking romantic, for Christ’s fucking sake.  Long walks on the god damn motherfucking beach.  She revealed after the fact that she’d been wearing a wig.  How would I have known.  She wears the same wig in all of her porns.  She had fifteen of those same fucking wigs laying around.  They ought to name the long straight burgundy colored wig with no bangs after her.  To me, that is just what she looks like.  What the fuck is under there.  Maybe spiders.

Anyway, she was fucking fun and I want to see her again. but– here is the saddest fact in the world.  I could say she’s a a murderous Nazi cunt who kills kids, and I might get the second date.  But it is instant pussy death to type “she was fucking fun and I want to see her again;” somehow, stating interest dries up the vag faster than sawdust spread on a third grader’s puke.  But– fuck off.  You were fun as fuck and I want to see you again.  Eat a dick. Continue reading

Diary 12/30/10: Cat UTI

12 Jul

My poor cat has a urinary tract blockage. My poor Bud. He just squatted in the litterbox for like ten minutes, straining out a niggardly trickle of pee. And he peed on the bathmat recently, unheard of for him, and in fact appeared to have peed just outside the box once before, since the underside of it was all covered in ammonia-smelling cat piss. Which, one of the symptoms of cat urinary tract blockage is they like to piss on a “cool, smooth surface.” This is bad shit. Your cat could die, although, I just picked him up and his abdomen doesn’t appear to be in any pain. So, you know, this isn’t life-threateningly serious. I made an appointment to take him to the vet tomorrow. Who knows. The internet says that shit just goes away sometimes. Continue reading