Thursday, September 17, 2009

hat trick




"izzit time?", the bastard follows up with. you see every distressed utterance from my ladyfriend may mean it's go time.


"home invasion?, aliens have landed? who shot who in the what now?"

"kitty pooped on the floor"

"god dammit."

now the bastard was never really cat person to begin with but, it's stuff like this that clinches it for me sometimes. i had another 40 minutes of unconsciousness coming to me and poops mcgee here has trashed that.

i mean i'm all upons now. when my ladyfriend is distressed, i think it's go time. baby's on the way. time to grab the bags and head up to the hospital. i don't enjoy my bastard sleep getting interupted.

so we clean up the crap. settle down to enjoy 30 minutes of quietude and the little shit machine jumps up on the bed and starts pissing on the bed.

and it's all i can do to not fling this old ass creature out the window.

really. it was harder work to just start yelling than to toss this beast out the window




so after a stern talking to, and some sheets in the hamper, i feed this jerk who i have ceased calling by his name. i just scowl and call him "cat" the way i'd call someone "jerk".

and i settle down for what could only be phoning in 20 minutes of unwind. this creature irks me. sure my pet craps all over his floor but he's in a frikkin' tank.

at least food will keep him from any more morning theatrics.

but, i'm wrong. apparently an 18 year old cat doesn't do scoldings well. so he throws up his breakfast.


i look at the ceiling and say, to the fates, "i didn't need the sleep anyway; go to hell"

so mess cleaned up, i go to work, and after 3 cups of coffee, the bastard still feels like this

i'm kind of hoping that this isn't the bellweather for the day.

carpenter is coming in to finish some crap for the apartment. my ladyfriend and i are making a go at trying to raise a baby in 455 sqare feet so, we're working some furniture solutions. problem is this guy's bush league too.

it never ends.

hopefully, this'll be it. touch wood. the accountant is coming in for a visit. the mofo is picking her up from the airport so we can all have some family time. and by family time, the bastard means be irish. slanche, ye pogues mahone.

—the bastard


Rob S. said...

One of my goals in life for a long while, was to live by this creed: "To be free of the poop of others."

That went out the door with the second batch of ferrets. I don't even nearly throw up when I clean it up now.

bastard central said...

well, you have to take the poop with the bad

Rob S. said...

Ya take the poop,
ya take the bad,
Ya take a shit,
and then you have
the facts of life!

bastard central said...

that's just awful