Today is the first beach day of the year, and my STUPID FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT CATS are doing everything within their little evil furry powers to stop me from going. I awoke this morning and went to put my bathing suit on… only to find that not only had it been peed on, but it had been ripped up. Lard Ass is really OCD about covering up his excretions, only he doesn’t really get the concept. He’ll pee in the cat box and then go scratch at the ceiling of the cat box, some newspapers in the kitchen, my laundry, the couch pillows, anything until I throw something at him and make him stop. So no bathing suit. No biggie. It was kind of an ugly one anyway. I didn’t want a slutty bathing suit and the only non-slutty ones they had at Target when Moth was insisting she buy me one last post-Christmas sale season were for fat old ladies. This one boasted that it made you look skinnier than any other suit. Unfortunately, it was really saggy in the boob area because large people who want to look slender invariably have a way bigger rack than I do.
Now I’m going to have to buy a new bathing suit, which I hate more than almost anything on earth (shoe shopping is still a more odious task– I think this hatred is linked to the non-girly gene that prevents me from ever getting a date with non-schizophrenics).
But wait! I have 2 cats! What could adorable little Jarvis do to prevent my beach going? Well, he’s been nesting on my towel shelf, so there is a 3-inch layer of cat hair on my beach towel. Unless I want to look like an orange and white Sasquatch when I get out of the water, I’m going to have to find other towel arrangements.
When I get back from the ocean, I’m gonna take both bitchez to the Wok n’ Roll Chinese restaurant and have them turned into a nice plate of General Gao’s Chicken. Then perhaps I will make a new bathing suit out of their pelts.