Cat Hair in my Coffee

Well, after much ado about everything my psychosis lost and my instincts took over.  Yesterday, we brought home our first "child."  His name is Jake and he is a blue ragdoll cat.  He's adorable and scared.  I was ecstatic.  I still am.  The pro's are I love him and he's so cute and loving.  The cons are that there was a cat hair in my coffee this morning.  I thought to myself, "holy shit!  This is the choice I've made for at least 10 years."  There will be cat hair in my life-line until I no longer have a cat.  My psychosomatic symptoms are taking over and making me ask "am I allergic to this new family member because my chest is tight?  Or is it from getting wasted the night before."  Remind me not to get that wasted again for at least another week.  Will that ever change??  Having a "child" makes you think of these things, and yes I'm being dramatic.  I can't be anything else no matter how hard I try.  Still.  I sit.  I think.  ALL day.  EVERY day.  At least now there is someone here to listen and instead of telling me I'm crazy (which I am well aware of) he will look up at me with big blue eyes, purr, and head back to his hiding space.

If you're reading this.....

Just do yourself a favor and check out the band M83.  I can't say enough good things about them!  They're my favorite band, officially, right now.  Right this second.  Start with the album Saturdays=Youth, easily, with track #2 "Kim and Jessie."  Or just buy it and sit and close your eyes or drive and listen to it all the way through.  It will tell you a story, a different one with each playing.  If you hate it, don't tell me.

Who am I to say?

I don't believe laziness should be rewarded.  At all.  Sloth is one of the 7 deadly sins.  I think the false presentation of oneself should be the 8th sin, but I guess it's superficially ( no pun intended )

to all 7 anywhooo.  I suppose all things eventually right themselves, especially the wrongs.  So vague, and not always easily seen, the universe does have an uncanny way of "righting" itself.  It's just a shame we can't always see it, although I wouldn't want people up in my business seeing the universe come down on me when I've been unintentionally asking for it.  

I'm drifting.

The point is, It's not my place to right the wrongs of douchebags, or the equivalent of douchebag behavior.  I want to.  However, my father put it best when I was growing up.

"Dad," I would say "I want that!"  he'd say to me "Well kid, in the words of the Stones, 'You Can't Always Get What You Want.' "  He was right.  I'm not going to stop trying though.

2009 + 30= ch,ch,ch,ch-changes!

Ah, the changes a year brings. " I'll change for no one!" She shouts as she falls over a crack in the sidewalk.  But, the bitch gets up.  The next year re-states to the universe, "I will change for no one!"  as she runs into an innocent bystander on the street.  This year she mutters "I will change for no one?"  a drop of rain falls in her eye and she is temporarily blinded, blinded I say!

Then she stops and thinks....shit, I guess I don't really have a choice, eh?  (She's Canadian)

I'll tell you about 30.  I don't fell or (really) look any older, but there are certain noticable and uncomfortable things happening.  One, my body aches like a bitch!  All those miles have definitely caught up with me.  (Who's with me, dancers?)  The other, and probably the most alarming, is my sudden light-speed hair growth.....Not the hair on my head.  EVERYWHERE ELSE!!  

Everywhere

Everywhere

Everywhere

I suddenly believe in the theory of evolution.  It's a very plausible concept.  My tweezers and razor have become my best friend.  I can't leave home without them, just in case.  My fiance tried to brush a hair from my chin yesterday only to find that it had been rooted and blossomed in my epidermis.  What. the. fuck?   Thank God he's going through this too, only...differently.  It's a funny and endearing thing to find hairs on eachother that don't brush off.  Well, with him a it's a little different, but that's another blog!

I'm terrified for swimsuit season, I have a honeymoon coming up and I'm afraid we're going to have to go to Iceland!  At least Bjork will be there to sing sweet and pingy lulla-bye 's to us as we flap our hairy bodies together with the hopes of creating a young cub.  Now that's a hyperballad.

*DISCLAIMER:  I'm NOT trying to conceive on my honeymoon.