I woke up at 2:53 a.m. today, with a migraine. I attribute this to having gotten up at 5:30 yesterday, to go to damn Purrrrre Barrrrre, and one wonders why I think I need to work out when I already look Like This.
Anyway, my sleep pattern was messed up, which is a migraine trigger, and whatever, I had one, hooo care.
I got out of bed and hunched over to the kitchen, and I feel the need to hunch when I’m not feeling well because my Aunt Kathy always does that when she’s not feeling well, which by the way is around 270 days a year. She’s a professional not-feeling-well-er.
The point is, I took my medication and hunched back to bed, where Edsel and Jodie Foster awaited me, and while I was trying to get back to sleep,
That damn kitten kept booping my face. boop! Oh my god, annoying.
No matter how many times I…gently placed her orange bitch-ass down the bed, and yes, I did want to hurl her with all my might, she kept coming back and
Here is why I’m insane. I kissed her little walnut head before immigrating with my pillow over to the spare bedroom. That damn kitten drove me out of my own bed, into the vast desert of the spare bedroom, and I still had to kiss her.
In the spare bedroom, Steely Dan was lounging across the pillows. Having spent most of my week with Two-Ounce Tillie, up there, all of a sudden his already-enormous self seems even enormous-er, and he also seems this solid paragon of dignity.
I kissed his coconut head and settled in to sleep. When,
That asshole booped me in the face, with all 182 pounds of him.
HE’S NEVER BOOPED ME IN THE FACE EVER BEFORE.
“STEELY DAN,” I said, irritated with the world. He touched his wet cold nose to mine before curling up against me and falling asleep, where as soon as he was unconscious I injected him with lethal gasses.
And I’m sorry all my stories are about cats lately. It’s all I’m surrounded by. I’ve all of a sudden become the old lady with cats.
The other exciting news is I got my roots dyed yesterday, at lunch, which by the way is super relaxing and you’re not over there nervously checking the clock or anything.
We also had a happy hour team thing after work for a particular account I work on, but I already WENT to one for a DIFFERENT account last week, and just now I typed “last” wrong, and my computer autocorrected it to “astroturfing,” like that’s a thing I say just all the time. I think I can honestly say that is the FIRST time I ever said “astroturfing,” so good going, computer. Good smart-ting.
Anyway, I didn’t go. I was exhausted.
Also, I’ve been invited to two things, one on Christmas Eve and one on Christmas Day, and both hosts say, “Don’t bring anything,” and is that true? What do real people do?
Both are married couples, two kids each, except the Xmas Eve couple has two teenage daughters and the other couple has two little kids. Your thoughts, Hobson?
Also, I’m getting together with Jo and Kit on the 27th, and all of a sudden Jo’s all, Oh I got you two the cutest thing and I was all, “WE’RE GETTING EACH OTHER THINGS?”
“Oh, just regift something,” said Jo, as if I have a whole closet of Gifts That Didn’t Work For Me.
Your thoughts, Hobson? Do you wish I’d quit saying that? It’s from Arthur.
The entire time I’ve been writing you, I’ve been scarfing these chocolate-orange-ball Christmas cookies my mother made me, thereby eliminating all of the work I did at Pureé Bar yesterday. Orange you glad I ate chocolate cookies?
I’d better go. I have to shower, and my whole body hurts, and also migraine hangover, plus also my face was booped repeatedly and Dear People Who Don’t Have Cats Who Are Moments From Annoying Me:
It’s when a cat hits your face with a velvety paw, not to inflict pain. It’s really more a claws-in sitch. They just want to play, so they boop boop boop your face over and over again, and you all of a sudden get how someone could abuse an animal.
P.S. Oh, HELL. This is Chunky Cherry, and seriously, Clinique, what’s with all the fat names lately? I have ZERO MAKEUP on again, and I’m SORRY. It’s the MORNING.