The Hairless Pussy

There are certain things I have decided not to blog about. Boundaries I have set to help maintain my privacy and ensure that you, dear internet, do not think I am the world's biggest bozo. Things like the fact I bought a brand new digital camera about a month ago, and have yet to hook it up to my precious computer, because, well, I don't know how. And if I ask my darling hubs, he'll laugh his ass off all the way to the silly shack. I have decided not to blog about the general state of affairs between me and my mommy. Too damn depressing. Or the fact that my hub's family is just about as screwed up as my own. Isn't every family fvcked beyond redemption anyhow? I try not to blog about the overwhelming lack of support my family has showered upon my husband, kids and I since our angelboy flew away. It's hard to see through the tears and type at the same time.

I try not to blog bad things about my kids. Things like the fact both my kids resemble Bucky the Beaver and are going to cost me more in orthodontia equipment than my mortgage did. It's not their fault they have crooked teeth. Some might point out, that it is mine and my hubs. I try not to complain about the staggering amount of rotted apples and bananas my son tends to hide in his closet. The kid doesn't like fruit. But he can be highly creative when it comes to making it disappear. I try to see the bright side of this problem. I try not blog about my daughter's irritating habit of cutting papers into a billion tiny pieces and then scattering them around her room like confetti. Always a party when you're nine, right?

I try hard not to complain about my brilliant and beautiful husband. Because, let's face it, he reads this blog. And he works his ass off every day so that I can bitch about my neighbors. And the only thing he ever asks for is, well, more like offers everday, is his peckercillin. Really, what more could I ask for?

But when I found this cartoon, I could hold off no longer. You see dear internet, for the past two months I have been busting my ass working at a local greenhouse. The owner is a friend of mine who believes in plant therapy. She thinks if I get my arse off the couch, and stop staring at the computer screen, my grief will diminish. And she was sort of right. My grief hasn't diminished, but my ability to cope has increased. And I have lost ten pounds and gained girly biceps along the way. So it is all good, right?

Wrong. I have discovered my love of flowers in no way overpowers my hatred of manual labour. But why blog about it? Doesn't everyone hate their jobs? And at the end of May, I no longer am employed. I will be free to lounge in my pool and pluck my weeds. So I have deferred from blogging about my job.

But this cartoon, makes it impossible to say no. I MUST blog. You see, the greenhouse is ruled by several four legged creatures. A dog who is deaf, hates kids and tries to bite the wind. But he is cute, he likes me and he eats my apple cores, so I'll leave Winston alone. Then there are the cats. Mr. Burns and Smithers, who are a little fat, and do nothing but purr all day. We also have Maverick who has an affinity for mousing and then leaving the carcasses where I continually crunch them. Lovely but normal.

But then there is the cat from hell, aptly named Hobbes. This cat stalks me, terrorizes me and plays mind games with me. He sits on the flowers I am trying to transplant and he thinks my arms are meat bones for him to chew on. I have so many cuts, and scratches from that damn cat that when I see him on the driveway I wish I was in my car so I could mow him down. Hobbes had matted, long orange fur which he would perpetually choke up in a nice hair ball and deposit it where I could see it.

Not anymore, dear internet. The damned pussy tat was shaved. And a funnier site I have never seen. Now everytime I dodge his swiping paws or jump to avoid being bitten, I just laugh and walk away. Hard to be mad at a hairless kitty. And it really pisses him off.

Hee hee. Revenge is sweet Hobbes. Next time, you'll think twice about who you sink your little claws into.

***I can't wait to see how many perverts visit my blog when they Google hairless pussy. Sorry to disappoint you dudes, but perhaps you should get your mind out of the gutter. ***