This is the general progression for any time I catsit for longer than a few days.
For the record, I did not actually find any cat journals. All cat journal entries are 57% fictional.
(But not donut holes. Seriously, fuck those. They aren’t holes. The hole is what is left in the donut. They are donut balls. And that’s all I’m going to discuss about balls and holes today, or at least before lunch.)
My dear friend Sasha pointed out that my blog composition has settled into a sort of triangle of topics. And I’m cool with that. It’s just not the topics I thought they would be. Witness:
Once again, the cats have won the internet. Resistance was futile. We’ve all been assimilated. And with that in mind, prepare yourselves for the most recent conversation with Otto, a guest blog from the abovementioned Sasha.
This is for the hordes of underage would-be drinkers who seem to think that:
- They have the best, most winning argument for why I should let them into the bar;
- They are the most trustworthy underage drinkers I will ever meet;
- I am just blindly following an unfair law;
- I’m just being an unsympathetic hardass who doesn’t want them to have a good time.