Short Post Syndrome

Right this very second I would gladly sell these fucking demonspawn cats to anyone who'd like to put in a bid. It's like I come home and they want to impress mommy with their crazy mad skills. Skills that involve rolling down the hallway, head over tail, into every single object that's NOT locked down via titanium chain. And the water bowl? God forbid we leave it in one spot. No, let's move it across the kitchen floor and then act all perplexed when there is no more water to drink.

Mommy? What happened to my water bowl? And why is there no food in my dish? Mommy? Mommy? Why? Mommy? Who is that strange man with the leather bomber jacket? And why does he have that weird sharp pointing thing? Why is he trying to stab me with the pointing thing? Why Momlhweohjpwhhwkj................

In other news, I bought a picnic basket from Wal-Mart today because I totally needed it and it was at the Always Low Price and all. Why I would need a picnic basket, I'm not quite sure. But I'm sure it will come in handy when I have to transport my demonspawn to their new home under the wheels of a fast moving vehicle.

I'm also very hungry and the prospect of eating some seriously questionable eggs or a package of tuna is not at all inviting. I did try to buy bread at the Wal-Mart but all they had were weird flavored bagels-- because I prefer the bagels over sliced bread you see-- and I couldn't bear to eat a turkey sandwich on cinnamon flavored bagelness. It seemed wrong, somehow. Like eating porkrind flavored cookies or using the same piece of Kleenex twice.