Monday, July 25, 2011

My Kitten is Trying to Build a Meth Lab in My Apartment

This is Gracie.  She looks innocent (actually, she looks kind of drunk here), but she's not.  

This is Heisenberg.  He runs a meth lab.  He is Gracie's hero.

I can't believe I didn't know before now, but I guess I was too caught up with first, finding a job, and then, working at that job to notice that Gracie had a problem.  I guess staying home sick was a blessing.  I was lying in bed, and I noticed that Gracie kept trying, over and over again, to steal my decongestants.  Why would a cat want decongestants?  She didn't have a cold.  I had a cold.  But then it dawned on me.  What do you use decongestants for when you don't have a cold?  You use them to make meth.  My cat is a meth addict, y'all.  My cat is trying to build a meth lab in my apartment.  And, even though the managers were totally cool about me having cats, I don't think they'd be cool with me having a cat-built meth lab.  I think I'd definitely get kicked out for that. 

So I've been trying to talk to Gracie about the dangers of meth and what it will do to her pretty face and how if she keeps using she'll end up having sex with losers just to get her next high, but she just looked at me and then went over to her kitty cube and pushed it across the floor.  I can't get through to her.  I also tried to upload her picture to one of those little pages that shows your face on drugs (sort of like the one that will make you into a zombie), but they kept saying they couldn't find a face.  She totally has a face, though!  It's just a cat face.  So I tried to photoshop a meth face on her, but I'm not too good at photoshop.

If anyone has any way of getting through to an angry kitten who's in denial, tell me.

Sunday, July 24, 2011


I wrote this in my journal a couple of nights ago when I was very sick, but could not sleep because decongestants make me jittery.  I'm getting over my cold now, but my blog for the next couple of entries will all be about thoughts I had while I was slowly dying (I thought) alone in my apartment of the worst cold ever.

My nose is stuffed. My ears are clogged.  My throat is sore. My lips are chapped, and I have two giant pimples on my chin having a contest to see which can get the biggest and reddest the fastest.

I've missed three days of word at my brand new job.  Ants have conquered and colonized my apartment.  There is a fungus growing in my tub that I'm having second thoughts about cleaning because I'm starting to feel we have a personal relationship.

The clean laundry is piled up in the bedroom.  The dirty laundry is piled up in the bedroom.  The cats are using both for beds.  The sheets are washed but are not on my bed.  The bed is covered with mail and bills.  The bills are unpaid.

I am unpaid until I get over this blasted cold and get back to work.