AS QUIET AS TWO GORILLAS, ON PCP, IN A LIBRARY

Have you ever tried to be EXTRA quiet for whatever reason; not to wake up the spouse, baby, dog, whatever, but you just ending up making a SHITLOAD of noise instead?  I came home this morning, unusually early, and realized that my wife and baby weren’t up yet.  Finally, some quiet time to myself.   I went into the bathroom to change into my lounge shorts that were on the floor.  Figuring, while I was there I'd take a piss.  So I took a piss, and being the considerate husband that I am, lowered the toilet rim, which slipped out of my fingers and SLAMMED down onto the toilet making that wincingly loud “PAAAAP!”  I stopped in my tracks, listening for the sounds of rustling in the bedroom, “Phew!” nothing…. good, back to what I was doing.  I start to put on the shorts, thrusting my first leg through while balancing on the other.  The problem was that there was a pool of water on the floor that I couldn’t see because the light was off.  My single balancing leg immediately lost traction on the wet floor and flew out from under me.  I attempted to catch myself but my leg was still tangled in my shorts and I hit the floor and side of the bathtub like a cow dropped from a second story building onto a fruit stand, “PUUH-DOOOM!”  I’m starting to feel like I’m in an original BATMAN TV series episode; BOOM! POW! BLAM!  After busting my ass, I nurse my sore areas while sharply yelping a muffled “Motherfucker!”  Standing up, I hobble my way out of the bathroom and head to the bedroom to put my ear up to the door.  I wanted to see if I could hear the baby crying or rustling without going in.  As I limp over through the dark hallway I trip over a vacuum left out by my Wife and like an amateur pole vaulter I lunge forward, smashing my face directly into the door handle.  The rest of my body hits the middle of the door causing a massive “KA-POOM!” that, within the bedroom, must have sounded like a WWII Nazi bunker getting hit with a 500LB bomb.  I hit it so hard with my face that it knocked the door itself out of alignment with the frame.  My wife jumps out of bed; the baby shit’s itself and starts crying; and cats are flying through the air like Hacky Sacks at a Nirvana concert and I am face down in the carpet with a concussion.  Needless to say, my anticipated quiet time became anything but quiet.  Fuck me, right?

I WISH MY CATS HAD GLAUCOMA

                                                                                 

I have five cats, yes, you heard me…five!  They used to be awesome and my goal was to have six cats so I could say at parties, “I’ve got a half dozen cats.”  Cause if you have five you’re just the crazy cat guy or lady, but if you have a half dozen, now you’re trendy and hip.  So now that I’m getting sick of these little bastards, after 10 years of having them, I don’t know how to get rid of them.  I look at my cats, condescendingly of course as I always do, and they look pretty fuckin’ healthy.  I don’t think they are ever gonna die, hell, they might even out live me at this rate.  They aren’t like outdoor cats that have to struggle to find food and fight other cats for territorial supremacy and mates, living a stressed out life. They are lazy, ungrateful, and spoiled cats each with their own belly fat that sways as they walk.  They look fit as a fiddle.  You’d expect the signs that a house pet is getting old to be, like, glaucoma in both eyes, teeth falling out, fur manging and falling out, limping and in pain, etc.  These fucking cats are doing back flips!  That’s like going to your Grandpa’s house expecting to see a decrepit old man and you walk in on him banging Miss Oklahoma 1999 while flexing in the mirror like Patrick Bateman from American Psycho.  I’m not sure what to do?  I want to smother them with a pillow or drown them or shoot them in their cute little furry fucking faces with a shotgun but I don’t have the heart to do so.  I thought about giving them away but I’m too damn attached to them.  It’d be like giving away your kids, you want to, but you’d feel bad for a little while after the fact.  So now, I’m basically just stuck waiting for them to die.  I find myself sitting on the couch petting them while they purr away on my belly, saying “why won’t just die you little son-of-a-bitch, just die already!”  Why couldn’t I have five gerbils instead?  Their life span is like 2-4 years.  When you’re done sticking them up your ass, just break their neck and throw their little shit covered ass in the trash.  Then get a new one.  I used to go through like 10 a week back in the day.  I’d buy um’ by the bushel.

Side note: A cat’s life span is approximately 12-14 years.  A gerbil’s life span is approximately 2-4 years.  A gerbil’s lifespan in my house … 30 minutes to an hour depending on if he scratches my colon or not.