So I’m pretty sure my cat should give me, like, a parade celebrating my awesomeness or something like that. I had to take him to the vet to have them check the nasty patch of black,icky,crusty nastiness that has decided to appear under his chin. I set aside my freak-out level anxiety, which was trying to convince me that he had some horrible face-eating tumor or something, and took him to the vet Wednesday. This is never a pleasant experience for either one of us, though he seems to think I’m gleefully torturing him just ’cause I enjoy that sort of animal cruelty. Not only did I strain my back carrying his rather substantial rear end from the house to the vet, and get a case of the guilties from listening to his pathetic wailing during the car ride to and from the vet, I also got to put a depressingly large dent in my poor little bank account. It cost me almost a hundred dollars to be informed my cat has CAT ACNE y’all. That’s really a thing. Seriously, they seemed to think I was weird when I asked them if they were making it up. So, they diagnosed his acne crap, gave him a shot in his bahookey for that, looked at his eye, and smeared gookey stuff in there, gave him two prescriptions…and this cost me almost $100. And then the ungrateful little booger-head acted all peeved at me for the rest of the day! How rude, right??? It’s a good thing he’s so dang adorable. In case anyone has forgotten, I really loathe people. Especially people that drag their rotten offspring around the store, pointedly ignoring their screeching and whining and various other tantrum sounds. They just keep on shopping like their brat isn’t behaving like the spawn of satan. For the love of all that is holy people, take your repulsive little crumb-goblin outside! There is no reason to subject innocent bystanders to this sort of torture. I am all for sticking to your guns when you tell a kid no, I really am. But it is not necessary to continue your shopping to prove your point. Just scoop that little beast up and leave the store or, if you absolutely insist on finishing your shopping, lock them in the trunk of the car, then come back in and power shop your way through the rest of your list. Now, I am not encouraging folks to just leave their kid in a trunk and shop till their heart is content, I am just saying that, as long as they were super quick about it, it seems like it should be okay to leave the screamer there for a few minutes. Although, to be fair, this may be yet another example of the thought process that proves it is a good thing I have refrained from reproducing.
Randomosity: I totally got myself one of those big old light up fuzzy animal pillow pal thingies. I think I may be playing the Sims too much lately. Not that I will make any actual attempts to cut back on my Sims time or anything, just making an intelligent observation of how poorly I’ve been utilizing my time lately. Other than a couple of delightful game nights with my fave shopping buddy for life and awesome cousin, Robby, I have managed to become even more of a recluse than I thought I could be, so yay for that! If I could just figure out a way to avoid people all together, I would just be beyond content. The game Robby got me for Christmas, Salt and Burn, is quite fun, even if he has beat me 2 out of 3 games. (He’s so going down next time!) I’m not sure what I’ll name my new light up fuzzy pillow thingy…it’s a pinky purple seal–really quite cute. I’ll have to think about that one for a bit. I’m kind of hungry. I wish I had my very own minion. I am totally not excited about washing all my bedding tomorrow–it takes forever and I have to remake my bed and spend hours hoping against hope that the stupid washing machine won’t get unbalanced or whatever and start banging and clanging, which means I have to go and manhandle the soaking wet bedding and try to even it out or whatever, which just plain sucks. And I should probably vacuum my room again tomorrow. It sucks that they don’t have seasons of Cops on Netflix. I would watch the hell outta that. I suppose I should go rustle up some grub. Gotta roll, mole!