Playful, elegant, and not above the judicious use of the word “shit."

Would sir desire a rash?

I’ve recently posted a few pictures of various cats on my Instagram feed, and people are like WOMAN, HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND? Ya’ll, I may be batshit insane, but I’m not bat-fucking-shit insane. One, I’m super allergic to cats (my eyes get so puffy that they almost swell shut), and two, drama seeks me out. I do not need some crazy laser-chasing animal to up the wow factor in my life.

The one in the upper left is Rasta, one of my friend Stacia’s cats. The one in the upper right is Tosh, and he belongs to my accountant. I got to see Cami’s cat Fille yesterday, but she’s way too quick for me to get a good iPhone shot so she hasn’t made it to my Instagram feed yet. Also, it’s good I visited the two of them because I was starting to have bat-fucking-shit insane thoughts about how much I really love the wacky personalities of cats and then I saw Fille’s litter box.

Nuh-uh. No way. Never. Not in a million years. You have got to be kidding me.

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