I Have Become A 'Cat Lady'

Charlie, my cat that I found off the streets is on drugs.  No other explanation could make sense...

Yesterday in the 96 degree heat, I found myself searching store after store for some kitten chow.  Apparently I was the one who caused her to be so sickly with the adult cat food that I was feeding her.  Who knew that kittens off the street needed extra care?  I guess that I looked at her like a crack baby; happy that they had any loving at all.  That doesn't mean that I kicked her around and locked her up in an attic.  I just didn't baby her like I should have.  So yesterday I risked getting heat stroke, walked to the end of the earth and back, to find only adult cat food.  What the fuck?

With no other option (besides slitting my wrists and having her suckle off of them), I get the food.  And how does this broad repay me?  She comes home later that day looking stoned out of her mind!  What the hell type of clique did she find?  Here I am contemplating whether her palate would prefer a salmon or chicken aftertaste and meanwhile she is busy getting jumped into some degenerate cat gang.  I feel like such a punk.  My own cat manipulated me into moving her into a normal home and endlessly supplying her with food.  I was nothing more than a mark for her.  She is eating me out of my cupboards and then sleeping all day.  Her active time?  Late at nite when I'm sleeping, she goes outside and "hangs out with friends".  What's next?  I'm going to find her stealing money out of my wallet?  The goddman TV is going to end up missing?



Belly Or Backshots?

*Just so you know, this is the second time writing this shit.  Blogger decided to erase the first one...

...So um, like I was saying, some shit shouldn't be said.  It just shouldn't.

 Ie:  "When you were on top of me (during intercourse) it felt like I was getting stomped out."  -SSL

Not the nicest thing to say to someone who is 38 weeks pregnant, seeing as though most broads stop having sex when they are in their first and second trimesters.  But, maybe he is taking on the feminine role and being cautious of le bebe.  Quick question.  What the hell did he think was going to happen?  First of all, I gained 40 pounds, all of which are in my belly.  Secondly, the fucking kid is the size of a mini linebacker and just waiting to emerge from the abyss.  And thirdly, it's called BACKSHOTS, dickhead.  But...  I can see where that would pose a problem if you are just not into the person anymore.  In THAT case, just man up and say it and stop wasting my time.  No feelings lost, you know?

This shit is conjured up in my head and the next thing I know, I'm pacing the apartment thinking "crushing your stomach?...  Felt like I was stomping you out?...  What the fuck???  Since when did I gain THAT much weight?"  Then, I realized that my new kitty, Charlie needed the fan on her because she was overheating.  So I bent down, braced myself on the fan to unplug and move it, and the fucking thing collapsed under me while I fell on top of it.  ...All 170 pounds of me.

Jesus Came To My Vaginal Exam

*I'm sweating balls right now.  (And that has nothing to do with my post.  It's just hotter than a witches cizzunt today.  "It's so damn hot.  Milk was a bad choice...") 

Today at the doctor's office I had to have a vaginal exam.  I don't know how people do it, but the last thing that I want to have happen is someone besides my lover fishing around in my vagina.  It's fucking disgusting and although it's a must at the doctor's office when you are 39 weeks pregnant, I'm vehemently against it.  Women always say that after all of the fiddling around in your crotch by tons of doctors when you are pregnant, that you just get "used to it" and it doesn't bother you after a while.  My opinion about these females?  Besides them being HEIFERS, I think that no matter how many doctors examine my vagina, I will NEVER get used to someone that I don't know in my motherfucking crotch.  Who the fuck are these broads anyhow and what back alley block did they grow up on?  It bugs me that guys don't have to go through the same type of invasive body manhandling that I do. 

I'm not a lesbo, so having a female gynecologist is out of the question for me.  I just can't have a female touch ANY part of my crotch.  ...Or boobs.  Because of that, my doctors are always males.  It's just more natural.  Except for today.  Today was (...shudder).

So I go to the doctor.  My pulse is normal, my weight is 172- which is now the new norm apparently, and my temp is great.  Then, I go to the bathroom to piss in a cup, steal a bunch of those alcohol wipes (my insurance pays for it) and bring my urine back to the nurse.  From there I am escorted to the exam room and she then instructs me to disrobe from the waist down.  And that is when I started to freak out.  I can't stand any of this shit that they do for prenatal care.  If it isn't getting pints and pints of blood sucked out of your veins, leaving you drowsy, it's having them probe your belly and vag.  It's disgusting and I freak out EVERY TIME.  And how do they do the vag exam to see if a lady like myself is dilated?  With a finger!  Disgusting.  So the nurse is in the corner, the doctor inserts his finger and I automatically go into "oh shit" mode and tense up.  My hands fly up and then seize in a bent-in-half type of T-Rex style as my body swishes from every possible angle to escape the discomfort.  Then, while his finger is still checking my cervix, my legs (which are extremely strong) squeeze together in hopes that they break his arm off.  Maybe it was my face that was distorted for a normally calm and uneventful occasion, or maybe it was the utter bedlam that triggered the nurse to laugh.  As his arm was trapped in my leg-vice, my doctor yelled: 

"ALEXIS!  STOP SQUEEZING MY FINGER!"

And I wanted to yell at him back, but what came out was this prehistoric "EWWWAHHH!!!!"

So finally, he reclaimed his arm/finger and finished the sonogram.  As I was getting dressed, I looked at my sonogram screen and had to take a picture.  I'm perplexed.  Is that Jesus in a sports coat, rocking a mullet or a Paul Mccartney from The Beetles? 

Charlie

Right about now I hate this stupid girl on tv.  She has a cat.  She's happy.  The world is revolving; never missing a beat.  Besides that, the movie sucks.  ...just like my life.

My cat Charlie is dying and I can't do anything to help her out.  She pukes, poops and cries.  I don't know what I did wrong, but my little critter is on the brink of death and all that I can do is watch and wait.  She's just a baby.  My little baby kitty...

I don't ever want another pet.