Here’s a quick piece of information: Cats and Dogs?? Yeah, they pretty much hate each other.
Which leads to my NEXT piece of information: Cats and Dogs?? Yeah, it’d be DOWNRIGHT STUPID to try to ask them to LIVE TOGETHER. PERMANENTLY.
Which is why, based on those two, very accurate bits of knowledge, I an conclude that: I live with a psychotic family.
Because, just when I started thinking to myself Hey, congratulations!! You’ve hit ROCK BOTTOM and there’s no way to proceed but UP, UP, UP!! My father comes along and indirectly assures me that if I dig hard enough, there is a way to penetrate the rock at the bottom.
Which, just FYI, is NOT a good thing.
My whole life, I knew that there would be a point when I’d reach a situation that TOTALLY sucked. From every possible angle. And that there’d be no way out of it except to persevere. And, I believed that, as soon as I waited long enough and got out of the rut, there would be no other option but to shoot to world fame and eternal glory.
[Which should give you an idea of exactly how messed up the internal working of my brain really are]
Naturally, when the cat came to stay for a short holiday, I assumed that I’d reached the place I’d been dreading my whole life, and I was kept alive and running only by the knowledge that at the end of the whole escapade, I would be mentioned along the lines of Beyonce and Oprah.
OBVIOUSLY, that didn’t happen. Instead of catching late night tequila shots with Gwen Stefani, I got my father casually asking me whether I’d like the cat to stay. FOREVERMORE.
I was so shocked, I almost puked in my mouth. Having the cat stay for a few weeks is torture enough. But for the rest of my life?! I’d rather be put of a long lasting NON-FAT TOFU [if there is such a thing] diet.
Why does everything have to be so complicated?? Why can’t the Gods just made me a superstar already?? It’s not like I’m not destined to be one, anyway.