I am in the Tenth Circle of HELL, also known as Dallas in the Summer. Hot fun in the summertime? Not much.
I swear, I could stand outside for about 45 minutes and the Booze Belly probably wouldn’t be a problem anymore. If I sweated fat, which I don’t. But it is a lovely daydream.
Today, I ran across an article about a jumping goat. Given my
obsession love for baby goats and goats in general, I had to read it. Naturally, there was a video.
That’s one bouncy-ass goat! I have watched this video maybe 30 times already (isn’t she taking a piss at one point?). Then I learned that bouncy-ass Buttermilk has her own Facebook page. Of course she does. Now I will be checking on her probably every day. Because damn it, I want a fucking baby goat!
That video is almost as good as this:
But instead of buying a baby goat, I will be “fostering” a kitten [is there Goat Rescue? Adopt, don’t shop! is what I say about dogs and cats, but now I’m curious if people rescue goats, too]. And by “fostering,” I mean I will end up with the kitten because that is exactly how I ended up with Rainbow, Mr. Tail and Mr. Swirly (RIP). My younger brother feeds this stray cat and the little slut got knocked up [I also believe in spay/neuter and went all ballistic on his ass about it, but I’ll bitch about that in another post]. She has six kittens and he has only one taker so far. Being the softie that I am, I decided I would take one and try to find it a good home. Asked for help naming her on Facebook, but then it hit me – Bubbles! What a fucking awesome name for a kitten!
Being the worrier that I am, immediately I began wondering how my choice in kitten names would affect her when she grows up. Went to The Tribunal for some advice:
So what do y’all think? I could just name her Clara, but she might grow up to knit, collect knick-knacks and “Tsk, tsk!” me every time I drop a F-bomb. I could just name her Beverly. Except I guess that only applies to DOGS.
Note: I have absolutely NOTHING against the names Clara and Beverly. Those are my first and middle names. Not really. Oh, and I don’t have anything against knitting. Knitting needles make excellent weapons.
With no one around to chaperone my
crazy fun ass last night, and because the non-BF isn’t starting his Austerity Campaign until tomorrow [bastard was all “I’m at the Flying Saucer!” knowing full well I am not drinking to try and lose weight!], I ran to the store and grabbed some Pinot Grigio. Unfortunately, I started drinking it before the photography webinar began. Hell, I probably needed it, since the chick moderator was driving me crazy on the first night.
Now, I give you Evidence why I should have a breathalyzer on my cell phone:
[I grew up with SO much positive support!]
You know I’m gonna have some more tomorrow. High school would have been so much more fun had they allowed me to drink during class!
And now for my DYAC of the week…
Notice he didn’t even bite? I must be losing my
sec sex appeal. Or else he is so used to seeing “sex” in my texts to him, it doesn’t even phase him anymore.