How do you like my old-lady sofa with the old-lady afghan artfully placed across the back? Bitchin', no?
We won't even talk about the f*cking Bills schedule on the fridge. Bah.
Oh, and while I'm talking about cats (jeezus anything as long as I don't have to talk about the Bills), The Runt and Little Girl aren't that fond of human food. They're not even that fond of tuna juice, which Rocky used to love. I've tried all different kinds of food with them, including broccoli and other weird shit that cat owners claim their cats adore. These guys? Not so much.
So I was really surprised when I set a cupcake on the table the other night, left the room for about thirty seconds, and came back to discover that The Runt had hoovered all the frosting off that sucker. I mean, seriously, I think he set a land speed record for getting the frosting off a cupcake.
A cat after my own heart.