Today, we reached that point of my life where I have nothing better to do than to talk about the cats that hang out at my job.
Yeah. While it’s nice to dream that running a record company might make you some actual money (it wont), some people have to go places like my job in order to trade their labor, doing menial shit like taking papers from one room and placing them in another, and so on, in exchange for an electronic transaction that happens once every two weeks… I lost my train of thought there.
Point is. I have a cold. I thought I did it to myself by getting suicidally drunk on Friday and smoking two packs of lucky strikes in a night, turns out…
This fucking cat gave it to me:
Yeah yeah, make your weird high-pitched noises indicative of cuteness… this motherfucker spreads aids.
She even came up to me and went “hewwooo” or whatever she does in cat language to say hi, and coughed and puked in front of me, couldn’t even purr right without making gross little sick sounds.
I DIDN’T KNOW THE HOUSEHOLD COLD EATS CATS TOO! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO! THEY GET THEIR OWN AIDS AND LEUKEMIA OR WHATEVER, HOW COME THEY CAN’T HAVE THEIR OWN BRAND OF CAT COLDS!?!?!
Somebody needs to invent a better cat.
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