Bad Cat

Bad Cat! Can you believe this pussy? First she's got to walk around with it. Then she wants to blow doughnuts. Then just when you think she’s about to pass it, comes the same old story about how she once lost one of her lives when she fell off the balcony. Puff-puff-give, Already! Lately, she keeps asking me to take her back to the vet for some Ketamine. She figures that she really doesn't need both kidneys and the K hole is worth it. Sometimes, I don't know about her! I really need to start keeping better company. Maybe I should get a nice dog in crystal rehab or something. I bet that the local Chelsea pound is full of them. I am sure that they'll make a great pet especially after a good rhinestone and parasite de-worming. (Insert laugh here)

So yeah......
It's a really slow Sunday. I feel like I really haven't done anything this weekend. Last night I went to a house party. The location of this memorable event was an empty, roach infested Queens’s apartment on the out squirts of Butt-fuck Egypt. I'd like to quote the permed girly, waxed brow party attendee next to me, wearing pink, who said aloud, "Phew, Miss Thing, the girls are out!" I think he (yes I did type "he") captured the spirit of the night in that one statement in all of its mixed irony. Important to mention was the bartender, my boy Kadom, who, was making some crazy 100 proof concoctions all night long. Screw the old traditional bartending recipes, his un-Zen approach kept me oblivious of my claustrophobic-homophobic reality at that moment. Needless to say, I only managed to stay an hour and a half.

The bottle of Captain Morgan’s Spiced Rum I took was $14.50, the dry cleaning bill to de-fumigate the smell of cheap cannabis and traces of Philip-Morris out of my Outfit: $8.00, the taxi cabs to and from $35.00, the clarity of knowing that I have not really been missing out on anything when I got back home: priceless.