me: “You know what I like most about you, Klonopin? It’s that you don’t judge me, man. You take me for who I am.”
Klonopin: “Don’t mention it. I mean, Lord knows being batshit crazy is enough of a burden without my piling on.”
“Although I must say, I do wish you’d stop poking the neighbor’s cat with that big grilling fork. I have a reputation for effectiveness to uphold, and your poking cats with giant tines does little to inspire the confidence of other would-be clients…”
CAT BLOGGING RULZ!
Hold on there, buster. It’s not really cat blogging without pictures.
Plus, cats are too gamey to put on grills. Ya gotta chuck ‘em in the Crock Pot for 24 hours.
Any other Cat Blogging Rules?
The forking is classic passive-agressive behavior. If you really meant it, you’d shoot the little fucker.
Using a grilling fork is no way to tell if the cat is really medium-rare. Using a grill thermometer removes all the guess work, and we all know there’s nothing worse than under-done cat. Good grief, I hate it when that happens.
Just set out a bowl of anti-freeze. Forking is too slow.
This is why alcohol is better than drugs. Scotch knows when to keep its big mouth shut.
I would group all alcohol together like like. You should hear some of the shit my martini’s say.
and by would I mean wouldn’t
There are only two things in this world that scare me, and one of them are cats with giant tines.
…conjugate the verb, Beck, conjugate the verb…