You can tell my life is interesting, huh?
I was chatting with my cousin a few minutes ago, and she stated that she doesn't care for cats. Her words were that she was never at home and was allergic to them.
You should have seen my cats shaking as they read her words.
Faletame said, "So, she runs around all the time and has the audacity to say she's allergic! How does she know if she's always running around somewhere?"
Of course, Gabriela had to add, "Sounds like she's out running the streets like I used to ... before I settled down and became a wonderful example to cathood families everywhere!"
"Now, both of you hush! That's my cousin you're talking about!"
"But we live with you! That should mean something! Or, are we just furry friends when you want us around? Oh yeah, "Here kitty" when you want some loving and "Shut the hell up" when we simply state the truth! And you know she runs around ... she told you so!" added Gabriela.
They had a point!
Thus, I'm in a fix. I really do care a lot for my cousin. She's had a tough life, and needs a friend (as we all do) every now and then. But, on the other side, my cats are like my kids.
"Like you had anything to do with me being born!"
Quit reading over my shoulder. You know what I mean!"
"Yeah, you're just scared now! You remember sending me to the vet's planned parenthood program. You know one night, you might wake up to find me down around your crotch ... claws sharpened and ready for action! You think it's fun being a eunuch, do you?"
He had another point.
Still, I find myself slightly in a fix. I’m not going to cast away my cousin. She’s really a very respected person and a great friend to boot. And my cats, well, my cats are my cats! They’ll always be a part of my life.
“No, Gabriela, I’m saying it because it’s true. Even though you’re both pains in the butts at times, get your stray fur all around the keyboard as you practice your typing, and leave giant mounds of crap in the litter box for Millie to clean up,
I love you both."
"So, you love us both?"
"Yes, I love you both."
"So, do you love Faletame
more than me, or me
more than Faletame?"
God, I think I feel an allergy coming on!
Anyway, it's time for:
"Finish The Sentence Friday!!!!"
Whoopee! Whoopee! Whoopee!
This is the time of the week that I now place an image that shows the rules and gracious hostesses of this spectacular weekly event.
So, great image, isn't it?
Anyway, this week's prompt to finish is:
"A typical day in my life looks like ... "
The real question is, "Should I divulge the secret lifestyle I cherish?"
Actually, it's pretty boring. See if you don't agree.
I do the typical bathroom stuff and come out feeling completely awake and refreshed. Smelling of Royal Copenhagen cologne (no longer being produced), I enter into my breakfast nook to a light meal of pancakes with strawberry syrup, three eggs, six pieces of bacon, wheat toast with real butter, orange juice, and black coffee. (Okay, so I imagined everything but the coffee, let a guy live his dream for a while.)
I then enter my Lamborghini and race down the two mile driveway to the main road. Passing police officers at speeds in excess of 180 mph, I wave as I know I’ve still plenty of money lying in wait of the tickets they’ll write while laughing at how funny it was for them to be left behind in a cloud of dust. (Yeah, Yeah, so I bounce out of the driveway onto the street in my Honda Ridgeline, and creep by the cop cars in hopes that they don’t notice my seat belt no longer works properly.)
Arriving at work, the valet takes my car and gently parks it by the front door. I enter the building and am greeted with complete respect by my underlings that believe brown nosing the boss means an employment future. I ride my private elevator to the 737th floor, walk into my office in the clouds, and peruse my computer for items requiring my expertise. (Yep, you guessed it. I park six blocks from work in a free parking zone, am ignored by all except the receptionist who immediately reminds me I’m late, walk down three flights of stairs to my office next to the cardboard incinerator and sewer hook-ups, and check my email for any spam that looks like it means I’ve won money from a past dictator from Africa.)
Diligently I work on matters of world importance until time for lunch. I then enjoy a Continental Offering of Italian, Swiss, and American delicacies. (So I search the web to act like I’m busy, until it’s time to eat my Dollar Tree salami and cheese on wheat bread sandwich for lunch.)
The afternoon passes quickly as my technical skills are called into use many times. Finally, as the work day ends, I don my exercise gear, get my body in shape to it’s six pack image, jump in my Lamborghini and head back home to my mansion on the hill. (You guessed it. After making 117 field goals while playing with rubber bands and paperclips, I walk the six blocks back to my truck, beer gut heaving as I try to catch my wind, crawl up into my truck, and drive home to the shack behind the radio tower.)
After indulging in another evening delicacy from New Orleans, I head back to my computer and answer the millions of fan letters I have waiting from all of those that love my writing and can’t wait until the next installment. (Okay, so it’s Zatarain’s Red Beans & Rice frozen TV dinner, emails from Direct TV and Bluegrass Energy telling me my credit card was rejected and that the bills were due two days ago, and a few drunken acquaintances that wonder if I’m ever going to go back to Hubpages and start writing for real again.)
After an evening of expressive entertainment, I snack on Idaho’s finest treats, brush my teeth, and head off into a dreamland in my King Size bed. (Or, after suffering through my wife’s watching of The Voice, Dancing With The Stars, or Duck Dynasty, I grab a bag of potato chips, inhale them all within seconds, and hit the waterbed for four hours of sleep before having to get up and do it all over again the next day!)
Now, aren’t you glad you asked?
“So, do you love Faletame more than me, or me more than Faletame? You still haven’t answered me!”
Oh, God ... why me?