My sweet little kitty cat, Bootsy Collins, would like to wish you a very happy holiday. She looks precious next to that plate of peeps. She’s not supposed to be on the table but her punk rock personality gives no shit about the rules. Anyway, even if you’re not a religious person, I hope that you are able to utilize this holiday to spend time with friends and family. That stuff is important.
I bought a fitness ball today so I can do awkward looking exercises to strengthen my core. You know, because I care about fitness. Anyway, once I inflated the ball with the horrible handjob action pump that was included… my cat was memorized by it. He couldn’t figure out what it was there for. He just kept staring at it trying to figure out whether it was a friend or a foe. His sister immediately decided that its intentions were pure evil and fled the room. She hates it. Cats hate fitness. It goes against their napping philosophy.
My Fiance, Lauren, and I visited my mad scientist of a sister in Louisville, KY this weekend. Actually, she’s a physicist but that’s beside the point. We’re not talking about her. As far as this post is concerned, we are talking about her idiotic cat, Fluff. Now just so you know, Fluff is probably one of the dumbest cats on the planet. Fluff maintains just enough cognitive energy to maintain breathing and other involuntary bodily functions. This is one ginormous cat.
Sometimes I come out of the studio to find weird/interesting things going on in the house. Today has been one of those days. I’m convinced that our two cats have magical nap-inducing powers. It appears that Lauren has become their latest victim. It all starts with a belly rub and the next thing you know… you’ve been asleep for 5 hours. Cute little bastards.
Lauren hanging out in the kitchen with Maximus Prime while she makes her morning coffee. Pay no attention to my dog, Cleo, who looks dead in the background. She’s only napping.