My cat is sleeping on my fucking arm! Well, not anymore but for the love of fuck! There isn't anything more adorable then my sweet precious cat doing what it does best. Over eat and barf all over the place like Linda Blair joining the bulemia club at the local gym. But rather then extradite my anger at the lack of feeling in my arm, I'll let her do what she also does best. Sleep. A lot.

Now this isn't any average fucking cat, this is a cat with some gusto. She'll sleep anywhere she fucking wants, and I have just two inches of fucking blanket. I'm pissed, I'm angry, and her purring really isn't helping the situation. But thats not what I want to rant about, or blarf... That's my new word of the day folks. Blarf. Blarg and barf. What either of those two are doing making baby words is beyond me. But still.

Today I had a pang of guilt. Not just any pang of guilt... Well actually, no... I dont have any pangs of guilt. I'm trying not to bitch about my fucking ex girlfriend.... ex fiance actually. Can't believe I was THAT ( ) close to getting married. Marriage is a big deal to me, the pageantry, the prose, that fucking race to see which family can light the candles first. It almost makes my heart ache thinking of the possibility of finding someone to spend the rest of my life with.

But no. I have a fucking cat on my arm. This does mostly nothing to alter my mood from, "Aw.... Thats cute!" to "Aw....  somethings biting my ankle and now I can't itch it because this cats on my fucking arm!"

Actually, it does a lot. But thats just between us.

So there are three things wrong with me tonight. I have a fucking cat on my arm, I'm sneezing like a bitch, and I'm tired. So why am I up this late? Am I worried? Am I listless? I have a list, I just don't know where it is.... Aww.... Her furs so soft! It's sooo sweet! Thats it for me tonight.