cats are my buddies

i don’t know about any of this other stuff

oh god oh lord

should i write something that no one is ever going to read or should i read a book until i get so depressed i have to go to sleep

(hmmm probably the latter huh)

man, hell yeah

Laura took these:

ernest hemingway called his cats “purr factories”

my ten-year high school reunion is this year. i’m pretty sure all those people think i’m dead, but if i do somehow get invited to whatever event they are planning, i know what my response will be:

“thank you for the invitation, but honestly i would rather eat my own balls.”

in my personal hell, i am forced at gunpoint to marry someone who has a tattoo of an aspirational quote written in cursive

once, long ago, my good friend neil smith was showing me his newest tattoo, which was on his chest. (i forget what it was.)

anyway: while he had his shirt up i noticed another tattoo on his ribcage. it was faded and probably a decade old. it was a penguin with a pumpkin on its head staring at a bowling pin. the penguin was sad. there was a broken heart above the pumpkin.

i said, “neil, i don’t mean to be the sort of person who asks what a tattoo means, but what the hell is that?”

and neil, god love him, laughed and said: “clearly you’ve never done PCP.”

my cool friend