That is what I keep re-suring myself after da cats had their stooopid one years down (10ish to go -- hopefully LESS) birthday. Luckily Mom didn't do anything crazy like throw a party to "celebrate" but I was still forced to endure a trip to Blue Collar that was exclusively for buying presents for the fur sluts. I was like, Why am I here and Mom's not gettin' anything for ME? I have never gone to Blue Collar (best store EVER) and left with nothin' in the bag for Stell. I asked Mom how would she like it if she had to go to her favorite store, (probably the grocery store because she loves trying on different kinds of fat) and didn't get anything.
The thing that kill me about these cats is how little they add to the world. They don't speak any English and they poop in a box. I been thinkin' a lot about this shit 'n these are the only positives I can come up with about these catssholes:
1) They eat Chester's food.
2) They play with Chester's tail. Sometimes violently.
3) They are extremely dumb so the odds a' them accidentally killing themselves is pretty good.
4) The older they get, the uglier they be, so by age three or so they should be so hideous Mom will stop lovin' them.
Yeah, that's about it for the pluses. And I was bein' real generous with number four cuz truly they was born too ugly to be loved. Happy Birthday, Shittens. Hope it's the last time I gotta say it.
In other news, Chester peed on a yardsale today.
