I think my entire house is filled with the ebola virus. Sharon and I haven't been feeling well, one of the cats hasn't been feeling well. Yesterday we left the house on our one day off together, which quickly ended with a visit to a sketchy McDonald's bathroom (Where a dude looked a little too long to see if anyone was occupying the stall. All you have to know is whether someone's using it, you won't have to describe them to a police sketch artist, you creeper.) and we spent the rest of the day watching serial killer documentaries on MSNBC.
I think I wasn't feeling well cause I've been stressed out about Icarus not feeling his best. Cats will drive you nuts cause unlike kids they don't whine when they don't feel good. They're like the Black Knight from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. You'll be all "hey kitty, what happened to your back legs that I know you had this morning and suddenly seem to be missing?" and they'll be all "puuuurrrrrr could I get some belly scratches purrrrrrrrrr." They're tough little buggers. So you never really know whether they just have to fart or if something catastrophic is happening.
On a different note, my wife is always trying to convince me that the cats would love nothing more than to wear costumes. I told her that I don't think our health insurance is good enough to cover the mauling she would get if she tried to dress them us as ballerinas. Sure, this cat looks all content wearing his Kaiju costume, but that's because he's not real and has no feelings of murder in his heart. Furry Feline Creatives have made 12 of these plushy monster cats as New York Comic Con exclusives for Suburban Vinyl. You can get one at booth #208 and let this satisfy any need you may feel to dress your cat for tea parties. You'll thank me when you're not get stitched back together.
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