I draw the line at (on?) my pussy

bascially my new apartment has mice. White mice, who can in fact jump quite a distance btw.

This proves to be their undoing somewhat.

So I asked a friend to borrow his cat, who is called "cocksucker" and is gorgeous if not exactly the most solitary of cats; as in he does not like being left on his lonesome and if I sit on the edge of the chair I am currently sitting on, he will jump on the back and then slide down between the back of hte chair and my butt, whereupon he will commence to spoon my butt.

This is the non-painful thing he does to my butt.

Alternatively he will jump down there and then proceed to attempt to burrow (?) down my pants and up my ass, which is why my ass is now covered in claw marks. He is the most detirmined Cocksucker I have ever met.

He is not detirmined to catch mice of course, because cats are by definition non-utilitarian - so he has caught an epic 3 this week, which was about how good I was doing just by grabbing them by their tails as they scurried past and then flinging them out of the window.

Except I keep waking up to find a small dead mouse in the main room, his little feet curled up because Srs Burrowing Cat is not loving the mouse taste or something. Quite frankly and imho, cats without the adorable little tributes to the Great Cat meta-ego - consisting of artfully arranged animal entrails placed into places where uncovered human hands and feet will come into direct squishy contact with them - somewhat misses the point. Dead Mouse ala It's Own bodily Fluids is not really good enough, so the cat gets a definate B- as far as I'm concerned.

Yes I grade cats. I even put little "x"s and ticks on them in in red pen. That's not weird.

What is weird is that, in part because it's been ages since I've had pets of any kind really, I'm finding myself projecting my body dysmorphia onto the cat.

Which is an absolute bizarre thing to experience by the way, I'm feeding him okay regardless, because my brain is set up with all sorts of self-critical thingies that spend hteir time watching myself thinking, and are in turn watched over by yet more who watch them watching me think. Yet it's still weird to look at a cat and wonder if he's looking a bit fat when I haven't had him long enough for him to really visibly gain weight anyway even if I was over feeding him.

ED: It sucks, and then it sucks your pussy...to DEATH

But this is not his story, for this is the story of a very stupid mouse.

this mouse was on my kitchen counter top and as I moved away from whatever it had been hiding behind it made a mad dash ot the edge and jumped.

Now Cocksucker saw it as it reached the edge and was already in midair as it made it's suicidal leap for freedom.

Unfortunately I also saw it out of the corner of my eye.

now the corner of the eye is a curious thing. It can judge size, velocity and fuck all else, and the brain of the arachnophobe is one that automatically assumes anything moving in the corner of my vision which cannot be identified as "non-spider" must be a spider.

So my hand jerks out and slaps the mouse out of the air, up and away from me with a brief surprised "squik!" of shock followed by another "squik!" of a mouse hiting a wall at high velocity and bouncing.

Meanwhile Cocksucker, being a cat, is now flying through the air with no real purpose, and because cats always attempt to look nochalant regardless of what they're doing, he utilizes the innate power of anti-gravity all cats have to redirect himself in mid flight and to then latch onto my thigh with the most crazed, ears back pupils twice the size of his own head, look a cat can have, as if to say: "What? I hate your thigh evil pinkskinned pet creature, and that is only possible reason that I might have jumped for."

So we have this tableux then: Me looking shocked as my brain processes the events that ust led to me bitchslapping a mouse across a room while a cat knaws halfheartedly at my pants while the slapped mouse in question twitchs on its back in a sort of mild coma.

And then my pants fall down with the weight of Cocksucker.




Of course you do not understand the full import of what has happened because I have not let you in on two small but oh so important details. I mena, yes, slapping a mouse across the room and making it make a noise eerily akin to the noises that those mice being hit by hammers in that one monty python skit made is funny. A cat then pulling my pants down is also amusing, right?

Except I have to make a confession: I don't wear underwear if Aunt flow ain't in town - ostensibly becasue it saves on cleaning and wear-and-tear, and hence saves money.

But mostly it's because I started doing it and now it's habit *shrug*

Oh and did I mention that the parents of one of my friends was round so I could make them dinner? And they saw all of this because I have one of those mainroom-with-kitchen-area all in one dealies?

Fuck Saturdays.