Surprisingly, things are really not Like They Used To Be
1. Look, bloggers, at the mess that is Soho and especially the once-upon-a-time gay microcosm that is Old Compton Street; as if the weekly hen parties from South Bromley weren’t enough to cope with! At this time of year the place is heaving with herds of very straight, very clueless people out on their Christmas work do, gawking at the gay homosexuals like they’re in a gay safari. And the jokes they crack! Are not funny.
My Special lady Friend and I didn’t stick around for too long; it was a clear, crisp night, perfect for walking away from the very full bars.
2. this cat of mine is a disgrace, a renegade, a taint on the name of felines everywhere. Or is my education?
-Pancho, look, here’s bits of real chicken for you.
-Miaow.
-What, is it too hot still?
-Miaow!
-Not enough salt?
-Miaow..
-It needs to be cut into smaller bits?
-Miaow.
-What do you mean, sushi? You’ve never even seen sushi.
-Miaoow!
-Fine. I’m taking the remote control away from you., that’s too much daytime tv, missy. And anyway, what happened to the gratitude cats owed their masters?
-Miaow!
- I’m not making it up at all. In my days, cats dreamt of sucking on a dry chicken bone. So eat up.
- Miaow!
- I know you were abandoned at birth….Sure, I’ll hold it up for you so that you don’t get your whiskers dirty.
Michel Simon dans un musée du sexe ?
5 years ago
2 comments:
all cats are the same. mine will stand before a bowl that is overflowing with six different sorts of treats, and howl like she's starving to death. (such a pathetic sound, too; for a cat of her size and age, she sounds like a wimp). ungrateful sot. she can't get from one side of the bed to the other without trekking up and down the length of me two or three times. she can't let me sleep until the alarm goes off, she has to head butt me, or push her cold wet nose into my face fifteen minutes before my time every morning, and there's no sleeping in on the weekends. and she snores. and the rare occasions she decides to jump up on my lap and immediatly fall asleep are directly proportional to how urgent my need is to empty my bladder. love her, though.
so, what's this business about Argentina??
Happy Christmas, Merry Yule and Happy Solstice, dear Y.
(I think I have them all covered!)
Oh, give the moggy a scratch behind the ears for me!
Peace
Gregor
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