OK. This sucks ass. I have to find homes for 2 of my kitties. The grandparents are not so thrilled with my menagerie, and as they have been so kind to provide a place for me to live, I feel I must honor their cruel request. So, I'm going to just say, if any of you lovely people are looking into getting a cat, you should consider Fat Al and Moto, so they don't end up at Town Lake, waiting to be euthanized. These cats rawk! I cannot imagine life without them, but have been left no choice.
Fat Al is 5 years old, black and white tuxedo total casanova, neutered, front declawed (my grandparents did it, I do NOT advocate declawing!), and a total sweetheart. He acts like a dog, and gets along well with all dogs, regardless of size.
Moto is a 4 year old, longhaired orange tabby, neutered, and has all his claws. He is a love once he gets to know you, but is initially skittish, and is ok with dogs, though he doesnt play fight and chase them like crazy Fat Al.
They are both: FIV/FELV negative, current on vaccinations, and have no health problems....well, Al needs to be on a diet after living with my grandfolks for 7 months, but he isn't morbidly obese by any means.
If anyone is interested please let me know ASAP. I would prefer they be adopted together, but realize that is not likely, especially since they're adult cats.
So much has happened in the past three months, it all seems to be a huge whirlwind. Met someone I really dig and damned if it's not driving me up the walls with a plethora of emotions. As uncouth as it may sound, after leaving a five year relationship my goal was to have as much raunchy, cheap, depraved sex as possible. This was the goal for many reasons, but first and foremost being that I felt to "seriously date" anyone would be to fuck them over at this point in my life. So I tried to be cold and frigid, slept with people I would never consider becoming serious with (namely lots of assholes), acted as if I had no feelings, raised the bar with reserved bitterness, all to no avail. I made a huge mistake, if you can call it that, by meeting up with someone who's visions and opinions of the world were bizarrely similar to mine. And now look at me...back to my ol sappy bastard self. Damn you. It is incredibly difficult to open your heart to someone 5 months after smashing it yourself with a sledge hammer, especially when they're cool, good hearted and fucking amazing. That just intensifies the whole goddamned predicament. Now I am faced with choices, which I hate. Like do I stay and risk getting F'd in da A, or do I run like hell and wonder for eternity how my life might have been different had I stuck around. I hate choices because I feel cornered by myself, pressured to decide. And why must every positive aspect of my life be overshadowed by paranoia of possible future collapse? That's just no way to enjoy life. Can it even be considered living if in such a state? So, all these feelings, they only serve to complicate matters, which leads me to believe perhaps I'm more apt at being a frigid bitch...if I could quit caring. And how much love is too much love too early? Fuck if I know. I don't want to hurt anymore than I already do. Selfish I know. So many variables and questions and I don't even know why I'm obsessing over this. It is pointless to speculate about the future, about how others feel towards you, about how psycho you are. I think I'm fairly normal when in bitch mode, but perhaps that is subjective. It's been one helluva long, hard week. I think these thoughts wouldnt even occur to me if I wasn't all jacked up on Adderall and sleep deprived. So, yea, I'm gonna pretend I havent thought of any of this and take a nap.
Fat Al is 5 years old, black and white tuxedo total casanova, neutered, front declawed (my grandparents did it, I do NOT advocate declawing!), and a total sweetheart. He acts like a dog, and gets along well with all dogs, regardless of size.
Moto is a 4 year old, longhaired orange tabby, neutered, and has all his claws. He is a love once he gets to know you, but is initially skittish, and is ok with dogs, though he doesnt play fight and chase them like crazy Fat Al.
They are both: FIV/FELV negative, current on vaccinations, and have no health problems....well, Al needs to be on a diet after living with my grandfolks for 7 months, but he isn't morbidly obese by any means.
If anyone is interested please let me know ASAP. I would prefer they be adopted together, but realize that is not likely, especially since they're adult cats.
So much has happened in the past three months, it all seems to be a huge whirlwind. Met someone I really dig and damned if it's not driving me up the walls with a plethora of emotions. As uncouth as it may sound, after leaving a five year relationship my goal was to have as much raunchy, cheap, depraved sex as possible. This was the goal for many reasons, but first and foremost being that I felt to "seriously date" anyone would be to fuck them over at this point in my life. So I tried to be cold and frigid, slept with people I would never consider becoming serious with (namely lots of assholes), acted as if I had no feelings, raised the bar with reserved bitterness, all to no avail. I made a huge mistake, if you can call it that, by meeting up with someone who's visions and opinions of the world were bizarrely similar to mine. And now look at me...back to my ol sappy bastard self. Damn you. It is incredibly difficult to open your heart to someone 5 months after smashing it yourself with a sledge hammer, especially when they're cool, good hearted and fucking amazing. That just intensifies the whole goddamned predicament. Now I am faced with choices, which I hate. Like do I stay and risk getting F'd in da A, or do I run like hell and wonder for eternity how my life might have been different had I stuck around. I hate choices because I feel cornered by myself, pressured to decide. And why must every positive aspect of my life be overshadowed by paranoia of possible future collapse? That's just no way to enjoy life. Can it even be considered living if in such a state? So, all these feelings, they only serve to complicate matters, which leads me to believe perhaps I'm more apt at being a frigid bitch...if I could quit caring. And how much love is too much love too early? Fuck if I know. I don't want to hurt anymore than I already do. Selfish I know. So many variables and questions and I don't even know why I'm obsessing over this. It is pointless to speculate about the future, about how others feel towards you, about how psycho you are. I think I'm fairly normal when in bitch mode, but perhaps that is subjective. It's been one helluva long, hard week. I think these thoughts wouldnt even occur to me if I wasn't all jacked up on Adderall and sleep deprived. So, yea, I'm gonna pretend I havent thought of any of this and take a nap.
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Unloaded the U-Haul today. Brought tons of guitars and speakers and stereo equipment into my dad's house, then drove to my uncle's place to store literally tons of other stuff.
My buddy Todd helped me with that last part, so I guess maybe Oklahoma ain't treatin' me so bad after all, it was just extremely hot & muggy.
Sorry you have to give up your kitties...