I’ve lived in this apartment for 6 months. It’s been 6 months. 6 months! Holy shit.
I went past this cottage again today. It’s still for rent. It’s always for rent. Why hasn’t it been rented?
I looked at this little cottage house 6 months ago, and it’s still for rent. Is it haunted? Aliens? Murder crime scene? What? I didn’t move into it because the moment the owner saw me he suddenly raised the rent like $75 above what was originally advertised. Shady.
How much do you think those condos go for near the Bonneville transit center? The ones above that pho restaurant. I would love to live above a pho restaurant. Love pho. But no. Even if I could afford it, it would be horrible for Miso.
I didn’t get the job calling Bingo. The casino hired someone more qualified they said. She better be 21 years old with perfect hair, perfect teeth, perfect skin, and perfectly upright D-cups, because that’s the only way someone would be more qualified to yell bingo numbers.
Are we all watching THE DIRT on Netflix next month? I so am. Are you kidding me? I’m a Tommy Lee, girl. First of all I have a thing for tall guys. I don’t know why but it seems tall white guys have the numbers when it comes to being hot. Plus he’s hung and that used to matter to me once upon a time. Not so much anymore. Now I just don’t give a shit about anything. Except Miso. The cat. Not the soup. Miso soup is ridiculous. Chicken broth with tofu. Ick.
PHO, or Tom Kha Gai, or seafood ramen, now those are some soups right there! 😋
Mmmmm seafood ramen 🍜
What was I talking about?
Right, Miso.
In people years Miso is about 14. And he’s driving me crazy. He’s SO moody. I wouldn’t be surprised if he strutted into my apartment one day soon with choppy black fur over one eye, and wearing a Cure tee shirt. Few nights ago he ran up into my apartment all quiet. He didn’t want to eat, or sleep, or be pet. He kept hissing at me for no reason. And then 5 minutes later he ran back out of my apartment. WTF? But then last night he was all sweet and cuddly for a long time, like 7 hours, before demanding to go out again, which drove me crazy because it’s below freezing out. But I also can’t have him waking up my building at 2am with his meowing. He’s not even supposed to be in the building to begin with so I let him out. Then I went looking for him a half hour later (because it’s below freezing out) but he was long gone.
THIS in part is why having children never appealed to me. My tolerance level for pain is purely physical. I have zero tolerance for pain mentally. I get a headache I’m popping every pill under the sun with a bottle of alcohol to get rid of it. Which is why I’ll never have another straight male roommate ever (fucking ever!) again because I just cannot relate to the batshit crazy loony toonacy of their goddamn girlfriends. And in making up Miso’s brand wear all I kept thinking was - he’s an irritating moody fucking teenage boy. It conflicted with the humor of my original MISO HORNY stud-wear idea.
Did I tell you guys alongside applying for a job as a bingo caller, I also applied for a job as a meat seller? I’ll know about that job on Thursday. And no, I’m not purposely applying for ridiculous jobs, but I live in the desert. The desert. With actual blowing tumbleweeds and cactus.
And so...
Here I am, in the desert, sometimes with an irritating teenage cat, quite possibly selling meat. I suppose that explains why I attract men who hunt. I hate hunting. But these damn hunters keep asking me out. If no one killed chickens, fish, pigs, or cows, I simply wouldn’t eat them. But as long as there’s meat being sold at grocery stores and restaurants, I’ll eat them. I just couldn’t kill an animal myself. Not in my old deteriorating degenerative senior softy years.
I don’t know. Maybe it’s time to move back to LA. I don’t know what’s happening to me out here. I’m drawings pictures of cats for fuck sake.
I was recently scolded at by another artist on social media. An artist I’ve long respected. “What’s with the cats?!”
Well, actually Michael, it’s just the one cat and he’s...
(Sigh)
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