I present: a series of reasons why I’m not allowed to have nice things, brought to you by a cat who’s been incarcerated in my house for the last three years and occasionally reminds me he’ll eat my eyeballs first when I die.
Destruction, wrapped in fluff.
You clearly have too much screen time, and I hate that you’re working, so I will remedy your situation.
Fuck cable.
How dare you put a plant in MY room? (Related: those African violets are delicious and I protest you putting them out of my reach.)
Sure, turn me to stone, bitch. If you can roll over after I broke your legs.
False accusation! This was that ignoramus puppy YOU decided to bring into this household against my wishes.
Also ignoramus puppy. Even I’m not stupid enough to eat one of my books, as you’ve threatened more than once that eating books makes me eligible for becoming a throw pillow.
The lessons here: I obviously don’t run my household, patience and cuteness is the only reason my horde of asshole pets are still alive, and this is why I don’t have nice things.
I'm a history and mythology fanatic with a head full of "but what if it happened THIS way instead" moments. I find humor in the most inappropriate situations.
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Traveling in Iran and Persian language and culture explained through personal stories and beautiful imagery from the eyes of an Iranian-American living in Tehran
Love your stories!!š»
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I have to admit; my cat is not very destructive. She would be perfect if not for sharpening her claws on the couch if I am sitting on it.
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Oh…I only documented destruction on the 2nd floor…I didn’t get the couches. That’s a really good point. I should show what he’s done to them, too.
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