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Chit & Also Chat Equals An Upset "N"


Jason Rimbaud

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Chit & Also Chat Equals an Upset “N”

May 12th, 2022

 

I can’t believe it’s already May 12, 2022. Life seems to move faster and faster the older you get. I’ll be fifty in two and half years. Where the hell did the time go? Just yesterday I was twenty year old chasing fuzzy bunny slippers and now I’m lucky to find my slippers. Not sure if that is a euphemism. But it sounds dirty so I’ll allow it. 

So I’m bald. But that’s been for like ten years now. I’m one of the lucky ones. My head is perfectly round like a bowling ball, it also has three holes in it. Wait, I’m forgetting a few holes, that’s so not like me to forget a hole I have. Told you I’m getting old.

Remember when I was obsessed with my drug weight and how I hated to be sober because it made me fat? And once I quit drugs my friends used to say that I was finally getting to a “healthy weight”. Which we all know is code for fat ass. Well, no one accuses me of that anymore. And I’m a few pounds heavier than I used to be.

I’m married, for three years now. We have been together for almost seven years. So my days of chasing train twink's and straight boy crushes are long behind me. As well as any type of sex. I’m trying to tell you that I never have sex anymore. And it’s not like I don’t try to jump my husband's bones/bone at every opportunity. For some reason he hates it when I try to dry hump him in the middle of Target. He’s such a prude sometimes. 

I am now the owner of two cats, Chit and Chat. So my once pristine carpets are destroyed and filled with stains. And not the fun stains that I am accustomed to cleaning. Fur balls, and vomit and that’s just from my husband. 

My job is amazing. It keeps me busy but opening new locations and getting into the corporate side of the business is so much fun. I don’t want to tell them that I would do it for half the money they are paying me. Even I think they pay me way too much for the work I accomplish. 

My husband, I love the way that sounds by the way. My husband just graduated from an online college for accounting. He decided to change careers at *insert age*, and is now living his best life as a stuffy accountant. Did I mention that he crammed a three year program into one year? Did I also tell you that he did that while working a full time job? Did I also tell you that he graduated with one of the highest rankings in the year? Boom, humble brag about my husband, no regrets.

The last three months, I have begun gathering all my writings, Blog entries, poetry, and converting them to Google Docs so I can keep them all in the same place. During this process, I first started with my Blog at AwesomeDude. I went all the way back to the very first one with the intention of copying and pasting into Google Docs. But I found myself re-reading the entries and I found so many errors, spelling or grammatical that I actually rewrote all of them. From start to finish. I wasted almost two months rewriting them all before I started on my poetry, and I am now working on all the stories I posted under a name that none of you know. 

Did you know that twenty years ago I was rather prolific on Nifty writing fan fiction? Did you also know that I won several Boy Band awards writing under my first pen name? You didn’t, because they were all fucking horrible. I know, because I am reading/rewriting them now for some weird reason. Maybe one day I’ll let you read them so you can see how much they suck. 

Getting back to my Blog, boy was I a mess back then. Do you remember those angst filled, drug induced, straight boy crushes that almost killed me? I don’t. It was like looking at someone else. I guess I am so far removed from that person that I actually enjoyed reading the old entries. On entertainment value, I’d say my Blog was a 9 out of 20. On personal growth, 20 out of 20. 

I posted on several different sites over the years. And as I have been gathering them all together, I have come across stories I completely forgot I wrote. Poetry that was really good, it’s under my name but I’ll be damned if I remember writing them.  Is this what happens when you finally get your shit together and grow up? 

I used to be a clean freak, I’d have marathon cleaning sessions. In each room of my apartment/house, all the carpet had to be vacuumed in the same way, each with complete straight lines. I washed the baseboards every week, dust the tops of doorways, clean all the doors to my kitchen cabinets. Scrub the floor and if I’d find even one little stain on my carpet, I’d shampoo the entire thing. But that was before “N”.

Upon reading my Blog, it seems that all the men I dated/fucked are messy. It’s easily the one thing that connects all my hookups together. I still hate leftovers, I don’t understand why you need to have leftovers? Why? You never fucking eat them. Throw them away. Why do you constantly make me clean up after you by cleaning out the fridge every few days of leftover food that you just had to save? 

“N” comes home from work. Before I tell you that, let me explain a little about “N”. “N” is 110 pounds if I put rocks in his pockets and weigh him fully dressed including shoes. And he’s five foot nine inches, so he’s not short. The only reason I tell you this is to explain why I do five loads of laundry each week with only two people in the house. 

“N” wears this every time he leaves the house. Three to four pairs of long johns, a pair of jeans/pants, three pairs of socks, a Tank-Top, a T-Shirt,a pullover sweater, a hoodie, and of course undies. That’s seven days a week! 

Before I came into his life, I’m not saying that he wore the same long johns, socks for days on end, but he was only doing one load of laundry a week. I’ll let you decide his clothing habits. 

So when my lovely husband comes home after a long day at work. The other thing about “N” is, when he was going to school full time, he was also working full time. He is as dedicated, driven a person as I ever met. He’s smart, way smarter than I will ever hope to be. He’s hot, fucking hot in a can’t believe I get to see you naked whenever I want kind of way. He’s so fucking hot if I wasn’t so in love with him I’d want the whole world to see his naked ass. But he’s a messy mother fucker. 

He comes home from work, after studying five or six hours in the morning before working an entire day, and his shoes get thrown in different directions, he takes off his long johns, and pants, and undies in one motion. So I have three to four long johns, pants, undies, all inside out, layered on top of each other. His socks come off the same way, three pairs inside out layered, his sweater and hoodie, inside out and layered…in a heap on the kitchen or living room floor. 

He then gets a new pair of undies, sleep pants, three pairs of socks, a Tank Top, T-Shirt, and a sweater/hoodie. Then he crawls into our bed, we have three thick comforters and he still complains he’s cold. I’m in the house, in a pair of shorts, sweating because he has the fucking heat turned up to the hell setting. Our two cats, Chit & Chat, are literally open mouth breathing because of the heat. And he’s fucking cold. 

He then gets ready for bed. He takes off the sweater/hoodie, the T-Shirt, throws them on the floor next to our bed, and goes to sleep. In the morning, he gets a new T-Shirt, sweater/hoodie and puts them on. After he takes a shower, he takes off his undies, his three pairs of socks, his Tank-Top, his T-Shirt, and his sweater/hoodie and puts them on the bathroom floor. Right next to the laundry basket, because he prefers his clothes on the floor. I love him. 

We have four laundry baskets around our house. For one, because for some reason we go through a lot of dirty clothes. But mainly because I always have a laundry basket handy for me to pick up his clothes from the floor and put it inside the basket. He then starts the whole process all over again. I do a lot of laundry. Do you understand how much time I spend just turning his clothes right side out before washing them? You don’t because no one is as messy as my husband. Not your husband, or any husband that has ever been a husband in the history of the entire fucking world. 

September marks the 16th year I’ve had a Blog on Awesome Dude. Sixteen long years of rambling, digressions, and pointless rants that my one loyal reader has had to put up with. I feel sorry for whoever that person is. I probably have made him/her/they dumber in the process. But that’s the risk you run when reading anything I write. You must have missed the disclaimer. 

I’ve been toying with the idea of doing something special in September. Like maybe I’ll post nudes in my Blog, one nude for each year my Blog has been hosted at Awesome Dude. I could probably find a nude from every year. Then all you could see the way I’ve gotten balder on my head and hirsute in my ears and upper shoulders. By the way, no one ever told me that not only does hair grow out your ears the older you get, but for some reason my eyebrows are getting bushy as well. Fuck you all for keeping that secret from me. 

I also thought I could do a Blast from the Past section in my Blog. Posting something once a month to remind my one loyal reader of the absurdity of my past. Or I could work in the titles of my old entries with a link for those who might want to revisit those digressions. Seriously, when I read the entry “I’ll Never Wear Boxers Again”, it might be one of the best things I wrote here. 

But all that sounds like a shit ton of work and I’m way too lazy to do any of that. Though I did have fun going through my photos finding all the nudes I’ve taken over the years. I don’t want to slut shame myself, but I was a fucking slut. Some of the photos I looked at and thought, why did I get laid so often in my youth? There is a whole series of just Las Vegas photos that would make a seaman blush. Boom, my first cum joke of this Blog, no regrets. 

“N” had wanted a dog from the first moment I met him. I’m not an animal person. If anyone remembers an entry called “Giant Can Of Red Bull, Spearmint Gum, and a Pack of Marlboro Lights” would know that. I completely refused to get a dog. They are messy, dirty, and stain the carpets. I would not have a dog in my fucking house. Plus, I have a hard enough time cleaning up “N’s” shit on the daily. The last thing I want to do is clean up actual shit from the street a few times a day. The one thing I make “N '' do, he must clean the litter box. And if he “forgets” I dump a bit of fresh litter on his side of the bed to remind him. Just a little game we like to play. Don’t you worry about that. 

Chit is an orange tabby female cat. According to “N”, orange tabby females are very rare. Chit was brought home about 10 months ago. Chit is a very nice cat, cleans herself often, has a clean butthole, and much to “N’s” chagrin, is my cat. Chit follows me around the house, no matter where I’m at, Chit is right there next to me. Chit helps me do laundry, helps me clean, offers advice while I’m playing video games, watches me while I eat. What else, she’s 11 pounds at 10 months old, so she is still a kitten. Oh, and she fucking sleeps on my face every night.

“N” is always cold. I have tried to get Chit to sleep with “N”. But for some reason, Chit is not happy unless her ass is firmly pressed up against my mouth. I sleep on my left side, facing my wonderful if not messy husband. My arm is stretched out like I’m trying to stay connected to him in our sleep. Chit sleeps in the corner of my arm, her head facing “N”, her ass in my mouth. And when I move my head back a few inches to get a breath that’s not filled with hair, she presses back until she makes contact with my mouth. Six hours a day I have to put up with this cat needing me to breathe on her ass.  

Chit wakes me up every morning at 3am by slapping my face with her paws. She will continue to slap me until I roll over on my back where she will then sit on my chest, her face about an inch from my mouth and demand head rubs for about twenty minutes. Once she decrees that she is finished with head rubs, she will smack my face for me to roll back over on my side where she will assume her position of staring at my husband with her ass back in my mouth. At five am, she will start headbutting me until I get up to feed her. Once she is fed, I am dead to her for about seven hours. She sleeps next to my husband, purring in his ear. 

Chit is a very proper cat. She lays down with her paws crossed, staring blankly at me as I move around the house. The upside, I can do anything I want to her  and she doesn’t seem to care. I touch her paws, trim her nails, rub her belly, all this she takes in stride. Have you ever given someone a “raspberry”. You know, you put your lips on them and blow out. I do this to her all the time, and she just sits there with a look on her face of “continue, let me know when you are done.” 

To get my revenge on her, when she is sleeping in the ray of sunshine that comes through our patio door, I start rubbing her head, her belly, anything to wake her up. Then once she goes back to sleep, I’ll do it again. One time I timed it, I fucked with her sleeping for thirty minutes and she didn’t move more than her tail twitched. Chit likes to take showers with me. She gets soaking wet and likes to run to my sleeping husband plop down on his chest. It’s one of his favorite ways to wake up in the morning. 

About two months ago, “N” decided that our perfect little proper cat is depressed. So he brings home a little psycho that we named “Chat”. Chat was abandoned, so she never had a mother to teach her things like, how to groom herself, how to cover her waste, or how to do anything. So we have a complete psycho that has disturbed our lives in ways that we will be feeling for years to come. 

If you thought I was mean to Chit for fucking with her while she sleeps, then you haven’t seen nothing what Chat does. It took us about a week to bring the two together. Chit and also Chat are now friends. They sleep together, groom each other, steal one another's food, shit in the same box, and generally cause mayhem in our lives. 

I know I said Chit was a proper cat. But that was a lie. Chit has destroyed my carpets, my couch, my top comforter, and all the strings to every single hoodie I own. All of them. She is a complete nightmare walking. I cut her nails, we have scratching posts all over the house, but she refuses to use them. I fucking hate her. 

No matter where Chit is, Chat will stalk her in a way that only a two pound kitten can do, unsteadily. Chat will creep up and then run at full speed and launch herself into Chit. I find it crazy that Chit is so gentle with Chat. She could easily knock her into next month but I’ve seen Chit actually run into a wall to avoid stepping on Chat. 

The other day, remember, Chat has only been in our house for five weeks, Chit must have gotten tired of the smell because Chat hasn’t learned to groom herself. Chit ran over and forced her to the floor, and started cleaning her from nose to tail. “N” and myself were cheering her on by saying, “clean her butthole, teach her to clean her butthole”. And Chit being a proper cat, did just that. No more smelly Chat. Boom, kind of a Friends reference, some regrets. 

“N” was hoping when he brought Chat home, that he would finally get a cat of his own to shadow him all over the house. He took off four days to make sure I was at work so she would bond with him. He demanded that only he be the one to feed her. After the first day was over, and I was heading into work, the moment the door shut behind me, Chat started crying at the door and did so for the rest of the day. When I get home, Chat comes running to me no matter what she is doing. 

So now I have two cats, Chit and Chat, sleeping on my face. Chat is learning that if she smacks me in the face during the night, she will get head rubs too. I now get woken up in shifts, one for Chit, and one for Chat. Believe me, I thank my husband every morning by waking him up when they wake me up. It's a game we love to play. A game that has evolved into my husband threatening to move into the guest room if I insisted on playing it with him. We so love to kid each other. 

 

Where was I? That’s right. I’m happy.

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Just as good as ever.  Yours is the only blog that guarantees me a laugh when I start to read it.

I always worried about your dugged-up-iveness.  So happy you quit that.  But replacing it with cats?  Now I question your sanity.

Dogs are much better.  And won't stain the carpets.  Trust me.

C

 

 

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I'm married so I actually have no say in anything that happens in my house. The only solace I get is in the kitchen. That's my domain and mine alone, unless you count Chit and Chat dogging me at all times. But I digress. I get to decorate and purchase anything I want for the kitchen. Makes you wonder why I'm over a healthy weight now, its the only time I get any respite. Thank you Cole. And dogs suck a bit less than cats. 

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Much less.  We have a dog.  As your cats are smitten with you, our dog stays close to my partner all day everyday, and when there's reason to be out and about, the dog whines until the inevitable return peps him up again.  It's funny, really, and I don't have to bother with the feeding or yard cleanup this way.  Works a treat.

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Jason, so glad to see you still full of piss and vinegar.  If I could I'd give your old bald head a noogie to express my joy.  But any neat-freak like you are is nuts to have cats.

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