Jason Rimbaud

Sent email. Thank you. J

Hello All, I have a short Christmas story. It's 42 pages and about 15K words. Even though I have re-written the story four times, I feel like it's still disjointed. So not only am I looking for an editor for the numerous mistakes, I also want someone to give me some advice on the narrative as well. That could be one person or two. If anyone is interested let me know. I appreciate all the help I can get as I really like this story but I'm not sure if its good or not. J

I want to be the cowboy! J

I won a free trail when I ordered 4K worth of kitchens supplies for my new restaurant. I only really listened to Old Time Radio Channel. After my free three months, I cancelled it. I only live ten minutes walking from my work and realized I was never in the car long enough to warrant paying for the service, But I do miss those old radio shows.

I own a Jeep Compass and the clock did not change itself. And its a 2020, so its not an old one. Go Jeeps!!!!

Everyone knows that microwaves aren't real Camy...crazy bird

Can we see this "male member" so we can judge for ourselves? Asking for a friend...

Its been forever since I read this story. You are so right. Thoroughly enjoyable.

So we have been open for a month. And I know the pandemic has been heartless for countless small businesses around the world. Thousands of restaurants have closed forever, who knows how many people are out of work due to these closures. So it might have been foolish on the surface to open a new restaurant at this particular time. But we did. I am also saddened by the damage that has been done to the San Francisco restaurant/hospitality scene. A lot of my friends lost everything and it is heartbreaking. The only good thing, after two years, those friends that moved away are slowly moving back. “N” and I were standing outside our restaurant a few days before we opened kicking around ideas on how to get the word out that we have the best damn wings in San Francisco, when we saw a group of middle schoolers, about ten to twelve boys, walking down the sidewalk. He pointed out the group and said, “there goes our lunch crowd in a few weeks.” We watched as the group of middle schoolers suddenly took off running as a group across the lawn towards a single middle schooler. As a group, they jumped the single kid and started kicking him and punching him. Then they stole his shoes and his bag and took off running down the street causing several cars to come to a sudden stop. I turned to him and said, “maybe we should make them order to-go only.” So I have gone the entire pandemic without catching Covid. I have been working steadily and have been around people the entire time. Covid has run rampant through both of our restaurant groups. Between all our locations, when i was working for someone else, had about 40 cases in the three locations. “N’s” restaurant group has had more cases than I could count. He also had three deaths related to Covid. It’s been a hard two years on that front. “N” and I were talking yesterday about how lucky we were to escape Covid as we have been working with the public since day one. Our entire circle of friends have had it at some point. So I brought up that we might have had Covid but never had symptoms. He shrugged and finished his Mojito. Why doesn’t underwear come with a warning label, “might cause pregnancy.” Does anyone have a favorite color for their undies? Mine is red. I have upwards of twenty pairs of red undies alone. For some reason, and my husband agrees, my thingy looks great in red. Briefs, boxers, jocks, Mr. S Leathers, any type really. By the way, Mr. S Leathers, a San Francisco original has some of the best fetish accessories I’ve ever seen. Prices are a bit on the high side but the upside, you get really good quality. Which brings me to the subject of toys. Does anyone like to use toys in your relationship? I do. I have about a hundred little metal cars that I force my husband to play with me. He doesn’t like to but I guess it’s better than seeing me cry. I’ve been creating my own personal Christmas Village for the last few years. Building houses out of balsa wood, popsicle sticks, and plywood. I find it very relaxing to build, paint, and construct my perfect little Pennsylvania town. I have chocolate shops, Santa’s workshop, reindeer barns, ice skating ponds, colored sand to mimic ice and snow. And a Mr. S Leather store, complete with tiny dildo’s in the windows. “I’m getting rid of Britta, getting rid of the “B”, she is a “GDB”. For the last few months I’ve realized that without a real direction in my life, I tend to ramble on about underwear. I really don’t think we spend enough time focusing on underwear as a culture. Underwear has so many uses. Support, keep your junk nice and tight while running. The right type of material can help keep you dry and itch free for your twigs and berries. Boxers for that loosie goosie feeling for your peen. Boxer Briefs to keep your bulge, well, bulging. Jockstrap to show off your ass in the gym. Thongs to get your partner boned up in a hurry. In my sluttier days, I wore different types of underwear based on the mission I had for that particular evening. Jockstraps were for dancing in the club and showing off my goods. If you saw me in the club wearing a jockstrap, then I was ready for some fun in the downstairs bathroom. Boxers are only used for sleeping. A practice I learned from Jason all those years ago. Boxer Briefs are always my go to style to make my bulge look good in jeans. Briefs are the perfect accompaniment for sweat pants and T-Shirts. And no, I don’t work at Mr. S Leathers. I’m just a fan of their products. Mr-S-Leather Explicit Content Beware!

My haunts were Stallions, it was a three level nightclub/bar in downtown Harrisburg. Brownstone was a great neighborhood bar, great go go boys and underwear night. 704 was a video lounge. Though this was all twenty odd years ago so who knows when you might have frequented Harrisburg.

It was in a small town call Fredericksburg, Pa, the name of the place, Donna's Fredericksburg Hotel. It was a local bar that served bar food. I had a lot of good times in that place. Fredericksburg Eagle Hotel Here is the current version of where I use to work. Wow, a lot of things have changed. Its more of a biker bar now. But this brings back memories I'd rather forget.

The Saga of the Wings I'm sure will be mostly what I ramble on about for the next while. Well, wings and underwear.

After Twenty Years...I Just Did This So I’ve been in the restaurant/hospitality business for over twenty years. And I can’t believe that after twenty years, I just did this. And before I go into what life changing craziness I just decided to embark on, let me tell you about my writing. Some years back, I lost the memory stick that contained all my writings for the last thirty years. And yes, not only did it hold all my stories, notes, outlines, it also contained all my work notes that I had gathered over the years. I’m not sure which hit me harder, the writings or all the content I had created that I used on the daily for work. So I decided to gather all my writings into google sheets to ensure I never again lose my tattered attempts at writing. I have already lost way too much due to losing memory sticks, crashing computers, and random acts of god. And in this attempt to make sure I got literally everything I ever wrote/posted online, I went back to 2002 and took everything I wrote for Nifty. And as I was copying those stories, I made the mistake of actually reading them. Have you all seen this trend of people reacting to things on YouTube? If I wasn’t so bald and fat I would so do a reaction video of myself reading those “stories”. Talk about bac, I can’t believe I once thought those stories were gold. In my defense, at the height of my online posting, I was getting up to fifty emails a day with these little stories. So more than a few people fed into this delusion. I even won a few readers choice awards. Trust me, in no way am I defending these “stories”. Trust me, I won’t even tell you the name I once wrote under. That’s how embarrassed I am about the words I wrote and posted all those years ago. And it wasn’t Jason Rimbaud so don’t bother checking. I’ve been in the restaurant/hospitality pretty much my whole life. I started as a bartender at twenty-one in a redneck bar in the backwoods of Pennsylvania and somehow moved up over the years to where I’ve worked for several celebrity chefs and amazing start-ups that are still flourishing even through the pandemic. I’ve opened seven restaurants for other people and have been on the ground floor of one of the fastest growing brands in the San Francisco Bay Area. As a writer, something I love doing, I’ve only really attempted to write full time back in the early 2000’s. I took four years and all I did was try and get published. And yes, I managed to get my stories in a few anthologies, a few poetry books over the years but I was never really good enough to break into the big time. I think my biggest issue, at least back then, my stories had such a small targeted audience. I write gay fiction. Well, I once wrote slash gay fiction but that’s another story all together. Gay fiction isn’t really burning up the charts and unless you manage to find work at a streaming service. But I never really wanted to write for a show, my love has always been books/novels. I will admit for the last fifteen years or so, I haven’t really focused that much on writing. A few years ago, I had almost finished a book about an alien invasion in Washington State, real end of the world stuff. And then my memory stick fell out of my shoulder bag and I ran over it a few times. I have since tried to recreate the story but I could never get it right. It was over five years work lost in a single moment. And that bummed me out. I thought I was destined to work in a restaurant for the rest of my life. But then something happened a few weeks ago that would change my life forever. Some of you know that I’m married. And “N” is also in the restaurant/hospitality industry. But he hates it. So two years ago he started going back to school to get a degree in accounting. And he did, a month ago he graduated with honors with his bachelor degree all the while he worked a full time job. And once he graduated, “N” and I were talking about the next steps. We spend a boatload of money on his degree and he really wants a job where he can use it. The biggest problem we both face, we have been successful in restaurants. And for those of you that don’t really understand what that means, let me explain. When you reach a certain point in your career, no matter what your field is, you have a track record of success. And people pay extremely well for that track record. I know people are complaining about the restaurant/hospitality industry not paying well. But if you have the right resume, you can make really good money. Especially when you’re offered profit sharing. Both of us have been wanting to leave the restaurant industry for some time. But we had been so successful that if we were to make a move on a fresh career, we’d have to take a dramatic pay cut. As much as fifty thousand a year. And we have worked way too hard to make a life for ourselves, that going back isn’t a viable option. We aren’t rich by any standard. We live in the most expensive city in the country, so if you don’t make at least one hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year, you’re living paycheck to paycheck. But we are comfortable. In my spare time, I have been collecting all my old writing. An hour here, an hour there, while maintaining a very stressful opening for my restaurant group. One of my old stories caught my attention. It’s a love story set on St. Martin, with a small little hook that I thought wasn’t that bad. Not the writing, it was horrible. But the overall plot was kind of cool. And in my reading, instead of copying and pasting, for some reason I decided to transcribe it instead. This led me to actually rewrite the entire thing from top to bottom. It was around 120 pages originally and now it’s a bit more. I am working on another draft as we speak so I don’t know where the final word count will end. But I’m having the time of my life. After one stressful day, I was complaining to “N” about how much energy I’m putting into this latest opening. And how I’m getting frustrated in making other people money. And yes they pay me for all my energy, but at the end of the day, the owner benefits way more than I do when I successfully open a new location. “If you don’t like it, why don’t you quit.” That was “N’s” sage advice. So I replied, “And do what? Go work for someone else?” “You’ve opened a billion restaurants for other people, why don’t we open our own?” For anyone who has read my musing, you know that I love super spicy hot wings. I have been known to drive 45 minutes to San Jose so I can get my 4 Alarm Hot Wings from SmokeEaters. I have literally been to every wing place in the San Francisco Bay Area trying their “hot” wings. And besides SmokeEaters, I have always been disappointed. So over the last ten years or so, I have been creating my own spicy wing sauces. I have perfected that art of cooking chicken wings and have some amazing sauces that I think are better than anyone’s currently in San Francisco. “Why don’t we open our own?” Fuck yeah, so that’s what I did. As of June 1st, we are now business owners. We have been opened for the last three weeks and I’m having the time of my life. “N” and I have decided to take our future in our own hands. So now when I’m working eighty hours a week, it’s at least for myself and our future. LIfe is good.

Hmm, I understand the hot tub Emu, but why the time machine? My mind goes into weird places, like a time machine to go back and see me and my friend in the hot tub...or a time machine to go back and entice me into a hot tub...so many possibilities. 😜 I'm feeling silly today.

My cats, both of them, love to watch me play Red Dead Redemption 2. And each time they see an animal, they attack the screen. Good flash though. Why do we always jump to conclusion instead of just communicating with the other person. It would save a lot of stress and anxiety.

I've fallen for way too many straight guys for this to end well in my tiny brain. Good piece though.

My friends once tried to scare me like that. I was in the bathroom taking a shower and when I opened the door, two of them threw a blanket over my head and tried to tie me up. One busted lip and a black eye and it was over. I never liked surprises. I start swinging. Needless to say, both of those friends I still consider close to this day. Though I haven't hit either one of them in a long time.

My first experience with a hut tub in the winter time was in Pennsylvania, mid January, about four feet of snow on the ground. My "friend" and I would get hammered at the bar with our friends before rushing home and taking a soak. Always ended up with him sitting on the edge of the hot tub, a cigarette in one hand and my head in the other. I was always toasty warm in the water and he was always toasty warm in other ways! Good times.

Bad Bear!

Hahaha, I've run into that problem once. A person found some of my writings and was really upset that I described our time together. He brought it up to our mutual friends and was complaining about it. The problem was, none of my friends had read what I wrote about us, nor would they have known it was about him because I changed the name and the description. Boy was he embarrassed. If he had only kept his mouth shut no one would have known.

The full of piss and vinegar comment, is that in reference that I'm so old I have to wear adult diapers? J

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.

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.

Definitely one of my favorites. Great reading as well!