Last night, my cat Lola was yelling at me. This is not an uncommon occurrence. Lola hasn’t stopped shrilly meowing at me since I brought her home. Her voice has gotten a little raspier over the years – I suspect it wasn’t made to be used as much as she has used it in her 12 years.
We had a small disagreement in bed last night and I called Lola, “Bitch ass.” Had you been there, you would have agreed her behavior was total bitch ass.
A moment later, Andrea asked, “Remember that Christmas eve when your cousin got bombed and made that hot ass soup? “ And by hot, she meant spicy.
“I thought of that because you called Lola ‘bitch ass’ and it reminded me of your cousin’s cat, Bitch Kitty, whom I’d never met and is dead. We couldn’t even eat the soup!” We both laughed. I recall my cousin telling an off color joke and my Uncle’s face reddening. I wish I could think of the joke but I’ve always been bad at that. I recall it had something to do with balls and my uncle failed to see the humor in it.
“Then we were going to go to the midnight church service, but when we went outside, your mom’s car had been egged.”
It was clearly a random egging, but it was incredibly cold outside so the eggs had frozen in a smear. Mom was pissed which only made me laugh inappropriately.
This is the reason getting together with people is fun for me – it gives me blog material. For Thanksgiving this year, we brought my mom (aka The Bertinator) to our home and back via car. The Sunday of her visit here, Andrea had football on and my mom remarked, “Nebraska?! Who are they playing?” Andrea eyed her with derision and said, “NEBRASKA?!” While I pointed out to my mom that New England was playing – not Nebraska. Clearly, my knowledge and intuition of sports must be hereditary.
Andrea and I will be spending the Christmas holiday together - with Bitch Ass and our other pets.