So many of you have been desperate for Finn and Toby stories, and I swear I’m not being a beesh about it, they just…do their Finny and Tobes THING and I don’t think it’s worthy of an entry because it’s boring to me at this point because Jeebus Effing Christ, how long can I describe cats fighting with each other before someone gets bored? I mean, come on.
Anyhoodle, there are the kittens. Who aren’t really kittens anymore, they’re more like full grown kitties, and just as bad as you can imagine. Okay, okay. Imagine the baddest naughtiest cat. Then multiply it by a BAZILLION. That’s how bad Finn and Toby are. It’s preposterous. And lots of other 10 cent words I can barely spell.
Do you want to know how bad they are? Because I am ready to tell you. Okay. So there’s Finn. The ginger bastard. And he likes WREAKING HAVOC upon my coffee table. If there’s a Thing? On the coffee table? Boy howdy, Finn’s there to whack it onto the floor. He’s vair vair proud of this. because he’s a bastard.
The other thing Finny does is hop on my chest. OH BUDDY HE LOVES THAT. He hops right on my chest and sits right down and I say “NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW” and shove him right off, and the static electricity kills us both dead. Or I allow him to sit on my chest and I pretend like I can see the computer, which I completely cannot, and we all live in a land of confusion, like Phil Collins said.
Then there’s Toby. Oh Jeebus, then there’s Toby. You see, there’s no middle ground when it comes to the Tobes. It’s all “MY ASS IS IN YOUR FACE DON”T YOU ENJOY MY ASS IN YOUR FACE WHOO HOO MY ASS. IT”S IN YOUR FACE YEE HAW.” Seriously, the ass. It’s in your face. Don’t even try to shove it violently away, it will come back. Much like a mattress spring, once you boing Toby off your chest, he will be RIGHT BACK shoving his ass in your face. And if you try to shove him violently off of you? All his bones will vanish and he’ll become the Blob, just rolling all over your computer like a psychotic worm. It’s super-awesome.
Many people have begged for Finny and Tobes pictures. But you have to realize the only time I’m able to write about them is when they’re eating, and even then it’s frantic, because you never know when their asses will be back in my face, parading around like they don’t have a care in the world, and I swear I have pictures, but I am peering over a feline right now and it’s terribly hard to type and I’m only one person, dammit.
Ahem. So that’s the state of the cats. Lulu remains nonplussed, deeply NOT CARING about anything the boys do, but boy howdy do I have incriminating pictures, and as soon as I can regain use of my arms you’ll get them.
The end. For now. I totally can’t see the screen, so I’m hoping Sr. Virgina’s typing classes you know, stuck.