Of Pet Lips and Royalty

Currently in the presence of two cats and a dog, all three and staring at me. It's a little nerve-wracking, as they all seem to be waiting for me to do something. Part of me is concentrating on tooling around the Internet, another part is trying to think of something to do that will satisfy the expectations of my pets. The little fuckers are judging me.

Of course, that's all in my head. I'm pretty sure that they don't care what I do, so long as I feed them and pat their little heads and keep fresh water in a bowl for them to dip their lips in. Cat lips. Dog lips. Two species of lips.

Last night I curled up between Nancy, various pets, and the wall. In the middle of the night I heard a door slam below my bedroom window, in the courtyard someplace, and awoke with a start. My head lurched forward, slamming my nose into the wall. These things happen. They say everything happens for a reason. Although the reason is rarely clear to anyone.

I'm starting to get excited about the royal wedding, although I couldn't tell you why. The media just keeps stokin' the fire, insisting that this marriage is just so damn fucking awesome. One can't help but wonder what this couple must be like when at home, in private. They're probably a couple of insufferable assholes, but it's impossible to know for sure. If I had that kind of 24/7 attention, I'd be royalty all right...I'd be the King of the Pricks (instead of just a common prick).

In an attempt to be social, I'm starting to talk to my neighbors more often. These compulsions lead to misery. Now, pulling into my parking space causes a severe anxiety attack as I attempt to steal into my flat unnoticed. A sad state of affairs.

Annie is getting antsy. Time for a walk. Wish me luck as I attempt to avoid throngs of neighborhood children, all of whom know Annie very well. They run over like paparazzi to Jackie Onassis or Angelina Jolie. Few know my name. I'm the guy who walks Annie. Suits me fine!