Tired Of These Motherfucking Fleas In My Motherfucking Apartment

Long time readers/friends may know this about me, but for those that don't...I used to be severely Anti-Pet. Well, mostly anti-dog, but seriously...people's dogs tended to annoy me. I have a shattered kneecap and when dogs jump up on me I get pretty apprehensive about it.

Well about a year ago, I became a Proud Pet Owner. I have two beautiful tuxedo cats named Betty & Veronica. I didn't name them, so don't give me shit. I just kept the names because Fuck You, they're adorable. Veronica Mars (cuz I'm a Kristen Bell fan) and Betty White-Nose (cuz she has a little white nose and Betty White fucking rules). They've changed my life completely for the better and they've warmed my heart to people's pets and animals in general.

Problem was, they came with fucking fleas.

It's an embarrassing problem and I have so little experience with this that I had no idea what the fuck to do. It's so bad that Miss Veronica has a sore on the back of her neck that will barely heal cuz she's scratching it all the damn time. It's heart breaking and I feel like shit. I should be better than this.

I'm pretty sure I lost out on the girl of my fucking dreams because I've been too embarrassed to have her over. Well, that and I'm a broke fucking loser and I have emotional problems...but that's MY Personal Hell.

Enough is e-fucking-nough. I've got plans to see some friends play in Ybor City, so I bathed them with Flea Shampoo (it says dog & puppy and I hope it doesn't make them sick) and it seemed to be pretty effective. They're staying at a good friend's place over night and I packed all their shit up for the trip. They freaked out when they got there. I believe they're hiding under his bed, the little scaredy cats!

Tonight, it's Bombs Away!! Castle Discordia is pretty small so one bomb outta take care of it. Got tile floor and very little cloth furniture so no problems there. Mostly I'm just tired of everything being such a fucking hassle. But I gotta admit, it's worth it. I love them very very much. When I got fired from my last job, my only real concern was making sure I could take care of them. To the point that I bawled my fucking eyes out in public drunkenly making an ass of myself in McCabes Irish Pub (fucking assholes gave me tequila).

So I guess things should be alright. At least I hope so. And to top off the day, I ran over a stupid goddamn nail in my car port. That'll learn me to clean up the goddamn fucking wood pile. I'm such a fucking doofus.