So, the other night, I was minding my own sticky beeswax, when my husband, Chris, walked in room and initiated this exchange:
Chris: So... can we talk about how I just accidentally peed on the kitten?
See, this is the deal. Chris and I did some kitten-sitting during the long holiday weekend. We got to spend several days loving on this little rascal (who actually is named Rascal):
That fluffbucket is so adorable that he literally has a heart on it's arse. (No, really, did you see that little white furry heart on his backside?) And what does my husband do? He pisses on it. Not the heart. The cat. Yup. The man I chose to be my life partner coated a kitten with piss.
Now, in fairness to Chris, he wasn't trying to moisturize this mighty mouse-catcher. (That alliteration felt a bit forced, didn't it? God dammit. Oh well. It's already been typed. Can't do nothing about it now.)
Again, in fairness to Chris, he was trying to avoid said moisturizing. But Rascal just wasn't having it. Every time Chris went to use the restroom, that little turd raced right up to the toilet and thrust his head forward into the bowl just as Chris's yellow arc was introducing itself to gravity. In other words, that kitten kept pushing his head in Chris's piss.
But when I said, "Again?" in response to Chris telling me he had pissed on a kitten, it wasn't because he had pissed on this kitten again. I said, "Again?," because he's previously pissed on a different kitten.
My husband has pissed on a different cat.
That's Mycroft when we brought him home three years ago.
And since I've just shared Mycroft's dorky pre-teen pic, it's only fair that I share one of mine, so he won't be embarrassed alone:
Now, you might notice there's something familiar about Mycroft after having seen a picture of Rascal.
Need a bigger hint?
Check out this:
That bitty baby is Rascal, and that fat fucker is adult Mycroft.
And since I've just shared Mycroft's grainy glutton pic, it's only fair that I share one of mine, so he won't be embarrassed alone:
Anyway, back to the point, which is this: Chris peed on Mycroft several times when we first brought him home, because Mycroft, too, kept pushing his head in the path of the piss. Then, three years later, we found ourselves kitten-sitting another black-and-white tuxedo cat who could effectively pose as Mycroft's mini-me, and the pissing on the pussies started up again. Keep in mind, Chris has never peed on our calico, Khaleesi, who looked like this --
-- so it's now painfully obvious that Chris is somehow biased against (or oddly attracted to, if the golden shower fetish is actually a thing of my man's) black and white cats.
So, anyway, that's what's going on in the Rigby household. I'm just over here learning that my man has cross-species urinary urges. Anything new with y'all?
(P.S. What about the main image with this post? The gold-colored shower head? Golden showers! Get it? I know, I am hilarious.)
True story: Life would be super swell if we all embraced our OMG side instead of living a Facebook-friendly existence. So, let it out. Have you ever let somebody piss on you? Or perhaps more interestingly, have you ever been the pisser-on-er? You know, where you're the one who does the whizzing? Or does this whole thing make you want to proverbially run to the proverbial hills? And are those proverbial hills alive with the proverbial sound of the proverbial music? Is it time for me to stop typing now? Yes, actually. Yes, it is. Feel free to disclose details. You're safe here.