It has become obvious of late that most people who read this diary do so in the hopes that I have had an unfortunate accident since the last posting. It’s nice to know that several thousand people from around the globe are rooting for my bad fortune.

Speaking of thousands, I checked my stats for this site today, and am closing in on my 4,000,000th hit. I’m not sure what to say about that, but I am amazed by it.

So here’s my plan for coming up with new material- eat several tablespoons of nutmeg, wash it down with a bottle of brake fluid, throw on a blindfold, and walk toward the sounds of construction equipment. How can that not be funny?

On Saturday night, my buddy CRam came over with his lovely wife Jacqueline and lovely daughter Ava. Ava smiled at me when she saw me and when I held her she played with my beard. Or beardlet- that bit of hair on my chin that has to stay because I have a scar there and if I shave it, it bleeds for weeks. Call it whatever you want.

In any case, since the blue-eyed gummy smile, I am helpless against the charms of Ava, and with the honorary title of “uncle”, I am entitled to spoil her. I started by giving her a tiny pink t-shirt that says “They Shake Me” on the front.

If anything is funnier than implying child abuse, I don’t know what it is.

Today over coffee, my bro (the infamous “Buttless Chap”) said that I had a talent for putting my foot in my mouth. It was particularly funny because I had done it twice already that day.

The first time was at another coffee shop. They had some pretty neato artwork adorning the walls, and when I ordered my coffee, I told the coffeeman that it was good that they were finally getting some decent art on their walls. If he was a detached coffee shop manager looking to impress customers, this might be understood as a compliment.

As luck would have it, the last art they had on display was his own.

I wasn’t about to backpedal and be dishonest about it. I had dug my hole, so I figured I’d go ahead and pull the sides in on top of me.

“Oh…sorry to hear that.”

I’d be willing to bet that my coffee contained more than the amount of human snot allowed by the FDA.

Later that day we were at PetSmart, and My bro and his ladyfriend were looking at the cats. The adoption fee was $115. I, of course, instantly had a vision of my own cat, except with dollar signs in her eyes.

So I asked the lady if she’d give me $115 for my cat, mentioning the fact that she was spayed and had her shots.

For some reason the lady got all fidgety and hostile.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure? She’s really dumb and ugly”

“No, we don’t purchase animals, sir.”

(I absolutely LOVE joking around with people when they’re not in on the joke. I love it like back pain and scabies.)

“Are you sure? She pukes all the time.”

“I wonder why.” (With a lift of the eyebrows, suggesting that maybe looking at my ugly face makes her vomit)

“Must be all the beer and pizza I’m feeding her.”

I’m not completely sure why that exchange made her mad, but let me assure the cat adoption lady that if I offended her in any way, she has no idea how much I don’t give a damn.

Wanna’ see possibly the gayest picture ever taken?

Really?

Yes, that is a fluffy cat named Queasy sniffing a butterfly (her standard attack for all insects), and I took the picture on my back porch last year.

Just to temper it, I’ll also include a picture of the same cat, taken from her explicit sex video.

Sweet dreams.

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