Seriously why do I have a cat named Phil that lives in my house? What does he do? He's a G-damn professional napper and class A moocher. Has he NO concept of personal space? Can't he take an effing hint? We let Gabriel harass the crap right out of him. Sam chases him around with the vacuum and I barely tolerate his presence. I resent all the hair. That damn hair that I clean up every freakin' day from every freakin' place including my damn ass crack! G-damn cat. I'm sitting here typing you a hate letter and you have the audacity to rub yourself on MY computer for love and comfort. You are so in my space. If you were any closer to me we would bond molecularly. Why on earth do you want to get your ten minutes of affectioin you requre per day from ME?!?!?! There are other people in this house, and lot's of stuffed things for you to intermingle with. So step the fuck off Phil, it's been a hell of a coulpe of weeks and your need for a good petting isn't even on my list.
