Things have been steadily boring lately which is actually a good thing. No drama, no problems, no bull shit. My cat has fleas, though. She's getting the flea dip treatment and I've quarantined her to my guest bathroom with her food and kitty litter because I've done the flea thing before with a different cat. Three times I had to flea bomb my apartment. THREE TIMES. I will. not. do. it. again. Her sad little meows disgust me. And so does the fact that I've locked my poor Brownie in a bathroom; but right now she's a bug ridden flea bag and I will not bomb my apartment again.
On another note, Saints and Vikings. September 9th. Season opener. I'm getting tickets and by God, wouldn't you know it; September 9th is my 22nd birthday. I've been reading the trash talk tweets between Sharper and Shiancoe, and it gave me a lady boner. Favre has had the surgery so it's safe to say he'll be back which also gives me a lady boner. I conveniently live in Who Dat nation, so a month leading up to the season opener, I'll proudly display my horns and Minnesota Vikings wardrobe and once again become one of the most hated residents in the greater New Orleans area.
Now I am all out of things to say. AMF.