Magic Bunny Princess Boy

The hard part was not finding someone who wanted to adopt Steve.
It's like asking "Who wants..."

"one million dollars?"
"a doughnut?"
"to watch Walker, Texas Ranger?"

Everyone. That's who.

The hard part was finding someone who would be as obsessively devoted to him as I have become. As well as, appreciate that Freddie Mercury overbite he displays so beautifully.

So when Rebecca, my lovely coworker from the animal hospital, said that she would be interested in having him over for what we told her fiance, Ryan, was a "temporary sleepover party," I was so so happy.

And so so sad.

How could I not be? Look...
But I have fully accepted that this could not have worked out any better. Rebecca is the best. And adores the fact that Steve enjoys lounging in dirty laundry.

And so, the last few days have been spent diagnosing Steve with as many ailments as we could think up, to further endear him to Ryan. Here is what we have come up with as of this afternoon...
Mind you, we have doctor's notes...

Lupus.
Oral deformation.
Pemphigus (look it up).
Autism.
Deafness.

We're pretty sure it's working. And if it doesn't....

Well, then we'll just have to tell him about how cute Steve was when he yawned today.
That should do it.

Oh Steve, you little Lupus Baby Shark Sweetie. I can't wait to see you next weekend.
Joint custody, ya'll.
PS Ryan, pay no mind to this blog. Seriously, its just a temporary sleepover party.

I Never Knew

I was so good at dance moves.

Thank, Tim.

So There's This Girl

I jut got back from a delicious meal of bison burger with the lovely Melissa B. It was a make-up dinner of sorts, as I had missed the absinthe-induced, pizza-scraping, private bar extravaganza that was her birthday.

We laughed as we sipped Arnold Palmers and spoke of pheromones, Martinelli's, Lil' Kim, and other top secret subjects.

The topic of cats came up, as it usually does when we are together. She gave me the updates on
Nico's diabetes
Poos' new toupee business
and, of course, Bootsie's puking schedule.

Coming from anyone else, it be equivalent to hearing about my Aunt Cecil's bunyons. But when Melissa speaks of cats, it's the most profoundly captivating information I've heard since they told me where babies come from.

"Melissa, I love all the cats in your life."

She shrugged and made her life's declaration.

"I love all the cats in the world."

Sigh.

I would just like to take a moment and publicly appreciate Melissa. My sincerest condolences if you haven't had the pleasure to spend 5 minutes with her. Because that's all it would take for you to fall madly in love with her, or at the very least, completely reexamine your horribly inadequate wardrobe.

I could write a sonata about the way she looks in a dress, and I don't even play for that team. At least, I don't think I do. Melissa will make you reexamine that, as well.

She's perfectly unaware of her perfection.

A girl's girl and any boy with half a brain's dream.

One minute she's the classiest broad you ever met, and the next she's sitting in the gutter with you sharing a taco from the truck.

If you need a murder themed cake, help putting leotards on puppies, or just someone to share buffalo with, she's your ace.

How could you not love this girl? I sure do.