Kitten Assassins and the Return of the Slinky

Sigh.

My God, I love kittens so much. I wouldn't mind being assassinated by a kitten. I really wouldn't. It would be a quick death, and there would be kittens involved. The only thing that would make it even better would be if Jesus turned out to be a kitten. That'd be awesome. Jesus was a feline, but that was edited out of the Bible because everyone was embarrassed by it. And a bit ashamed.

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving yesterday! I know I did. (Ha ha ha.) I heard Obama pardoned two turkeys from being slaughtered and eaten for Thanksgiving dinner. Oh, yes, very funny, Obama. I bet all of the prisoners lining up for death row just loved that.

For Thanksgiving, I worked a lot. Then I ate food, and then I ate pie. Then a few hours passed. Then for dinner, I ate a turkey sandwich and some more pie. Then, about fifteen minutes later, I ate more pie. Two hours later, I caved and ate some more pie. Then I went to bed. Then, at about 12:15 at night, I woke up, went downstairs, and ate some more pie. Then I cried because I couldn't stop.

How was your Thanksgiving?

The title of this post is "Kitten Assassins and the Return of the Slinky." I've already covered the kitten assassins part with that photo of a kitten with a gun pointed out the window and a caption explaining my bizarre obsession with little kittens doing cute things. Then I mentioned "the Return of a Slinky." That implies that the slinky has at one point in the month and three days since I got it left my hands. This is a lie.

That slinky means the world to me. If I was meat, the slinky would be my salt. If I was a pancake, it would be my syrup. If I was a baby, that slinky would be my binky. If I was an elderly, single man, that slinky would be my Vi...never mind. No, I wasn't about to say Viagra! I was going to say...uh...violin! Old single men play the violin a lot! It's true! Look it up! I read it in a book.

I never part from it. I could not survive without it. I'm addicted. It's the truth.

Unfortunately, it also feeds the minute, ADHD side of me.

This morning I needed to make breakfast. I walked downstairs, (with my slinky), and got some bread from the bag with my free hand. It took me about a minute and a half to get the bread into the toaster, because I was so busy watching my slinky. When I finally got it in, I was playing with my slinky for three minutes while the bread toasted. Once it popped out and I had to spread jelly on it, I had absolutely no willpower to put the jelly on the bread. I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

I stood there for ten minutes with my slinky before I could bring myself to spread the jelly.

It's sad. I need help.



Are you freaked out that a 5'11 high schooler is still playing with a slinky and is excited about it? Are you thinking bad things about me, mama?

Happy Thanksgiving-Was-Yesterday!

Cheers,
That Blond Guy