catrimony

I’m being hounded by weddings, married people, pregnant people, happy people—people who I have basically nothing in common with because I’m perpetually miserable, want misery for others, and would prefer to choke a kid rather than play with one.

At one point not too long ago, I was talking about marrying myself.  I found an awesome ring (raw diamond—affordable beauty) and was fairly positive I would say yes if I asked myself.  Things have changed, however, and I’m such an asshole to be around lately that even I don’t want to spend five minutes with myself.  A whole day with myself seems like a lifetime and explains my drinking habits of late.  So, while I hate myself and shower in booze and self-deprecation as often as possible, I love cats and I would support cat weddings and feline happiness.

I have to note that in my rigorous research for this post I discovered a stunning absence of photos of cats wearing wedding attire.  There’s my first million—check please.  Second million—officiating cat weddings.

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