Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Bobcats


Not this kind of bobcat dummy.
Bobcats are like petite post-menopausal women. It’s a fact. If a bobcat gets ahold of your remote control you will be watching J.A.G. or The Mentalist or Judging Amy some other hour-long drama that you didn’t know was still on. A bobcat’s refrigerator contains foods that most folks take pride in finding inedible: bottles of different raspberry vinaigrettes, skim milk, mango salsa. The bobcat’s pantry is no better: an open box of Rosemary ‘n Tuscan Red Pepper flavored Triscuit triangles (stale), Folgers decaffeinated crystals, dates. A bobcat knows little about its compact car, but is still proud about getting a cd player installed in it nine years ago. Bobcats go to reggae festivals and drink wine there. Bobcats go to art openings wearing big kooky earrings and matching goofy necklaces. Bobcats are either really for or are really against gay cat marriage. Bobcats have ‘crazy eyes’ in photographs. Bobcats possess a thinly veiled furnace of hate for their neighbors’ dopey teenage son Brandon. Bobcats love loud sassy gay guys. Bobcats think they do a good job at covertly finding out whether their nieces are having sex or not, but they are wrong. Sometimes bobcats go to singles bars but leave because of all the rap music; “what happened to country line dancing bars,” the bobcat thinks on the lonely drive home with the radio off.
Goodness, I'm having hot flashes. I need some decaf ASAP!

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