Friday, August 7, 2009

Bob Marley, Defiant Kittens, and Automatic Litter Boxes

SB is crabby again today. Surprise! My ass is hungover, and I have a perpetual headache I can't seem to dislodge, even with the help of fucking Advil AND Excedrin. Maybe it was the Magic fucking Bullet lime dacquiris or maybe it was the red wine or maybe it was the Red Stripe. Who the fuck knows.

Half the people here at work today are off (the parking lot looked like a ghost town), and it's a beautiful motherfucking day, and I don't want to be here. But I do look stylish in my new Bob Marley ringer t-shirt and Jamaican soccer jacket. You dig, mon?

I have decided to become a Rastafarian like my hero, Bob, and his fine son, Ziggy, so I am dressing the part on casual Fridays. I may grow some dreads, mon. I ain't decided.

SB recently purchased a new self-cleaning litter box for the cats--it has a conveyer belt that removes the turds and clumps from the box after the cats go wee and poo--and it works pretty damn good. However, Bella (the new kitten) is into flipping her shit out of the box and rolling it around on the carpet like some sort of crazed David Beckham. When I squirt her ass with water, Bella just looks at me like: Is that all you've got, motherfucker? Bring it on! She is the most stubborn little fucker I have ever raised, and I've raised my share of moggys.

Also, Ginger the shit eater, considers the new auto-poo box a sort of revolving sushi buffet, and her ass came downstairs this morning with cat litter all stuck to her nose. I love her, but she is dumber than shit. No pun intended. The canine species as a whole have really notched down, in SB's opinion, in the old intelligence department since Ginger has come into my life. You just ain't very bright when you consider shit a delicacy. That's an empirical truth, motherfuckers. Also, every time I let that bitch out, she runs over to the neighbor's side of the house to try and eat the cat food they have set out for their outdoor cats.

In the middle of the goddamn night, SB, who is semi-coherent at best when awakened, must run over to the neighbor's side of the house, in the dark, in my damn boxer shorts and yell at Ginger to get her fucking ass back to her side of the yard. Yes, the neighbours love me. And so does Jesus. THIS I KNOW.


Indigo said...

Love the new header. I gave up on the self cleaning litter box. My youngest cat would jump in just to activate it. She did it so much she burnt the motor out after only having it for a couple months. I still haven't found a viable solution with 4 inside cats.

Bob there is someone who brings back memories. (Hugs)Indigo

Sarcastic Bastard said...

This litter box continually revolves very slowly.

You are one of my favorite people, and I am happy to hear from you. I hope all is well.

Thanks for reading, and enjoy the weekend.

Love, SB.

Lou said...

Just don't kill the deputy, SB.

(but you can shoot the sheriff).

Ms. Moon said...

Well this I know- your neighbors and Jesus may love you but not as much as I do.
So there.
Put that in your rasta pipe and smoke it.

Sarcastic Bastard said...

Lou & Ms. Moon,
I love you two fabulous broads!

downtown guy said...

Rastafarianism: so beloved by hippies, and yet so violently, insanely homophobic.

Sarcastic Bastard said...

I know about that. But not all Rastas are homophobes, mon. I not. There all kinds of Rastas anymore, mon. Most Rastas don't drink alcohol, but they smoke the ganja, mon. But I no smoke the weed. Ya dig?

Have a great weekend. Love ya.


downtown guy said...

You may not be, but Rastafarianism is sick with it, which is why Jamaica's the worst place in the Americas for LGBT folks. I mean, 10 years hard labor for consenting gay sex. A standard theme of shoot, burn, or beat "batty boys" in Rasta reggae. Fathers encouraging others to brutalize their own sons for being gay. It's nasty and it's part and parcel with Rastafarianism these days (and the local Christianity, for what it's worth).

Now, I loves me some old school ska, pre-Rasta reggae, bluebeat, and rocksteady. Don't get me wrong. But there's just no defending the Rasta culture to me as long as "I'm a dreaming of a new Jamaica, come to execute all the gays" is the song that's being sung.

Findon said...

Rasta cats, now there's a thought. Hangovers I never experienced really, maybe thats why you and I are just so slightly different. Instead of being drunk all the time I could have cultivated that unique look on life you have. It's really special, I love it. Mind you I love being sober too, so I guess we sort of balance each other out.

Cindy said...


Brother Frankie said...

Ginger the shit eater..

that was me when i did drugs..

i would walk in the house, the wife (now ex) would say what have you been up to.. i would say nuttin

and i would have coke all over my face.. might as well been kitty litter, i can relate..

and yes, you are correct, Jesus loves you.

be blessed
Brother frankie
a biker for christ.

famous quote from bother frankie, "its not a stem, its a glass party favor, im thinking about collecting them as a hobby"

Sarcastic Bastard said...

We do indeed balance each other out.

I love you. Thanks for reading me!


Sarcastic Bastard said...

Brother Frankie,
That was funny.

Jesus loves you and so does SB!