What do you mean it’s August? The hell? How do these things happen?
It’s true I’ve been rather distracted lately by hosting guests for their own wedding and visiting New Orleans on a retail spree and competing with the cats to see who can sleep the most in one day, but that doesn’t excuse missing two important (to me, and who else counts?) anniversaries in July.
The first was Saki, the Evil and Adorable cat’s birthday, his seventh, on July 7. Yes, 7/7/07 and now it’s number seven, so maybe this year will be lucky for him. Having ripped up both white leather chairs in the living room, he is now turning his attention to converting the back guest room into a spare cat box, so he’s probably going to need all the luck he can get if I catch him pooping in there one more time.
And my blog, this title piece of heaven, also turned seven a few days ago, but again, I was sleeping, so, oops. In case you wondering, here is the first post, from all those long years ago:
But who is mrpeenee?
I’m a nice guy, that’s who. I hide it successfully under a mask of brittle bitterness, but I would be happy to save orphan kittys and old ladies from burning buildings if I just weren’t so darn busy downloading porn and staring out the window. My long suffering lover, R Man, and I live in San Francisco where I work for the federal government making wildly inaccurate statements to the press and running the training program for entrepreneurs for the SBA here. I am occasionally surprised to realize how respectable I am.
I grew up in Texas, but never understood what white trash I am until I left. How was I supposed to know nice people didn’t put mayonnaise on their French fries?
I gotta go.
So seven years later and all I’ve learned is how to include photos of muscly young men. Hmm.