Let me try and explain this for you. We have a queen-sized bed. It’s a terrible bed, one we call the Bed of Forks due to the sprung springs that jut into your soft, fleshy parts when you try to sleep. And it’s turned cold here in Los Angeles, which means the cats like to sleep all over us and steal our warmth instead of our breath.

I sleep on the right side of the bed. Last night Taylor slept against my right thigh. Olive slept in between my legs. So I’m on my back, right leg bent at the knee, resting to the side. I have a cat between my legs and one in the crook next to my hip. Because the cats like to keep a space between themselves that you normally see when two straight men see a movie together, Cal needed a place higher up than usual on my body for sleeping. He chose to sleep on the right side of my chest, curling up from my underarm and resting his head and paws on my chest. I was under the blankets, so he was really sleeping on the blanket, on a mound of me. My boyfriend was covering the entire left side of my body. This is how we all fell asleep around two in the morning last night when I finished my book.

At about five in the morning I started getting warm. I was under three blankets, three cats and a boy, and I was starting to sweat. But I didn’t want to jostle all of the animals at once, as one of the four was likely to complain, and two of the four might scratch me. So I eased my legs out, weaving them between Olive and Taylor. But I did something wrong with my arms, and I scared Cal. It may have been in my sleepiness I had forgotten he was resting so close to my face. I might have mistaken him for another blanket or pillow, because if I had been in my right mind I might have moved him first before I tried rolling over on my side.

I scared Cal. And when I did this, he pooped. Cal pooped on me.

I wasn’t wearing a shirt.

And it was dark, so I didn’t know that I had been pooped on until I turned to my side and tried to go back to sleep.

With poop boobs.

If there was ever a moment where one of you found me sexy or desirable, or wanted to maybe find out what I looked like naked, I’m sorry that I forever destroyed any notion you had of me being kinda hot.

I took a very hot shower and even ran extra hard this morning, hoping to sweat out any Cal butt toxins that might have been absorbed through my skin for the fifteen seconds I had cat feces resting on my chest. But I’ll never be clean. I’ll never be truly clean again.

Dammit.

I accidentally saw an ER spoiler for this past week’s episode. I’m two weeks behind on TiVo with that show, and now I ruined this episode. And the same thing happened to me the last time ER had a huge episode. stee and I often joke about the voiceover guy for that show. “It’s an episode to write home to your parents about.”

“Next week, an ER so intense you’ll have severe abdominal cramping.”

“And a doctor learns what an entire medical community has been wondering, on an ER to laminate and carry in your wallet, for all time.”

“It’s an episode so moving, you’ll pass it down for generations until your trust fund bratty great grandkid blows it all on hookers and crank.”

“Next week, on ER, an episode that will test the entire staff, and will blow the shit out of your pants and onto your neighbor’s pants. That’s right. You will shit your best friend’s pants. It’s that good, people. It’s ER.”

Currently Reading

• Garner’s American Modern Usage

Finished

• Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers — So funny. If you can make it past the chapter on decay, you’re going to make it all the way through. But man, I had to look away every once in a while.
• Please Don’t Kill the Freshman — Read this in about an hour and a half. Everyone addicted to LiveJournals will enjoy this young adult novel about a girl trying to survive high school. Makes me wish I kept a diary back then, and didn’t give everything I wrote to whatever boy I was crushing on at the time.
• 40 Watts From Nowhere — I had no idea how many articles I had read of Jane before I stopped reading it until I could remember every article this woman was talking about working on while running her pirate radio station. Yeah, she does mention other articles she’s written much more often than she focuses on the perks of running a pirate radio station. It’s more about the hassle of running pirate radio, and the sloppiness of DJ’s, and a little dirt on some rockstars. But it’s set in my neighborhood and was a fun, quick read.