“Orange kitty is using biological warfare against me!” This is the sentence that comes out of the manfriend’s mouth as we are lying in bed being stalked by Jack, who is pacing warily around the bedroom, stopping occasionally to peer at us from the floor and then perch on the nightstand to watch us from above. Biological weaponry, in the manfriend’s estimation, is the dander floating like fallout everywhere in my house — dander that…
Take it from me. Never underestimate the foontz.
For once I actually had July 4 off work. That only happens every few years, so I decided to make the most of it and head to Saltillo to take part in the annual grilled-meat-and-pyrotechnics-a-thon. A fun twist this year is that I somehow convinced the manfriend that he should get in on that shit and come with me. So we took off as early as we could coax ourselves to Sunday (think…
I watched as the manfriend poured ranch dressing on his slice of garlic chicken pizza at the Pizza Cafe. I said, “You are going to be able to taste nothing but ranch!” Incredulous, he said, “Why would you want to taste anything else?”
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