I have a son now. Little Half Squat. Part uno

I’ve had a new pet for about a month now, and because I know stoopit clock kicks in once in awhile, and a notice that my “old” eggs became ineligible for donations, I think I maybe over-anthroplomorphisizing (zing big word!) the latest critter, just a lil bit.

So I’ve done some research (actually a lot, I tend to research the crap out of everything, thanks google and natural stalking abilities) and found a lady on craiglist parting ways with two of her pets. Because of the hippyness, I asked if I could come visit the critters before finalizing whether I like the breed, and/or which one should I get. You know, personality test, to see if my personality/smell/aura/color/chakra jives with the animals. She was totally cool and I planned on going by after work one day to meet them.

I had nightmares. Nightmares all revolving around one theme, these babies were already picked up by someone else by the time I can get to them. Yeah this totally happened to an aunt adopting human babies and that.broke.my.heart.

I still had life to get on, every day I put these fears aside and threw myself at work, especially meeting the deadline so I can leave work, worry free, to go meet the animals after work. The day of deadline/critter interview, I finished everything by 11, and by noon boss told me to go home and sleep. Jawesome, good sign, breathe, don’t want the critters to smell the nerves right? I went home, took a nap, and headed out to the “other” state to kill a couple birds with one stone (my poltergeist jetta).

First I had an important stop to make at a local radio station. I had won a prize that I was too lazy to get for about 3 weeks (because it was THAT insignificant, I will probably post a summary about the weird luck I have of winning weird little non monetary stuff). So thinking that I’m only like 15 miles from the critters I should be able to zip from radio station to critters in no time right? Not if you live in this town apparently. 15 mile = 2 hours on the highway, then dead end roads in a field of cows/corn/grass. By the time I found the place, I was hungry/irritated at traffic/low on gas, thinking “I’m so worn out, would I even tear up if the critters are gone?”

But the lady was awesome. I was greeted by 2 happy/sleepy butts. One of the butts looked like a hostess snowball, because he’s slightly overweight.


His name was Chug, and because we are recently on a roll of watching Jason Statham films and winning Transporter 3 on DVD, Chug became Chev, from Crank. Luckily, this fat bottomed kid is no where as insane as the character he was named after.

to be continued...

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