Just Shoot Me!

    Oh my freaking goodness!  My paws are in utter, screaming, brain-shredding pain right now.  It's like a little, fat bastard in tap shoes decided to dance upon my knuckles. 

    The thing is, it was an absolutely gorgeous day here today.  The temperature jumped up to fifty-ish degrees, the sun was shining, and the wind was calm.  For all intents and purposes, it was a perfect reminder that spring was not only in the air, but it's definitely something worth hanging around waiting for. 

    Spring in Wisconsin is unlike any place I've ever been.  It's fun.  Taverns open their doors, people crawl out of their dank houses to taste the air, and I laugh at the melting snow (sometimes I even unzip the trousers and help it along a little).

    Unfortunately, during the day, all that snow melts to my delight.  Then, as the sun starts to descend into the West, that melted snow turns into a very chilly dampness that settles into my bones and makes me think that if I had an axe, a hell of a lot of band-aids, and the weird ability to type 80-90 words per minute with my nose, I'd bid farewell to these painful little digits.  But, I'm afraid I'm stuck with the squawking things.  Arrrgh!
   
    Anyway, right now I am debating whether or not to slam down a pain killer or a big, happy glass of whiskey.  The pain killer works wonders, but considering I have to be somewhere tonight where I will most likely be having bunches of wine, if I am to make it home in one reasonable piece, it's probably best not to mix alcohol and opiates. 

    As for the whiskey, well, considering the only thing I've eaten today is almost half a dozen jelly-donuts and a handful of bacon, I think the whiskey would just tear through that and send me into some sort of odd, drunken, twitchy sugar rush.  By the way, you'd think it would be bad, but my god!  If you're riding the big, shiny bus into glutton town, I strongly suggest you mix your pastry and bacon.  Outstanding! 

    Oh well.  I do have my hot-wax thing.  But, unfortunately, I turned it off, and it has since seized into a rock-solid glacier of chilled paraffin, and if I turned it on now, I'll probably be home and in bed by the time it's melted enough to use.  So, yes.  I am dumb.  I should really plan ahead.

    Okay...  I figure I've whined enough, huh? 

    Personally, as nice as my plans are for tonight, there is still a big part of me that would just like to curl up and gawk at the TV (speaking of which, did anyone catch Stan Lee on Heroes last night?  That was teh awesomez!!!1!).  Is there anything good on tonight?  And, am I the only one who's just a little geeked out about the fact that my favorite nouveau-hippie Dave Matthews is going to be on an episode of House? 

    Well, I'm off to grumble and complain to DogCat who's grumbling and complaining to me about the distinct lack of variety in his cat food buffet.