Opposites Attract

On my hetero-date with Devon last night, she convinced me that this little piece of brilliance on my part was utterly blog-worthy. I absolutely agreed.

So, many of you dear readers are familiar with my cats, for they disturbingly seem to come up in my posts often. It’s freakishly bestiality-curious, no doubt. You can read about my really funny but really creepy catophilia issues here, it’s always good for a laugh.

Anyway, to proceed with my story, you need to once again meet my cats:

Meet Bobbi, my twenty-six pound bear cub who has love affairs with scotch tape, sandals, and string cheese. She’s not very cute. It’s okay. You don’t have to say otherwise.

And Meet Hairy. We used to think she was a boy, (hence the name, which used to be spelled Harry) until one day, voila! She went into heat and started humping everything in sight that was small enough for her to mount. And she is very pretty. And you do have to say it.

So, last night, Dev and I were relaxing by the fire, chatting it up, and I was looking at the enormity that is Bobbi, and the haughty, but totally hot Hairy, and I thoughtfully said to Dev, “You know, in Cat World, Hairy would be the hot cheerleader that all the jocks want to de-virgnize, and Bobbi would be the fat nerd that eats lunch in the library where she bites, collects, and eats her fingernails."

But somehow, these two strangers found love. Beyond all of the doubters who said that a hot cheerleader wouldn’t look twice at the loser, these two found camraderie, companionship. Even love. And it is deeper than the cliques and established norms in this world of what is acceptable and what is not. They are somehow sexually attracted to each other, and I’m totally cool with that. The world may not be, but I absolutely am. They are living proof that opposites, do, in fact, attract.

Good for Bobbi, and I'm thinkin' not so good for Hairy.