David Bowie Passed Out in the Bathroom Sink
And people wonder why I always brush my teeth in the kitchen [where we have a double sink, and don't take reservations].
Can you believe David Bowie once broke my arm in a single [though seemingly endless] bite? That was the last time we tried to clean his ears.
Bowie is the only cat who scares me, though I adore him and the feeling seems to be mutual. He’s always jumping into my lap or rubbing against my legs or curling up on my chest when I go to bed. I love to “cuddle” him, but doing so requires complete concentration. He bites me if he gets too excited [and he's an excitable boy] and he bites me if I try to remove him. It’s a lose-lose situation. I just try to keep bones and major arteries [and my face] well out of his reach.
A favorite form of entertainment is Bro’s impersonations of people who’ve adopted our kids. Those who’ve [imaginarily] adopted Bowie are always speaking to emergency-room personnel. We don’t know what we’ll do if we can’t keep this place going. Those who were “adoption material” left us, long ago. Bread4Bread, anyone? Buy a trikke?
