Do you see this? It's my butter dish.
Our mother *#$^&ing mangy, fat cats have taken midnight kitchen thievery to a new level. No longer content to just snack on forgotten pasta or loaves of bread they drag down from the kitchen table in the middle of the night, the filthy bastards actually climbed the dishtowel
knocked the lid off the butter dish and ate almost an entire stick of butter.
I'm taking suggestions on what to do next. Things I'm willing to entertain include:
2. opening the front door and pushing them out into the street
3. slathering them in bacon grease and inviting a Pit Bull over
I'm also willing to ship them to anyone who wants them. And I mean anyone. I'm thinking a 50-pound postal carrier should do it. Added bonus: The puffy one picks up all kinds of dust and lint as he walks. Cuts vacuuming time in half.
He even does tricks
Just shoot me an email. You've got until midnight tonight. Then the fluff ball gets it.
About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.