January 24, 2003
Evil Kitty strikes again
I got bitten by a twenty-five pound cat yesterday. He sunk his teeth in deep and refused to let go for quite a while. And the worst part it, it�s my cat. Not some stray, not someone else�s little monster, but mine. And really, I should have know better than to grab him while he was trying to attack another cat. While he was mad and crazy and full or indignant kitty rage. But I always pick him up when he�s pissed off. And although he bites/scratches me a lot, it�s never been like this before.
He left my arm throbbing and bleeding and now, more than twenty-four hours later it�s still red and swollen and full of pain. Even typing hurts like hell. It�s really rather pathetic.
And since I don�t have health insurance, I�m going to have to spend my tattoo money on a doctor�s visit and antibiotics, because according to the pharmacist I saw this morning, popping pain-killers like there�s no tomorrow and hoping it will go away isn�t the best thing in the world to do (but the look on his face when I told him I took six Tylenol PM capsules last night was oh so priceless).
So I�m missing work again today. In order to sit and wait for hours just so some guy can touch my sore arm, pat me on the shoulder and sign a piece of paper granting me the right to buy some drugs. Drugs that will no doubt come with instructions that prohibit the intake of alcohol.
And I�m supposed to go out dancing tonight. With Betty, Card, and a cute boy I met at Davis Monthan (Air Force Base) the other day. Although, without alcohol to numb the pain in my arm, I don�t know how I�ll be able pull it off..
Because whether it�s stompy and industrial, cutesy and synth-pop, or slow and gothy, it�s bound to look stupid if one of your arms is immobile.. or if you keep trying to move it and as a result end up mumbling, �oww, fuck. oww, fuck. oww, fuck� over and over again.
Anyone want to come and take pictures? I�m sure it will be quite an amusing sight..
10:17 a.m.