Inside jokes become more or less interesting depending upon how many people are in on them. I am unsure which way is which. Most of my jokes exist between me, myself, and Tony. And the few others I have with real people I’ve already told to everyone else I know so really they are no longer “inside” at all.
But that’s how it goes. And this brings us to Mommy.
Mommy owns many kitties. If I had to guess I would say somewhere around 8 or 9, but if you were to guess 200 that would probably be right also. Mommy is a crazy cat lady if ever there was a lady who went (or was) crazy and lived with a hell of a lot of cats.
Mommy has named her feline friends completely random things like “The Pickle.” And, as you would expect, because she also talks to herself and about herself, she can now be found saying things like “Mommy has to pet the pickle!” I swear, I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried…
She explained all of this on the phone to me the other night. Mommy and I are good friends and talk as much as we can. Most of the time our conversations have to do with our own neoroses and disorders, depressions and desires. And other times it is simply to laugh (with love) at the funny things we find ourselves doing. Laughing at myself accounts for the bulk of my entertainment outside of drinking.
And I’ve been drinking a lot. Not by some people’s standards, but probably by most other people’s. The only thing I find concerning about this is the fact that it was one of my New Year’s resolutions that I thought I had a good chance of keeping. And from that statement alone (you “close readers” you) you can probably tell that I am not currently keeping any of my resolutions.
Like an inside joke among friends, I tell you now so that you may share in my small victories. Or maybe judge me in my failures. The box is still filled, the bottles still emptied, and my indulgences are still being satisfied.
So Tony has agreed to tie me up and tie me down until I am able to meet some of these goals. Keep you posted.