My friend Ben, a self proclaimed "cat man", chillaxing with his feline friend.
When we were 16 and sophomores in high school, my friend M. and I used to say that if we weren't married by the ancient age of 30, we would move to a big house in the country, with thirty cats and a wrap around porch. We vowed to sit on the porch all day drinking gin and tonics, and harassing the neighbors in our nightgowns. And at Halloween time, the mothers of trick or treaters would refuse to allow their children to come to our door because we were "the drunk lesbian cat ladies" (which they would say to one another in a whisper as they pointed towards the house).
30 seemed so far away then....
Ahahah...Love the Pic of Ben and his #1 Pussy and love the description of that dear, dear memory/vow. My God, we are 30! And yet, its really not much different than 20's except we're not raving crackhead sluts who think they know it all. We're just sluts who do yoga and don't smoke crack. We still know it all! Shoo... And those Stepford wives with their snot piss-head little kids are all just jealous that we Can drink Gin and Tonics on our porch in our nightgowns at noon while giving everyone the side-eye and saying "I wish they would!" every ten minutes... Ahh, retirement...
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