Fee Fi Fo Fum, I'll Kill You If You Wake Me Up

A running joke between my husband and I, but not when it's happening, is that I don't "wake up" well and it can be comical listening to me demand executions (so he says). Sometimes, things happen while we're sleeping that keep me awake, or the day starts at 2am instead of 7:30am like it's supposed to. When this happens, I just can't keep it together. Rocky, this 11 year old fat beast that lives with us, is usually at fault:

Sometimes he spends his whole night screeching. What does he want? A spoonful of wet food or attention or the removal of another cat. Does he stop when he gets it? No. What do I want? To break every brittle bone in his fat body. Our 3 other animals sleep through the night, but not this chubby jerk. He knocks things over, screeches all night long, rips through the window blinds like he's about to play in the goddamned Rose Bowl and jumps on our heads. He then spends his day sleeping in my bed, getting up occasionally for a snack, and then sleeping more. It's nights like that when I fantasize about setting up a little cardboard box house for him with some gluten-free kibble and spoonfuls of wet food, right in the middle of the highway. I also spend the morning scowling at everyone. Lack of sleep makes me angry and yelly. I'd like to send Rocky on a missionary journey to Haiti where he could contract dysentery or AIDS, but be helpful in some way to the dear people of that battered island nation. The internet already told us he has cat dementia, so there isn't much we can do when he has nights like this, but I can't be rational when I'm sleep-deprived. As I'm putting together my 2014 death pool, I'm fantasizing about 2 fat annoying jerks I'd like to put in it. . .

For real, though, George H Bush is going back on my list. Everyone else I tried to put on my list is already dead, so I'm still working on it. I'm also going to make a resolution this year: I'm thinning the herd. Only boys, because they're the ones that suck, but some are moving out. Instead of making career resolutions, which don't inspire me, in 2014 I'm going to wear my failure like it's fucking Chanel so cheers to getting back on the horse no matter who says no.