I gross my doctor out

Cold as balls here this morning, very very suddenly, as tends to happen inTexas. I am covered in itch, partly from a new sweater and partly from my catten (half kitten, half cat, all asshole), who insists on waking me up every morning an hour before the alarm to head-butt his way underneath my neck and then lick my skin raw with his wire-cutting tongue and knead my throat with his clawless paws. What. the. fuck. Do all cats do this? And would it be inhumane for me to have his tongue surgically removed just like I did with his balls and his claws?

He also ate the power cable to the modem this weekend and we were without internet for THREE WHOLE DAYS. That's 72 hours of no porn, no wish-shopping, no blogging, no reading of blogs, and no update on the spawn of Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise, which should just now be developing tiny translucent horns.

I have been cordially invited to a "dressy casual" coffee hosted by all of the Spouses' Clubs at the base, but instead I plan to go to the base hospital and have a toenail removed. Though violently disgusting, I expect it to be more fun than the coffee. About the toenail-- I'll avoid too much detail, but let's just say that I injured it a while back and someting has gone Wrong in the time since. I'm using my pending disfigurement (which is SUPPOSED to be chemically rendered and therefore painless-- only reason I'm going through with it) to justify buying some new kicks. My first functionless part of athletic-ish shoes since grade school. I've got my eye on some Pumas, though Run DMC almost sold me on the Adidas.

**Update: two hours well spent at the hospital-- my doctor claims there is no painless way to remove a toenail, and that another doctor will have to be summoned to numb and then partially dissect my toe because the procedure "grosses [her] out." So... you dissected dead people in medical school and MY TOE grosses you out? Me right now: this big.