Tags
asshole-itis, cats, feline leukemia, med school, med school for cats, Satchmo, stupid autocorrect
S and I just had this exchange via text:
Me: Am I paying for Satch’s med school out of the regular account?
Me (again): Meds. Not med school. Thank you autocorrect.
S: Yes. Checkbook is there.
Me: What if Satch decides he wants to do med school? How will he get student loans, seeing as how he’s a cat and all? We certainly can’t afford to pay his way through med school. That shit is expensive! I feel like we’re failing him.
S: Forget it.
Me: Are you really so ready to cast aside his hopes and dreams? He might discover the cure for feline leukemia! Or pimples! Or asshole-itis! Or he could figure out why Dizzy is such a degenerate! Don’t you want answers to these pressing issues?!
Me (again): Hello? If you think I’m going to be the one to break the news to him that med school is not an option, you’re sorely mistaken. I don’t know how you can sleep at night.
Ha!
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